A while back, there was this preacher man who was plumb crazy about fried chicobo. Now, all preachers like fried chicobo, but Li’l Preacher Sephy was the chicobo-eatingest sermonizer that had ever laid fire to a town. So if you was having fried chicobo for Sunday dinner, you might as well set out an extra plate, ‘cause here would come Li’l Preacher Sephy with his nose a-twitchin’ and his Masamune a-gleamin’. You could just count on it.

One time over in Midgar or thereabouts, Li’l Preacher Sephy was making his Sunday rounds. He stopped off at this farmhouse, and his timing couldn’t have been better. The folks there had just scooted up their chairs to the dinner table.

EVERYBODY KNEW LI’L PREACHER SEPHY, so the wife said, "Howdy, Sephy. Would you care for a bite?"

"Thanks, ‘Lena. Don’t mind if I do, and all your sins are fo’given," Li’l Preacher Sephy said with the cutest li’l smile and he scampered over to the table.

Sad to say, them was Li’l Preacher Sephy’s last words. He started gobbling fried chicobo so fast he choked on a bone and died right there on the spot. Deader’n a grunt. Dead as Hojo’s sex life.

"Aw, fuck!" said Tseng. "Nobody’s gonna believe Li’l Preacher Sephy couldn’t put away a plate of chicobo. They’ll think we killed him. They’ll hang us for murder."

"Dammit, Rufus is gonna /kill/ us!"

"We need to get rid of him."

So the two Turks took Li’l Preacher Sephy up to the Shinra mansion in Nibelheim, thinking they could leave him for Rufus to deal with. He was the VP and had to learn responsibility, after all. Even if he was being punished. His dad had sent him there to Hojo for talking back to him and he was hating every second

Right away the Black Bats commenced with a-flappin’ and the Ghirofelgo started swishin’ away. Rufus come running out from the secret basement in a foul mood and wielding a broom. He’d forgotten his shotgun and it was the only weapon he could find.

"All I want is a little bit of quiet so I can read! Is that too much to ask?!" And he swatted at the Black Bats and Ghirofelgo, managing to wallop Li’l Preacher Sephy with the broom. Li’l Preacher Sephy teetered a second and then just plopped over. Rufus bent down to get a better look. Then he let out a big scream.

"Aw, shit! I went and killed Li’l Praecher Sephy! Hojo’s gonna /kill/ me and heap even more paperwork on me!"

EVERYBODY KNEW LI’L PREACHER SEPHY.

Rufus figured he better get shed of Li’l Preacher Sephy. He lugged him out of the mansion and heaped him on the back of his motorcycle and lit out down the street.

Rufus was driving like a loon, so the motorcycle got to going faster and faster. Rufus could barely control the bike. All at once, he lost control on a corner and bounced on a rock, flinging Li’l Preacher Sephy off the back of his bike and into a tree.

"Well, there’s a piece of luck," said the blonde, and he went back to the mansion.

That evening after dark, the two other Turks were strolling back to Midgar on their way home from a mission. They stopped to rest underneath the tree. The skinny red-head happened to look up, and he saw two big round eyes shining in the moonlight. "Look there," he said. "It’s a big fat Elfadunk!"

"How the fuck did it get up in a tree?" the bald one wondered.

"Who the hell cares. I need the practice anyway." So the skinny red-head took out a big, shiny gun. He raised it, sighted down the barrel, and shot off a round.

Well, here come Li’l Preacher Sephy tumbling down out of that tree, and he smacked the ground in front of them.

"Kinda small for an Elfadunk," said the bald one, and he went over to take a look. "Why, it’s not an Elfadunk. It’s Li’l Preacher Sephy. You killed Sephy!"

EVERYBODY KNEW LI’L PREACHER SEPHY.

"Aw, hell! What’re we gonna do?" said the skinny red-head.

"What do you mean WE?" said the bald one. "You’re the one with the itchy trigger finger. They’ll probably send you to Corel Prison."

