Dear Benny Hinn,
Good day to you, sir. My name is Alibaster Abthernabther. I am a best selling author, yacht racer, hot air balloon enthusiast, and true believer in the healing power of Christ.
Let me say firstly and foremostly that I am a longtime fan of your work. From your salad days as a sex obsessed, marshmallow-shaped English comedian to your more recent enterprise as a babbling televangelist healer of indeterminate ethnic origin who wears brassy discards from the Steve Harvey Collection, I have charted your illustrious career with great interest.
I have a request to be cured by your healing hand. What with the
U.S. Senate’s request that you turn over evidence of your ministry’s financial standing this week, I assume that time is of the essence. Before you are sent to a federal prison for tax evasion and fraud for many, many years, please consider laying hands one last time. More specifically, please consider laying hands on me. Even more specifically, please consider laying hands on my rump cheeks, as they have been possessed by Satan’s will.
Fissures, hemorrhoids, unstoppable gastric discharge; you name it and my anus is afflicted with it. Every other inch of my body is pristine, healthy, and fully functional; alas my hind quarter has a diseased mind of its own. If we could meet for a mere moment so you could lay your warm, wonderful palms on my quivering, pockmarked ass, I know in my heart of hearts that all its painful suffering would be undone by the Lord’s transcendent mending power.
Also, this premise is nothing like that one scene in Fletch Lives.