24

               Getting closer, Kevin noticed the same menacing wooden crucifix still hung on the front wall.

With the curtains covering the windows, it was nearly invisible. There was another symbol hanging

next to it. Above the new pagoda-like cubicle was a yellow crown-- a crown of thorns. Now Kevin

could also make out the broken neon sign beneath it. "Burger Messiah" the empty glass tubing read.

And there sat Father Feinstein slouched behind the counter, his fat head resting on his hand, and on his

head a cute little fold-up paper crown of thorns.

               "Oh, Christ," Father Feinstein groaned.

               "So, how's business?" Kevin asked, sitting down on a stool at the holy hamburger stand.

               "Just great," Father Feinstein answered, "if I was a collector of kangaroo meat."He nodded

back at the refrigerated tabernacle, which stood by the french fry machine. "The last devoted sons of

bitches that still worshipped here were the conservative ones. Well, this little second altar was the

final straw. Now I've got zip. The bishop wanted me to close up two weeks ago, but I told him things

were under control. What the hell have you been doing?"Father Feinstein was sincere. He wanted to

know what a washed up priest did with himselfbesides watch videotapes of old CYO championships

and get acquainted to life without the pretense of celibacy.

               "Oh, I gave up the priesthood for a more lucrative field. You didn't leave me a choice,

remember?" Kevin smiled, his cheeks finally receiving the signal they had been waiting for.

               Father Feinstein activated his automatic social/afraid-of-disapproval response mechanism, and

blurted out, "Oh, that? Look, Father--" his eyes settled upon a gold ring on Kevin's fourth finger,

"Look, Kevin, it was all a big misunderstanding. I got screwed for the same reason. See, in the long

run, a priest just can't compete with a guy who sells salvation in thisworld."Father Feinstein adjusted

his paper crown.

               Kevin nodded, and spun in quarter turns on the stool. "You should have followed my advice,

Father. I told you that in matters of the spirit, there can be no compromise."

               "Look who's talking," Father Feinstein reacted, then hiccuped a greasy reminder of the Kids'

Holy Meal he ate for breakfast.

               Kevin looked down at his hand. "Oh, this?" he asked, displaying his wedding ring.