Carol's Sermon The patients sat like park-pigeons, slumped and rubbing the nighttime meds from their eyes in a room-wide twisting of fingers. The zombies were still too tired for pacing.

Nurse Bigfoot stood from the chair she had placed in front of the television. “Before morning meeting is adjourned, does anyone have a community issue they’d like to bring up?”

Fergus raised one finger. “When’s the doctor coming in? I need to talk to him about my meds.”

“That is a personal issue. Does anyone have a community issue?” Bigfoot interrupted. “Something concerning everyone on the unit.” A twitch waved through the patients beneath the cold of her pinched, blue eyes.

“I…” Carol paused and rose her old frame to the stance of a prehistoric bird, “would like to say a prayer.”

“Oh no!” Elena poked Mona’s arm and grinned.

“God. Wonder what she’s come up with today.” Mona said.

Bigfoot sighed and with a sweep of her palm, cleared the floor. Carol limped to the front and center of the dayroom, morphing it to an altar. Gowns flapping like Biblical robes. Her white fuzz hair glowing gold in fluorescent light. The patients’ eyes were glossy and expecting. Teeth over inner lips to bite down any gathering laughter.

“And now…this morning’s prayer. The human body!” Carol began with a preacher’s breathy forte. She raised her arms. Her gown rolled up her legs like a morning curtain. The patients’ eyes all darted to her thighs, now exposed, ashy brown and bulging with horse-like muscles.

“As I walk along the shores of Galilee…” Carol marched in place and pumped her arms at her sides.

“Good Lord…” Jeffry said.

“I see a body. A human body.” Carol traced two fingers down her temples, down her cheeks, to her neck. “Blood!”

Alicia cackled. Fergus, beside her whispered coarsely, “Don’t laugh!” The patients’ chests all quivered with stifled giggles, as if stuffed with bees. The lights above them flickered.

“Blood! Runs down my face from the crown of thorns on my head.” Carol’s gaze froze, Christ-like and contemplating something far beyond the dayroom, beyond the nurses’ counter. “Blood! Runs from my sides that have been cut open.” Carol clutched her hips.

“Praise the Lord!” called Fergus. Jeffry shook his head.

“My toenails…” Carol threw her palms up again, “are this long!” She bent and ripped the hospital slippers from her feet, unsheathing her two-inch, yellow claws, shining like topaz stones.
The vinyl seats erupted in creaks as the patients’ bodies bounced in shock. Alicia and Hela howled. Elena screamed. Mona’s jaw fell.

“Carol!” Bigfoot pursed her lips not to laugh. “That is a personal issue. We’ll cut your toenails later today.” The overhead lighting flickered again.

Jeffry pointed to Carol’s feet. “No way. That’s a community issue!”

“And that.” Carol folded her hands at her chest and said gently, “is the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. Amen.”

“Amen!” Fergus said. The patients clapped.
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