Cassock

I'm just looking at the Wikipedia and there's like a blue link to Banksy within the first four paragraphs.

Yeah, I mean, all their art pieces are called like Fuck for the Air, Puppy Bear, Humiliation of a Cop in His House, Cop in a Priest's Cassock, Memory of the Decembrists, The Storming of the White House, Banning of the Clubs, Dick in the Arse, Punk Concert in the Courtroom.

It's, like, and you know what? I bet you Satanic Feminist and Banksy are huge fans.

Yeah.

A screaming alerted the missionary, who ran over.

Huffing and puffing, Cossack waving in the wind.

He told us to step aside, and he said a prayer.

There was a lull, a brief moment dwelling between faith and doubt, wherein the children turned to look at the missionary with wide eyes and open mouths.

And I was probably about eight years old, and apparently they introduced this new bell ringing into the service.

So we get there, I get all dressed up in my gown and cassock or whatever, I don't even know what it's called, but-

Cassock and surplice

...

they send me out there and tell me, "You gotta ring these bells now," at this point in mass.

I wanna wear the silly outfit.

I wanna go up there and, like, hold the stuff-"

I remember going on those camps with the choir and how naive you were.

I mean, wherever we were in our Cossacks and our robes and all that type of thing, you know, it's mad when you think back to those times.

Well, you make me out as a singer.

I never was a singer.

Till after the first shock of quick surprise, the people circled round him, still in awe, and circling stared, and this is what they saw.

Cassock and hood and hose of plushy sheen, like close-cut grass upon a bowling green, covered his stature from his verdant toes to the green brows that topped his emerald nose.

His beard was glossy like unripened corn.

His eyes shot sparklets like the polar morn.