“An accountant walked his dog through the park one sunny afternoon,” says Pope Mohammed from his minpit*. Pope Mohammed was in pious mode. There were pastoral pauses used for effect in his delivery. There were nuances in his face. There were moments of bouncing on his toes.
Pope Mohammed continued his story, “The accountant’s dog was on a leash. When the accountant’s dog lowered its backside to relieve itself, the accountant looked off in the distance at a passing airplane.”
Pope Mohammed wore a robe embellished with what looked like Spanish tiles. It glistened in the spotlight directed onto Pope Mohammed’s face.
“The accountant-tah,” Pope Mohammed liked to add another syllable to words that ended in T and then repeat himself. “The accountant-tah walked on without picking up after his dog.”
Pope Mohammed reached for a glass of water. He picked it up. Sipped it. Placed the glass down again on the minpit.
He cleared his throat. “An artist came along a few minutes later, walking his dog. The artist’s dog lowered its backside to relieve itself while smelling the accountant dog’s pile. The artist waited for his dog to finish, removed a plastic bag from his pocket and picked up his dog’s pooh. The artist walked away.”
Pope Mohammed pushed the rim of his glasses back up on his nose. He scratched his arm and said, “A short-order cook walked along with his dog. When his dog lowered its backside near the accountant’s pooh, he pulled out a plastic bag, waited for his dog to complete its task, and he picked up both the accountant dog’s pooh and his dog’s pooh.”
Pope Mohammed looked out over the congregants sitting cross legged on rugs. He made a point to look out at each person. “It draws them into the message,” he told you once.
“Gollah smiles on he who picks up after those who carelessly leave their dog’s poop in the park.”
*”Minpit” is a combination of minbar and pulpit, to reinforce the combination word theme in the Pope Mohammed series.