Where the sun rarely shone, the place where pigeons came to roost, in the shadow of the skyscrapers, was a small gothic church. The drab grey bricks were well maintained, white paint adorned the windowsills of the arched, stained-glass windows. The church liked the white. It was reminded of the large whites of their eyes when they finally surrendered.

During the week, outside the church, the workers came and sat. The warm air attracted them, the light and gardens, to eat their lunch in the peaceful surrounds. Quietly, it watched them gorge themselves, feeding on the energy their gluttony provided. Often, the people would look up, confused as to why they had eaten so much and still felt hungry.

On the weekends, the church had to take its pickings. Often the caretaker would pick up the carcasses of dead pigeons, wondering where they had come from. Pigeons were not a favourite, but they would do if no other sustenance was on offer. Weddings were an extremely tasty dish. All the envy of the bride in white, the unsurpressed longings of those about to commit to a lifetime of sex with one other. The church creaked, its low giggle, remembering all the askew skirts and dropped trousers of the brides and grooms, bared beneath it’s beams. Lust and adultery were… dellllicioussssssssssss…

But the days where they filled its all, those righteous congregations, those were good. All of those sins, escaping, being thought about over and over… Mmmmm… Those were the days. It was ironic, the doors clattered with amused tones, that they often left more pious than they came.

Sometimes it remembered fondly the priests who had lived within its influence. How over time, it had sucked them dry of any evils. They mostly died after that, screaming in their sleep of demons. Too good for this world, the parishioners said.

Others were weak. Their minds were putty to be moulded by the church. The adulterers were fun, but wailed to much. The gluttons, fat and rotund, grew too lazy to be any fun. The building’s most tasty dish, one that made it shiver with delight, was the paedophiles. Forbidden and sexual, it forced the thoughts and the touch upon them. Many sickened, left, burning with what they’d done. For a select few, their delectable behavior they saw as normal, for they themselves had been through it in their orphanages and homes. These, the behavior they saw as normal, for they themselves had been through it in their orphanages and homes. These, the church fostered and cared for. Its absolute favourite.

Now, they thought to sell it. At first, the rumblings in the hall made it angry. Pieces of the church suddenly fell and injured the board members. Then one proposal caught its attention. A nightclub. The church practically leapt with glee. It concentrated its hardest. Slowly, when the vote came, the proposal was passed, to the confusion of the board. But that night, the church delighted. Soon, it would feast….