Throe of the Bishop

"Young people of today," Bishop Duncan intoned from the pulpit, "are so voluntarily boxed in the time warp of today's world. So much so that they have lost sight of their true purpose on earth. Nowadays, what God wants doesn't matter anymore!" he paused, expecting shouts of ohs to erupt and drown the thick fog of silence which had swallowed up the room. But none came.
He lifted his head and scoured the room: the pews were filled to the rafters but somehow everybody seemed to be otherwordly occupied, staring intently into their bibles which laid on their laps, open.
He wanted to think the parisionhers were utterly immersed in the good news but the octogenarian preacher knew too much to entertain such a fallacy.
He heaved a faint sigh carefull not to draw questioning looks from his church members. If they thought for a second that he was tired of preaching everyday to a bunch of vibrant young men and women, it would stain, if not jeopardize, what he was trying to achieve in today's session.
He continued, in the same ardurous tone that he started with, "I say unto you, those people have had their judgement! The Lord will not let such people go unpunished. If you do not turn away from the evils of today's world, you will rot in the immeasurable abyss of hell!"
A snort emerged from the back, succeeded by a hodgepodge of rants, which the inflating Bishop could not decipher. He paused again and scanned the back in a bid to identify where the snort had emerged--an act which yielded nought result.

"The bible tells us at Mathew 6:33," he continued sounding cautious, "keep on, then, seeking first the Kingdom and his righteousness, and all these other things shall be added to----"

Another snort emerged, this time it thundered through the pews of the church causing every member to bolt up in shock.
The Bishop paused again, his eyes pleading yet bearing a look of contempt which he'd done his best to stash away in the inconceivable depths of his eyes. He sauntered down the podium to where he thought the snort had emerged. As he started through the pews, the entire building was reduced into a cacophony of noises as the church members shifted uncomfortably tucking away their phones before the Bishop's glare could grace them with its coldness.
'At least they have the fear of a man of God in them,' he mused.

When he got to the last seat at the back, a young man, probably in his twenties, was blowing what looked like the leftover of an all-night booze, off his nose. The Bishop stood there, awestruck by the young man's impudence; the mere fact that he'd graced the church with his barrage of sin was a signal of how far today's world had fallen from the straight and narrow.
The Bishop sat next to him hoping his presence alone would deter the young man from interrupting his session but the latter kept blowing his pin-size nose as if to expand the pores. He took the young man by the hand and whispered something into his ear, the aftermath of which saw the young man leave the building with the Bishop amidst stares.

When they exited the building, the Bishop scoured the place to make sure no one was there and then, in a flash, landed a slap across the young man's face; the momentum it carried could only be likened to a supernatural slap.
The young man's eyes bolted up in surprise but he appeared too shocked to utter a word. The Bishop then said to him, "go and return no more for you have received your judgement."

That said, the Bishop turned around and headed back into the building. A thought rattled through his mind: 'this is how dickweasels who seek to soil the good name of the Sovereign Lord will be treated.'

This is my attempt at humour while shedding more light on the need to stay the straignt and narrow. Whether or not you find it funny? Please let me know in the comment box. Thanks.

Photo taken from pixabay.