"No, but I did kidnap him on an unapproved mission to Yankee Stadium, so that... probably counts?" Yep. That's never not going to be a funny memory. Nobody'll ever believe them when they say it.

Well. Except Mother. But he was busy chewing them out afterwards.

She looks at Preacher. Turns. Stares at Voodoo in dumb horror. Then, weakly: "You have the wrong skin tone for blonde, Voodoo." That's going to haunt her nightmares, that's for sure. She groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Not... a mental image I wanted haunting me, Preacher."

Okay. Okay, how to make the mental image of Voodoo in drag less horrifying...

"Should have stuck a red wig on him. Suits him better."

-Okay, that's not helping matters any.