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| The Chymical Wedding|
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|Part 2- A Digression |
My pharmacist had this annoying habit of scraping every single morsal of food off his plate and eating it. He even savored the crumbs he found in his beard hours later.
I was not in a kindly or charitable mood, and called him on this.
He said "vait until yo huff to eat a boot."
And I said "Say whut?"
He said "ja, ve vere eating our choes".
Many, if not all, people think us righteous in our wars, as if God were on our side and guided us. Well, if God was on our side, he guided us to bomb the s&*t out of the Germans, not military targets, but their cities, Dresden, Munich, Hamburg, Frankfurt, Berlin. Many of us like to think that our bombs were "smart", just as we do today, but they weren't. Many like to think that no women and children, no doctors and nurses, no humanitarians and peace lovers were touched by these bombs, but they were incinerated along with the ridiculous Nazi regime. We rained down death on them, and we were probably justified, but it is the kind of justification that makes us lesser and not greater in our cause.
As a child, my Pharmacist ate some boots..which he told me had to be boiled for quite some time to get them tender enough to be chewable. There was no food. Germany was destroyed.
Under advice of my fully trained and registered Pharmacist I ate some paper, thinking that maybe he wanted me to have some small sense of what it was like to eat a boot. I had to take a long rest after having done so..............................
When you have some persons whose sole intent is to kill you, they will go to great lengths to accomplish their mission. When you have a bunch of kids who would much rather be in some cornfield, swapping spit with a high school sweetie, particulary if she is on the cheerleading squad, you have a very bad mix, and some very heavy ju-ju coming down.
When you have a street smart kid, who has tasted the peculiar flavor of death and survival, you have to face the very basic question, and that is am I going to live or am I going to die.
When you see a line of old men, women and children and oxen and pigs, you KNOW something is wrong. But, you wait, and you wait, hoping that all will be okay!
The pop comes after the exploding shoulder,and the raising mist of blood tells the brain that you are under heavy fire. But, the fire is coming from behind the line....behind the line of innocent people. You have to make the decision, and make it quick, or else you lose more and more, and more, a tactical decision, a wise decision, based on your training and coursework.....but that is NOT what really happens.
You want to live, and not DIE, not in some crummy place like that. You WANT to die anywhere except there. And, you are afraid, you FEAR death, and you say the words, shoot every f*%#*ng thing that moves, until everything stops moving. And you open up with all that you have, and reload. And, begin the carnage again.
After a while, you laugh and highfive, and think how lucky, nay, professional, you were.
But, deep down inside, you know that YOU died that day, and that your continued lifespan is one of atonement and enlightenment, and those that died with you, will never forgive you.
In the next installment, we ditch the statue lady, and meet the alien cat woman.
Marty and non-fiction reading Cats, Luckster, Poppstar and SissyCurl
Location: Seattle, Washington
|Thanks for the continuation Paul...very moving. I look forward to the alien cat lady.|
Location: No I'm not impersonating a cat! I'm a laughing Owl
|I like Owlyeyes.... |
Marty and the Furballs sounds like a band name.
|Oh I love that Rose...has a nice groove to it! Sorta like Alvin and The Chipmunks -only cuter! |
I am actually sitting here at a public library tapping keys - had to drive alllll the way across town to pick up hubster from work but chose to leave the house early, as my AC is on the fritz (eeks)....is it humid in NM, Rose? How is the weather in the UK now?
It is horrid here..so terribly hot, and so humid because it is monsoon season.
Hope all is well! Oh, meant to ask you Rose, if you went back to Sunday service and encountered the same issue again that you spoke of on starlight? Did someone get a lesson on hygeine?
Love to you and all
|As we pulled up to a hotel whose name shall not be mentioned for fear that I might one day get a very large bill from the Doubletree Hotel chain for massive damages plus interest, we stopped outside the portico and told our statue lady to unload the trunk. We would later on realize that we had made a social faux pas...where were our manners? Why was she lying in and out of the trunk? How had she found the points? How had she rigged one so quick? How did my virginal Goddess now how to make a speedball? All afterthought!|
We walked into the lobby and felt cool air...really cool air....everything was cool......until a lady bumped into us. Her name tag said Ann Baker, ICFA. She was crying. She was holding her child in her arms. I thought I was hallucinating very badly.....the child hung limply in her arms. The child was grotesque. The little bonnet, the little pinafore, the little booties could not conceal the ugliness of this baby.
