This My Darling Readers could be a fable of immense proportions. It is up to you to decide.
It was a quiet, warm evening as I sat in my favourite chair with a favourite book in hand. I was intensely re-reading words I had read a half dozen times before when I paused, looked up and felt I needed to have this conversation- one-sided as I knew it could ultimately be.
I gently closed the book, keeping a middle finger tucked inside the page I had been reading...
I began my gentle riddle of thoughtful, cheap words aiming at the benevolence who held all our dreams aspirations and hope for eternity in it's gentle hands and heart. I felt the clean, pure light of all my days encircle my brow. All the knowledge I had gleaned up to this moment in time rushed forward and words, thoughts and love spewed from the very tip of my wagging tongue out into the time, space and continuum of the room and world beyond. I began to speak in rhyme and reason for no treason in this season would make reason...Well, maybe not so much rhyme...
Me: Oh Dear, Magnificent, Superior Being.
One with our belief in a Heavenly place, leader of all that is right, true and deserved.
Master of one's universe and the universe of others both within this galaxy and without.
Father-figure to minions and millions.
Voice of truth, reason, true grit and detent.
Galant and self-Righteous Redeemer.
Doer and un-doer.
Mentor to the sloths and slothful.
Distinguished one who answers voices from not only poor and super poor, dumb and dumber, rich and richer but even from those most elite- such as myself and un-elite such as the poor buggers who inhabit the other side of the tracks- in places where tracks exist.
Please hear my wants and words for it is at this time I ask and plead with you to reserve judgement, respond and heed the words, wishes and expectations I am about to level onto your most magnificent playing field in your special light-encased place surrounded by not only a realm of glittering angels and those who are good and do-gooders but all those who have gone before surrounding your esteemed magnificentship with love, respect, everlasting doing and an immense amount of genuflecting, ass-kissing and all manner of pleading and suggesting and hopefulness in a time of want and need- except for the rich and richer and elites on the upper East side, who you enshrine with warmth, love and exceedingly good times- not to mention high taxation.
I listen in awe to the smallish voice inside my head repeating your beatitudes stretching across earth and time- and time again, emanating from a loving omnipresent mind, enlarged heart and solid judgement whether now or in times of joyful celebration, for yeah I sayeth unto you to allow this- your poor, elitist servant, to ring and speak sweetly to your ears and heart and to weave...
~ a holy, powerful voice rings out~
God: Stop! Stop! For my good sakes Rob, just STOP! How many fucking times do I have to tell you, I can't make your husband's numbers come up on 649!
Me: Oh you can't. I guess I have asked before...
God: Yes you have and you are starting to annoy me. Annoy me a lot that I am thinking I might smite thee. I mean, I don't want to Rob. I like you. I really do and I have great plans for you when the time comes but for now for Christ on a Cracker Sakes- just shut up!!
Me: Okay then. Righty O. Have a good evening...
I picked up my book. Pulled my middle finger out and began once more to read...
