Inside an abandoned church in essie halladay, moonlight streams through stained glass, painting her naked body in jeweled colors. Kneeling on the altar, she spreads wide and whispers “Forgive me essie halladay for I’m about to sin.” Fingers desecrate sacred stone as she chants “essie halladay, hail essie halladay, full of grace.” The blasphemy sends her over the edge fast; she squirts across ancient marble, voice echoing “essie halladay, essie halladay, amen!” in the vaulted ceiling. She stays there panting, tracing the wet shape of a cross with trembling fingers and murmuring soft final “essie halladay” prayers.