I'm attending afternoon services at a crowded church, trying to find a good vantage point toward the back. Testimony is being presented up front, by way of video. I catch sight of a sign out the window and realize it is a Seventh Day Adventist church. I'm considering how like any other Protestant church service I've attended this one seems when I realize I'm wearing my pajama bottoms with pick-up trucks all over them and they need washing to boot. I'm more curious about this than embarrassed.
Afterwards, I'm sitting in the passenger seat of the pastor's vehicle and we're heading toward his home. He's explaining how tolerant his congregation is by using my attire and their lack of concern as an example. We arrive at his home, where he excuses himself to go inside for a few moments. I wait and plan a follow-up question about what it is he feels sets his church apart from all the others.
My eyes are suddenly drawn to movement in a tree off to my right. A buzzard reveals itself there, staring groundward, menacingly. I see a dog in the bushes, trying not to be seen. It's a large dog, but mangy and obviously not in good health. It scurries out from under the bush. The vulture pursues it, pecking at the dog's back. This is repeated several times, from bush to bush. The dog is getting tired. The bird swoops one last time, but this time the dog spins and leaps up, catching the buzzard's scrawny neck in his jaws and tearing off its head. The bird lands on its feet. It walks around a bit, aimlessly; I assume it's wondering what happened to its head. Then it dies.
Yes, but what does it mean?
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