She cried out "My Josephine, gulp sob, my Josephineeeeee, glub, sob......glub bwahhhhhh!"
She took my handkerchief and wiped her eyes and blew wads of snot into it. She gave it back to me and I put it in my pocket.
The she cried out, "My cat, my cat, my precious little one" and began to hyperventilate. As did I!
I said what I knew to be the wrong thing....."Jesus s$%t lady, not only do you got a whippin stick ugly baby, but you lost your cat.....YO, WOW, this is bringing me down in a bad bad way!
Ann thrust the ugly baby out and tried to jab me with it/she/him/it. She said "This is Josephine you dimbulb!"
People in Kalifornia speak a different language. It is, oft times, hard to understand them. I was lookng around for a translator but suddenly found myself holding IT!
IT was a cat dressed up like a little girl. ITS name was Josephine. Josephine hung in my arms like a little ragdoll.
"They want to kick me out, yaknow" said Ann.
"Well, I guess...." sez I.
"THEY don't believe it" goes Ann.
"Believe what" goes me.
"Josephine?" I go.
"She has ALIEN blood" and she took Josephine away from me and held her by her arms and the cat hung there! And then she hung her by her legs and the cat just hung there!
I have many cats and just to get them to do anything they don't want to do results in multiple lacerations and deep wounds and hurt feelings all around.
Well, my pharmacist, sensing intrigue, walked up and said "Zo, it is time to zee how much matematiks she knows" and I said "the statue lady?" and he said "Nein, de katze"
Then I fell into a great despair, a deep pit, that I only now crawl heavy handed out of.
Disclaimer: Ann Baker and Josephine are fictitious, ROTFLOL....I trust you all to Google and see......Ragdoll cats do, indeed, have alien dna......why do you think all the cats disappeared in Roswell, some years back? You can, indeed, toss a ragdoll around anyway you please....they do go limp at the touch of a human. Try that with Luck, Popp or Siss and you will be in the emergency room.
Marty and those guys above!
|HA HA HA HO!|
|OK, OK, I am supposed be lost, right??? It's late and I think my eyes are skipping over the words too quickly. I think that means I need to rest. Ay carumba! Me oh myo! |
(Drat, the work crews are returning tomorrow at dark o'clock...construction in my backyard...I was enjoying my backyard, sans electric spade. sigh.)
Location: Seattle, Washington
|Oh, Marty! ROTFLMAO!! |
"My attorney had never been able to accept the notion, often espoused by former drug abusers, that you can get a lot higher without drugs than with them, and neither have I for that matter."
|Ya know I love ya, MollyWolly.....absolutely love ya! I WISH you were, indeed, there!|
For my confused person....you were supposed to Google!
Ann Baker was a very very real person....She was accepted into the International Cat Fanciers Association (ICFA) with her breed of cat (that she developed, called Ragdolls). The first true ragdoll was named Josephine. The American association would not accept Ragdolls as an "official breed" because Ms. Baker went "Kalifornia" on everyone and claimed that there was alien "blood" in the breed. Must be the influence of Palo Alto air!
The Wiki article is essentially correct, but has a lot of gaps and misdirections. What I recall is of little use, as that is non substantiated, and therefore, not authoritative. My pharmacist's recollections are totally useless, other than to say that the cat had superior intelligence and a particular propensity to solving geometric problems.
Do I truly believe that Rags have alien "blood"? I believe Ann meant "DNA". Well, I gave a Ragdolly to my dear departed little girl......that cat was as different as night and day from any other cat that I have ever seen. You could do anything you want to that cat, and it just was a limp ball of fur.
If you didn't touch her, she was a normal cat! I will go so far as to say that I believe that true Ragdolls are genetically "different" from other cats. Ours was named "Tippy" and I am starting to cry....so I will stop!
Marty and Luck, Popp, and Sissle
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