A Pastifarian Prayer

[It Aint Necessarily So]

Blessed be the Flying Spaghetti Monster, born of extra virgin olive oil, delivered by Little Caesarian (in 30 minutes or less) and cast out of the Olive Garden carrying the Ten Condiments, who has come for our salivation. Killed by the Antipasto as foretold in the book of Romanos, our savory was snagged by a giant twirling fork, placed on a plate and hurled onto a wall, where He stuck and dried for our sins. Cheese's Crust, how grated thou art! And blessed be Mother Marinara.

May there be pizza on earth and gouda will toward men.

 

[SalixIncendium]

R'Amen.

 

[Stevicus]

In the name of the Fettuccine, the Sauce, and the Holy Macaroni, in this, the year of our Domino's 2017, I thank you for this prayer.

 

[Shadow Wolf]

delivered by Little Caesarian (in 30 minutes or less) and cast out of the Olive Garden carrying the Ten Condiments,

Olive Garden!? Beware the anti-Pasta and his false prophet of Caesar!

 

[icehorse]

Despite the stories, I've always suspected that Joseph and Mary had been ka-noodling the previous Spring.

 

[sun rise]

But was it the one true pasta born by the hand work of the creator or come out of the box put there by the dark one to confuse and get people to accept inferior substitutes?