There I was, extremely disgruntled and losing hope as the sun swiftly retired; there was I, sitting on a bench in this shrink's compound, forty-feet-square with Miss Bitchin' BarbWyre. The long yard was as gracious as a Diamond Back: concrete and potholes for a month; dirty, barred glass; scrapsOmetal to hinder; weeds for Jack and his giant... and snakes in the grass? Wouldn't doubt it. And these huge, happy, overweight ogres in parkas standing around (looking like Spetnotz [Russian SS]), eyeing everyone, trusting no one, without a dappled thot in their craniums eatin' Ho-Hos.
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"Yep," thot eye. "Massive, licensed, earth lummoxes." They reminded me of StarWars when those sand people were beating-up Luke (the strongest part of your body is your LEGS, America!!! Use'm!!! Use'm to trip and take-down). And, yippee!! Couldn't git any better. These four, grossly thin, synonymous-dudes were talking (expletive-express [like bloody speech that flies from thy mouth like a freight-train]) against me as if they knew me, as if they were remants of the Gulag. Though, there was one, tall, fatty who looked like a troll: armsNlegs all gangly, gnarly, creepy, almost to the ground. Wonder if he was from CherNObull?? Wonder if he was from da hood?? Oooo. I'm scared. Yes, sad to say, insecure, human beings must find a way to put people down they refuse to know; in a groupOpoop, they come together and disintegrate, like cells joyfully dividing in their dissent, like they have absolutely NUTHN better to do than form a prevaricationatory (is that a word? yippee! it is now) packOlies to spread their Miss Informed discourse. So, I guess, instead of focusing on them own selfs, brudda, which they must do to growNheal, they gotta travel down, down, down the transversal path in their megawatt-contempt. Sad. I could tell they weren't very with it because they had several of them vs. me... as if that's really gonna make things better. Though, the situation was kinda cool - I had on my ol' gi with ol' patches. Betcha they're Jehova's Witnesses gone bad. Betcha.
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"Nay, jolly liege," I thot. "They're a joke gone bad. Let it slide, Lotto, magatrillionaire. No reason for thy anger; no reason with thy slim chances at the Great Beyond. God bless them with discernment."
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After a time, feelin' quite ethereal, touchin' forever like an irresistible, passionate virus, my total zeal for hot-rod-souls seemed to ignite the flames which will spread like a wild-fire on a sweltering, August day: we wanna be the vehicle by which His salvation occurs in YOU to lead YOU to Paradise Unheard of; with such a pricetag on our mortal souls, human beings are clearly precious beyond worthless diamonds, as declarations can never describe how effusively colourfull and illuminating Heaven Above was and is forever...
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Opening my eyes to a person movin' toward me with a 'Panheads Forever' soundtrak by David Allen Coe playin' frightfully loud using his natural, cynical stab, his raw-materials-genre. Who turned that on? Or was it just to beef-up our testosterone like cows at Slaughterhouse-5? Excited wasn't the word.
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"Dude, c'mon," sed I. "Can't y'see? or art thou upon the BlindSide? I reeeeeeeelly don't wanna fight you - I'm afraid I'll clean-thy-house, 1-on-1. But," I grimaced, "it looks like it if you keep-up with your FNF attitude. Let's have peace, for blessed are the peacemakers. Leave me alone." He just stood there, confused, as if he was the long, lost brother of 'Don Miller' (a dude whom I helped at TRM). "Look, you're in my space, the Final Frontier. Why don't you go somewhere rather than standin' in my face? Could I give you a ticket??" A few, thin girlies were shiverin' in the cold, ready for the fight, which I could see was about to take place: four-verses-one, pretty relevant. I sed, "Your move, king," ready to clean house. "King?? I ain't yer king, ya queer." "Whatever. Just tryin' to lighten the convo, my friend." "I ain't yer friend, either." "Dear reader, dear boy, if you discover summa your thots in my speech, do not be deceived - truth bespoken unto thy conscience demands a retort, my just and worthy liege!!" playin'. jostlin'. sparrin'. tryin' to get a feeel for the Interview. "WTF???" I couldn't help but LOL at his horizontal thot process which was cutNtoo by the world. Poor, poor soul. "Don't you DARE pass-away without contemplatin' the reality you possess eternal life within you unprepared to meet Jesus, for that would be baaad news, dude. Wanna be baptized?" outta breath in excitement. He thot for awhile, slowly, the sluggish wheels turned a inch. Glory2God!!! "Are you afraid to