She stopped at Papandapoulas' New York Style Deli and bought five chicken pot pies for dinner, one for each with an extra for whoever needed it which, even though there was no way he would actually need it, would inevitably be Job. As she sat in the car at the exit of the parking lot behind the deli waiting for a hole to appear in traffic, Erta glanced across the street at what had been the vacant building left by the recently closed Suds 'N Studs, a combination Laundromat and tuxedo rental store that never outgrew its conceptual identity crisis. A brand-new sign had been crudely painted across the front window by a neophyte sign painter who had better intentions than technique. The attracting force wouldn't have been any stronger had the building been the world's largest and strongest electromagnet. Erta opened the car door and walked across the street, leaving the car in the exit lane with the engine running.
Gasoline has no meaning in the religious scheme of life.
Philly whose real name was Guido Carmine Vito Antonio D'Allesandro and who claimed to have a Ph.D. from the Stockholm College of Divinity, a school which it turns out actually existed, though its only curriculum was in the art of candy making. Dr. Hans, as he referred to himself, preached that since the body is the Lord's temple it's only fitting that we pay tribute to Him by making the structure as beautiful as possible. Hence, each member of this church was required to join the Dr. Hans-owned David and Goliath Exercise Club next door and have their hair cut at least weekly in Delilah's Beauty Salon, which was conveniently located in the rear of the building. During the seven months she would spend with this religion, Erta might not have moved any closer to salvation, but she would most certainly look better than she had during her tenure with any of the sixteen other religions. No sooner had the first person stood up to leave the tent than Job bolted out of his seat and made a beeline for daylight.