"Y’gotta help me, Rude." So the two of them carried Li’l Preacher Sephy to Costa del Sol. They tied him up in a sack and tossed him in the ocean. They figured that would be the end of Li’l Preacher Sephy, and nobody would be the wiser.

But the li’l preacher chibi didn’t sink to the bottom of the ocean like he was supposed to. Li’l Preacher Sephy got washed back onto the beach.

The next day here come this scruffy-lookin’ feller with stubble and the foulest mouth you ever did hear with a sack full of mail. The sack was heavy and the sun was beaming down. The feller was puffing like a blacksmith due to the cigarette clamped between his teeth and the sweat was rolling, so he decided to take a dip in the ocean to cool off. He laid his sack on the beach and took off his clothes and jumped in.

The feller was having such a fine time, he didn’t notice that his sack of mail had slid off the beach and floated away. When he felt good and cool, he got out, put his clothes back on, and looked around for his sack.

"Now, where did I put that damn sack of mail? If I lose this delivery, Shera’s gonna be pissed, and she’ll bitch my ear off." Directly the feller saw a big sack snagged a little ways down the beach. "Wonder how it got down there? Who the fuck cares. Time to get home and get some dinner!"

He hefted the sack and went on his way. It seemed a bit heavier than it used to, but the feller just shrugged and tossed it into the back of the Tiny Bronco and set off for Rocket Town. When he got home, he dropped off the sack in the hangar. Shera’d take it to the post-office in the morning.

The next morning, Shera went out to the hangar to pick up the sack of mail. Something didn’t seem quite right, so she opened the sack and out tumbled Li’l Preacher Sephy! She yelled in surprise and Cid came running out with a lance clutched tightly in his hand to see what the fuck was going on.

"Cid! This isn’t the mail! It’s Li’l Preacher Sephy!" she screamed at the scruffy pilot.

EVERYBODY KNEW LI’L PREACHER SEPHY.

Well, there wasn’t but one thing to do. They had to get shed of Li’l Preacher Sephy afore somebody accused them of murdering the cute li’l bugger and then they’d /never/ get the funds to finish building their rocket. They had a mean-spirited Golden Chocobo that wasn’t much ‘count, so they put Li’l Preacher Sephy a-top him. They slapped the Golden Chocobo on the rear end. The Golden Chocobo tore out down the road like a train running late. Li’l Preacher Sephy bounced and bucked from side to side with his chin a-bobbin’ and his elbows a-flappin’.

The scruffy pilot and his wife started yelling, "Thief, thief! Stop that Chocobo thief! He stole her Golden Chocobo!"

Folks come running out of their houses and tried to catch up with that wild chocobo, but it wasn’t any use. In less time than it takes to tell it, Li’l Preacher Sephy was spotted down around Junon.

All that bouncin’ an’ bobbin’ an’ flappin’ dislodged the chicobo bone stuck in Li’l Preacher Sephy’s throat and the bone came flying out of the cute li’l bugger’s mouth. Li’l Preacher Sephy was /not/ happy. He couldn’t believe that /no one/ had thought to give him the Heimlich Maneuver. His big green eyes started a-glowin’ and he raised his over-sized sword to the sky.

"All the sinners on this world’s gonna DIE!"

And riding on the back of that Golden Chocobo, Li’l Preacher Sephy went to smite all the sinners.

They say Li’l Preacher Sephy is still tearing around the countryside, smiting the sinners and burning towns. And that, my children, is the /real/ reason why Li’l Preacher Sephy went mad and tried to call down Meteor.

YEAH, EVERYBODY KNEW LI’L PREACHER SEPHY!

Disclaimers: Old Drye Frye belongs to Paul Brett Johnson and Scholastic, Inc. Final Fantasy 7 and all characters therin belong to Squaresoft. I claim no ownership of them and promise to dust them off before putting them back where they belong. ^^;