Letters From the War on Christmas, Con’t

By the hand of William Halterman

10th of November in the 2017th Year of Our Lord

Dear Petro,

When will the madness end? The atheists are outside our walls, chanting “Love trumps hate!”…How dare they? What kind of sick individuals think such a thing?

I try not to let it get to me, but without you by my side it is difficult. The way you lift me up…spiritually and physically. There are stairs to get to the restrooms, I haven’t seen the inside of them for weeks.

Our first mission was to find and recover a coach from a high school in Georgia. He was being held hostage by the liberal administration, forcing him to pray to the atheist God, Allah. When we arrived at the football field, it was worse than we feared. Prayer blankets had been distributed to the teams and fans. We began our assault at dawn, but no matter what we threw at them, nothing held. We held prayer circles and baptisms. Eventually just resorting to constantly regurgitating the same Biblical passages, over and over again, robotically screaming at them, but to no avail. Why didn’t it work? There was no amount of shame that could have helped.

We retreated once the school’s lawyers flanked us with a memo instructing the staff to abide by the law, barely escaping with our lives.

Despite our loss, we relentlessly continue. Word is, the rations have been going missing and I have been assigned to investigate the cause. We should be alright, so long as our supply line remains intact, and should have enough to last till Christmas, without any new shipments.

I yearn for the day I see your face again. I keep your picture in a frame I made out of nugget boxes and lay it on the pillow next to me at night.

Until the day we will finally be together again.

Yours, forever and truly,

Todd Starnes

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