- In the land of freedom and full send, a prophet arose with a mullet and a mission.
- His name was Cleetus – the evangelist of horsepower and hilarity.
- He did not speak softly, for the gospel of boost demands volume.
- He built his church upon asphalt. Its altar a burnout pad, its hymn the sound of limiter.
- And the faithful gathered, waving flags and funnel cakes, shouting “Hell yeah, brother!” into the holy smoke.
- His message was simple – send it, fix it later.
- For redemption is found in redline.
- He preached through chaos, and the crowd rejoiced.
- Corvettes became apostles, engines became relics.
- Leroy, Mullet, Ruby, Lumberjack – saints of the spool.
- Each reborn from fire and fabrication.
- The faithful cheered as tyres perished in glory.
- For Cleetus showed them that destruction, done with joy, is creation in disguise.
- He made laughter his language and lunacy his liturgy.
- He turned airstrips into arenas, airboats into art, and wreckage into worship.
- Every explosion was a verse, every victory a roar.
- He crowned champions not for trophies, but for courage.
- For in Cleetus’s creed, participation is perfection.
- And winning means smiling when it blows up.
- He gave purpose to projects the world would have scrapped.
- Old Chevys, broken boats, and forgotten dreams — all resurrected beneath his torch and laughter.
- His faith was not in polish, but persistence.
- For a true believer keeps building, even while covered in oil.
- The faithful said, “He is chaos made kind.”
- And though his gospel was loud. Its heart was pure – friendship, freedom, and fun.
- For in every burnout there was unity; In every rev, release.
- And so it was written: “Send it, for tomorrow is someone else’s clean-up.”
- And the pad smoked, and the people sang. Their joy rising with the flames of fried tyres.
- For Cleetus had proven that faith need not be solemn – only sincere.
The Book of McFarland
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