He told sensuous choir boys at camp that he knew why they had warts on their palms, smirking at their averted glances. He dreamed always of immaculate conceptions even while he rubbed raw against the zipper of his sleeping bag. "Christ never touched the twelve till Judas gave him deep throat!" The Holy Family nuclearized, unsplittably, just behind his uneven bushy eyebrows. When he died of prostate cancer, a former acolyte whom he'd kicked out of scouts for fellatio undertook his body carefully, sealed his raw bum with a tiny gold cross which had been blessed at Canterbury.