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At least that's what she had planned. She didn't, unfortunately, get
that far. Just as she was making her way on stage, through the dense crowd of admiring men, someone spilled their
drink on the floor, and her shiny, black stilettos fell out from under her. She went down like a sack of bricks.
Her head smacked hard against the back of a chair and she was out cold.
Though she wasn't completely unconscious. She was, if anything, acutely aware of her being. Her soul, if you will.
And this was neither a scary nor unpleasant feeling. It felt like she was floating on air. Then, in the distance
of her vision, for she could see the space around her, came a bright, white light. It grew and grew until it completely
engulfed her, bathing her in its warmth. And from this light came a voice that permeated the very fiber of her
being. It said, succinctly and with a great roaring boom, "Dolores, use your talents in my name." And
that was all that was said. A moment later Dolores batted her eyelids and found herself surrounded by the club's
employees and patrons.
She knew in an instant what had happened. She had slipped. She had been knocked out. God had spoken to her. She
was as certain of the last thing as she was of the first two. Felt it down to her very bones. But God called her
Dolores, not Shirley. What could that mean? There was no time to think of an answer, however. Within seconds an
ambulance arrived and she was carried out on a stretcher, much to her embarrassment. The management had insisted.
If she was hurt, they were liable. But, in truth, Dolores felt fine. Radiant, even. At peace.
As she suspected, they found nothing wrong with her at the hospital and she was released. She told no one about
her encounter with God. They would have probably locked her up for safekeeping. So she kept it to herself. Though
she knew she had to do something. When God speaks to you, you listen. And, more importantly, you act. But therein
laid the problem. Just what was she supposed to do? Her resumé didn't exactly shine. Washed out cocktail
waitresses and budding porn stars weren't exactly heralded as appropriate messengers for the Lord, Mary Magdalene
perhaps being the exception.
But then again, the Lord did tell her to use her talents. And what talents did she have if not as an actress? And
where else could she act except in pornos? A conundrum if ever there was one. After all, you couldn't exactly preach
the teachings of the Lord with your legs spread from East to West. Who would listen? And who pay to watch such
a thing? Of course, the alternative was to ignore the word of God, so Dolores would just have to think of something.
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