I was making a doll. During church I sat in the front row so that I could see the
minister’s face, my eyesight was so poor that I couldn't even recognize him from the third row. Why did I need to see his face? The doll wouldn't look like him if I couldn't see it.
The minister’s wretched name was Paul Phillips, my grandmother told me he was named after Saint Paul. Mr. Phillips was short, my height, and had a fairly plump belly. He would often leech food off of other people in the town by inviting himself to dinner, because he was the minister no one would say no, in fear that he would take the rejection up with God, so he ate quite well. People say his face is filled with wrinkles, but I can't determine the difference between smooth and wrinkly so that won't matter to me. He shaves his head clean because it isn't right to hide your head from the lord if you are a man. But that rule doesn't apply to me thankfully. Either way, his baldness only made making the doll