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Fiction Foundry 5

"Oh yeah?" he replied. "We'll see." With a yank of the PRNDL and a floored accelerator the neighborhood became a blur of color.  "This is what it would look like if Captain Kirk drove a station wagon."  Mike Jr. mused.

Three minutes and forty-eight second later, the car halted in a hail of dust and pebbles on the outer edge of the Trinity Fellowship parking lot.  Considering the number of times Jeanine made the sign of the cross and muttered something about "merciful Jesus," Mike figured the ride itself should count at church service.

The family scrambled to the front door, pausing only a moment so that Jeanine could make sure her dress was smoothed and no strands of hair were terribly out of place.  Big Mike heaved open the large wooden door and the Carsons made their entrance.

Standing on the dais facing the congregation, Mr. Marcusey glared daggers of disapproval at the family.  Mike had heard missionaries talk about how Africans would wait until all the members arrived (no matter how long it took) before beginning service.

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