A Homeless Brothel For Jesus

Okay, so this satire. But please tell me I’m not the crazy one.

Two years ago, my aunt passed away suddenly. A fall led to scans, which led the discovery of stage 4 brain cancer. And she was gone within a month.

She had been married to her husband for fifty years. When she passed, he felt lost and alone. He had never cooked a meal, run a load of laundry, or made a bed. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

So, after a few months of inviting himself to weekly dinner with all of his family and friends, he did what any mourning husband would do. He decided it was time to find himself a new housewife.

He signed up with online dating. Too old. Too fat. Too pretentious. Not religious enough. None of the women would ever stack up to his late wife.

He showed up to a second date with flower, chocolates, a cashmere sweater, diamond earrings, and a bit too much eagerness. I doubt there was a third.

One woman shocked him with inappropriate pictures.

Another asked the devout Catholic on their first date when they would have sex.

Overwhelmed, he put the online dating aside for the time being and taken a new approach.

He has a large home and is still paying off the mortgage, so he’s invited in numerous roommates.

First, there’s the church deacon from church, whom my uncle is convinced is jealous of his dating.

Oh, but next, the women…

My uncle somehow met a middle-age women who was living out of her car and invited her to rent a room in his house. He tapped everyone in his network to raise money for her car repairs and help her find a job. She doesn’t pay rent and still lives out of her car in his driveway.

Next, the disabled woman from Philly with the Jersey accent and bossy attitude. She bring in less than $1,000 per month from disability, and my uncle is planning to help her get a car and rent her a room for $800 per months. Oh, and then offer her a six-figure job within his real estate business, where he hasn’t made a sale in months.

My uncle currently have five roommate, including a man of the church and four destitute women, whom he’s desperately trying to covert to Catholicism. I suspect he hopes that they’ve view him as some kind of savior so they’ll help with the laundry and make him a sandwich.

After a recent conversation trying to convince her brother this was all a bad idea, my mom walked away exasperated and then called me. “To the unknowing, it probably looks like he’s running a brothel,” she sighed.

And, right on cue, my boyfriend responded: “A homeless brothel for Jesus!”

Sometimes, when there’s no more use trying, you’ve just got to step back and laugh.