I’ve been under the impression that they’re going to let me out soon, any day now, but each day that goes by I find that’s not the case. The administrators and supervisors who could or should know, avoid me when they see me in the hallways.
When they brought me
here, they lavished me with praise. I was the kind of young man they
wanted. My vocation was immediately apparent. It would be an insult
to God and a grave mistake for me to squander such an opportunity to
As time went on,
their enthusiasm waned. I was no longer the idea candidate. Other
boys came and went, but I remained, having been thoroughly charmed by
their appraisal of my gifts. Boys like me were the reason this place
existed. I was their walking mission statement.
My original mentor,
Father Pretorious, a kindly old man with rheumy eyes…
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Bozo the Geezer? Geezer the bozo