Harold’s fury at mask maker becoming richest on earth

You should have seen Uncle Harold this past Sunday, a hefty mass draped in a flowing red cassock, fuming at a pensive congregation that stared back absentminded; several members somewhere between their third and fourth dreams of the afternoon.

“You abandoned an anointed man! 2020 was the year I should have started driving again!” he shouted at the faithful, most of who had carried nothing to throw into his bottomless offertory kiondo.