"Alas, the good priest met his doom, takin' a cannonball to the chest 'fore sayin' his evening prayers!"
2025-04-05
Arrr, matey! The good Rev. Arul Carasala be spied outside his sacred ship, the parish rectory, in Kansas on Thursday. An Oklahoma scallywag be caught for the mischief, but why he be doin' it, the seas be mum! Har har!
Ahoy, me hearties! Gather 'round and lend yer ears to a tale most peculiar that washed ashore from the land of Kansas! On a fine Thursday morn, the good Rev. Arul Carasala, a man o' the cloth, found himself in a right pickle outside his parish rectory, lookin' like a shipwrecked sailor after a rough night on the rum. What foul winds blew him there, ye ask? Well, that be a mystery as deep as Davy Jones’ locker!Lo and behold! An Oklahoma scallywag found his way to the scene and was promptly nabbed by the landlubber constabulary. Aye, they’ve got the rascal in handcuffs tighter than a ship's riggin', yet the reason fer this kerfuffle remains as elusive as a hidden treasure! Did the good Rev. cross paths with a cursed doubloon? Or was it a simple case of mistaken identity—mistaking the good minister for a rival captain, perhaps?
So there ye have it, lads and lasses! A tale of intrigue and bewilderment, worthy of a shanty or two! Let us raise a tankard to the good Rev. Carasala and hope he finds calm seas ahead, lest he end up in a land of sea serpents and squawkin’ parrots! Arrr!