Matt Sadler, Detroit • Runner-up, Flash Fiction
Pastor Anthony is sleeping with Barbara down the street. We can tell by the choirs of angels singing music above her house. You have to admit, choirs of angels (even just one choir) hovering above a house, with their multitude and their plenty, is bound to attract some kind of attention, and eventually someone’s going to go peeking into the windows to see what’s really going on. We’d sent April to do that the fourth day in a row we saw those choirs up there. April came back with the news. Four days in a row they were there, and he’s a pastor! He must have been all constricted from waiting for so long, all balled up, all saved. On that fourth day, even the angels were starting to look tired.
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