Negative Externalities – Bauhausfrau

March 17, 2026

We’re all of one mind as Father flings his inherited vestments atop the hotdog fire. Bright tongues reflect a penitential purple.

Polyester.

He’s wearing college colors and he bought a dappled dog. Sticky children recede to the dark while his toxic pyre draws our host.

Old plastic bottles melt into their chrism films, more in spirit than the letter of his text. He had “extra oil to burn,” petroleum left unstated.

Someone’s dad calls more s’mores so marshmallows head to the blaze. Liturgical waste goos them just as good; God’s filtering out all the particles, moms.

I’ll bet the gilded chasubles burned them a sweeter smoke. Those assholes should tithe twenty.