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"Why am I here I again?" I said very curtly to the stout man in a polo in front of me.

"I already told you," he replied, "I have to spread the word of the lord!"

"But, why do we have to do it in a field?" I retorted as I examined the seemingly endless field of short grass I suddenly found my self in.

"That's not important right now," he responded in a slightly irritated tone, "just hit the play button and throw those bibles up in the air when I signal," he said pointing to the camera that had suddenly materialized in front of me without my notice and the box of pre-broken wooden boards that had "holly bibl" carelessly scrawled on them with a purple marker.

I rested my elbow on the endless wooden fence that sprang into being with a "sproink" at that moment and massaged my temples. I glanced out of the corner of my eye and saw the stout man doing stretches like he was preparing for a marathon or some strenuous exercise.

A sigh escaped my lips as I wondered how I found myself in a situation like this: trapped in an endless field with Bill Purvis filming some sermon that someone would watch while wondering exactly how long it was until Saturday Night Live came on.

I turned my attention to the equally endless tract of land on the other side of the fence and wondered when I would wake up when I was interrupted by a tap on my shoulder. I turned to the see the televangelist wearing face paint that seemed to be taken straight from Metal Gear Solid and a bandana tied around his head. I was about to question where he got these things when he pressed his finger to my lips and made a shushing sound.

"It's time he said," in a voice that was entirely too serious for what would actually take place-not that I noticed, I was busy searching for a way to get out of this situation unmolested.

He pulled back, forced the camera into my hands, and instructed me to hit record. I fumbled with the device for a few seconds, trying to get the view finder open, but eventually got the camera primed and hit record.

That was my first mistake.

As soon as the little red light came on, the man began to speak,

"Hello, I'm Bill Purvis and I'm here to tell you why you shouldn't trust the government," wait, what? this is a very unconventional word of the lord. "You see, I know, I was created by the government to do unspeakable things," he said very menacingly as he trudged over to the camera, totally filling the view finder with his paint covered face.

He suddenly began backing away from the camera while saying, "let me demonstrate." He then motioned to the box of split wooden blocks by my side.

Realizing that this was my cue, I grabbed three of the blocks with my free hand; curiously the broken halves held together as I threw them. While that was interesting to see, I really wish I had not thrown them; Bill suddenly began screeching like an injured animal as he flailed about trying to karate chop the blocks out of the air. All the blocks avoided him broke apart upon hitting the ground, untouched by the man who was still screeching-except now he was rolling around on the ground, flailing at blocks that were no longer coming at him.

I stood their perfectly still in a mix of horror and absolute confusion until Bill suddenly stopped screeching, and in fact, moving all togather; that is when i dropped the camera and ran off into the endless field.