Cold Open – radio static + bell ding] You call the numba… You get the clown. That’s already a miracle. ⸻ [Scene One – The Hotline Pitch] Sign taped crooked on a flickerin’ light, “Need a blessin’? Call me tonight” No church walls, just an alley stage, Pulpit made of milk crates, faith half paid I pick up the phone with a honk and a cough, Say “you need grace? I got it on soft” Voice too loud, mic too cheap, Every prayer echo three blocks deep I ain’t got robes, just paint and jokes, But miracles still work when the label broke I shake a bottle marked “HOLY WATTA,” Inside look like sink juice… still blessed though, sorta ⸻ [Scene Two – First Caller] Caller whisperin’, stress in they tone, Say “Preacher Clown, I’m losin’ hope” I flip through a book I never read, Quote a verse I just made up in my head I sprinkle drops on the phone receiver, Say “you healed now, trust the procedure” Phone spark once — that’s not normal, I say “see? Power already workin’, formal” Caller laugh, caller cry, Hard to tell through a busted line I hit ‘em with the deluxe package prayer, Two squirts extra — that’s premium care ⸻ [Break – Wackside Explains His Ministry] I ain’t no saint, I ain’t no guide, I’m just a clown with faith on wide I bless with rhythm, I preach with jokes, If heaven busy, I leave a note My holy watta don’t taste like wine, More like tap with ambition inside But miracles ain’t picky, they show up late, Sometimes they trip, sometimes they great ⸻ [Scene Three – The Blessing Gets Messy] Next call come in, dude real bold, Say “Preacher, bless my bad decisions, yo” I pause like “that’s above my pay,” Then spray the bottle anyway He say “I feel lighter,” I say “that’s growth,” Spirit whisper “nah, that’s just hope” Either way, faith in motion, I shake the bottle, start a commotion I preach loud with a crooked grin, “Confess your sins — I’ll forget ‘em again” Crowd imaginary shout AMEN, Rat in the alley say it too — amen ⸻ [Scene Four – Wackside Loses Control of the Service] Phone line jam, bells go off, Everybody want a bless, I’m runnin’ outta drops I refill from a leaky sink, Say “don’t question it — just believe” Candles flicker, beat drop slow, I dance mid-sermon, lose my flow Bible fall open to a blank page, I write my own verse — modern age I start rappin’ prayers with a clown cadence, Half confession, half entertainment If heaven watchin’, they laughin’ hard, Like “this ain’t protocol, but it’s heart” ⸻ [Final Scene – The Big Send-Off] I hold the bottle up to the moonlight glow, Say “everybody blessed — even those I don’t know” I flick the cap, mist in the air, People feel holy… or just feel better, fair I hang the phone, tape the sign, “Blessings available — results vary by design” Pack my pulpit, wipe my face, Still a clown, still full of grace ⸻ [Outro – soft laugh, bottle shake] Hotline closed… but the blessin’ stays weird.
