Who is Brother Jeroboam?
The Cathedral doors clanged shut, the great assembly fell silent, and the lantern light above dimmed to an expectant shimmer. Only the hidden spotlight remained, full and white on Brother Jeroboam.
“Brother and Sister Jukes!” He thundered in a voice that would raise the dead and make them dance. “Have you toiled by the sweat of your brow this day?”
“We have so toiled!” came the deafening reply.
“And have you, by this hard toil, purged yourselves of wanton idleness?” the preacher boomed.
“We have purged our very souls!”
“And therefore, by the sweat of your brow that cleanses your soul, and by the renunciation of all that is Feline and fornicated, are yoiu ready to receive the Sacred Benediction?”
“We are ready indeed!”
There came the thunderous thump of a thousand hounds dropping to one knee. Lonely Quickly followed suit.
Meet Brother Jeroboam
At over six feet tall, dressed in coal-black, Brother Jeroboam strikes an imposing figure seated in the saddle of his horse, Righteous, or preaching fire and brimstone from the pulpit of his hounds-only Cathedral in Molars Post.
Some folk say he’s the Devil, some folk claim he’s Divine. The tales and myths about him are as tangled as an old Tumblewood Tree.
One thing’s for sure; this mustachioed preacher has spent his grizzled life travelling the highways and by-ways, with saddlebags stuffed with hard tracts and hard liquor, rousing backsliders in far flung hamlets against the abomination of cats! “Vermin-puss!” as he states it.
He keeps coming back, year after year, like the very resurrection itself, preaching Hound freedom and staying true to your hound roots. He clearly sees through the greed, power and control that has been forced upon them by the cats.
He’s a true defender of the faith. Hound Faith.
With a voice as deep as riverbed gravel you’ll hear him growl,
“Now pass the moonshine and let’s sing a hymn or two!”