Raising himself as tall as possible over the Inkwood pulpit, the incorrigible preacher invoked his sermon to the congregation with his icily written offering. The interior of the church mostly comprised of iconic imagery, was inconsequential to most of the followers.
It was not their fault, having repeatedly heard the preacher’s threats, the words now inept and no longer impinged on their moral impurity. The drone of his speeches caused no injury to their conscience as they were now immune to his indicative advice.
He was no evangelist, causing an occasional ictus from a purloined parishioner, but speaking to a middle class muddled, and bored audience.