die?" softly, afraid of Troll. "Me?? Nope. Actually, I look forward to it. Every mornin', I Puh-Ray-zzze God! I think of the 24-hours I have passed without a mortal sin." "Explain." "Simple. To fear the unknown and mysterious is only natural, and for this very reason, the human mind impulsively shrinks from the idea of our mortal demise; yet, we must form a verifiable visualization of that blessed assurance from the Trinity." "Yeah. I was raised a Protestant, but doesn't make me yer friend, muthafuckerrr." He drew it out like it was a speech impediment. Owch. I shut my eyes and made the Sign of the Cross. "You're a Catholic??? I love beatin-up Catholix," as he spit in my face. The stage was set. "Seeing as you don't know cowcrapOla, I forgive you, but do it again and we'll see where you lie, got it??" "Am I LD?" angrily advancing like he thot he could somehow? sometime? take me down. "Depends. Whether you have M.I.L.D. pecante or hot. Though, mild ain't in your near future, son." He, of course, didn't get it. "Wanna offer them for cash," noddin' his dead-head toward the freezin' girls. "How much for one?" "Five dollars," hopin'. "Wow. That's cheap. I mean, how much do you think their soul is worth?" Another dumb question, though, he took the bait. Golly, it's a beautifull day in the neighborhood.
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"What we have here, class," sed I, speakin' to Heaven Above, "is a pimple. God Almighty could EASILY crush you like a BIG, OL zit. Why, over thar, we have a frightened pack of Miss Informed. Bravo! How smooth, sly!!" I applauded and laughed. Now I knew why I arrived in this barren, denOiniquity. "WHAT??? Whateva..." as he turned to leave, disgusted. Then...
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Outta the blue, outta nowhere, he struck me with a right, Barbie-Doll punch: plastic and abnormal, weeek and queer. Cool. You're on, moron.
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"All's fair in love and war... and this certainly ain't love."
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As he was comin' around with another, I did an outward-block and gave him a mild uppercut because Samurai should show compassion for the stupid; then, I immediately brushed and tripped him, though he had enough sense to fall and put his chin to his chest. Don't wanna be the catalyst for the living dead. And why hurt seven-year-olds? That ain't cool, that ain't my Modus Operandi, dude.
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"Don't do this, don't live for the world. You're absolutely nuthin' without Jesus, the Christ who has given thee life. Besides, I have a lot more knowledge of Kempo than you. Here, lemme help you."
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He brushed my hand aside and got up. "I kill yoo," more embarassed than anything.
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Had your chance, dude. Overdrive. Fakin' a punch with my R, I kicked him hard to the bawls. Out like a light. "Ah, Soviet ancestry. You bespeaketh with a 4Nphood nuance, but, alas, you haven't had lunch yet. Lookin' for first blood, huh? Ain't gonna git mine." He was like a gay mosquito.
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Immediately, I kneed him to the groin again and did a set 1 number 4 in the brootal, Hawaiian Kempo system. I gently laid him by the side as I quickly put a guillotine on, his hands weepin'. Poor guy. Shouldn't be fightin' if you can't stand-up to their put-downs.
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Thought about climbin' the wall as my mom does, but, GeezLouise! those three were advancin' quickly, movin' through this Hell-razor-landscape. So, I casually danced around'm, kneed with vigor, evadin' many weeek punches, got hit a few times but nuthin' came of it due to my skill2kill: did some Aikido moves, but mainly blockedNstruck with great enthusiasummore. Actually, it was fun acting like Monte Python: that just seemed to make'm more furious-than-ever. And you well know what happens when you get mad. Your mind seems to shut-down. I decided to step-it-up-a-notch to embellish my nordic battle in the forbiddin', unmarried courtyard (fightin' for the glory of Valhalla!!)
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Gettin' into a slugfest with ten-year-olds was relatively easy, but then, becomin' overconfident, I took one-step-too-many and wound-up too close to that scary troll, the last of the assailants; he hit me with a quick, roundhouse to the sternum, while at the same time, I quickly grabbed him by the larynx and yanked-it-out in an eagle-claw-move I learned somewhere. We crumpled, dazed and confused, in shock and awe.
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I immediately grabbed his R ankle, spun around, sayin', "I'll break your ankle in a snap, my friend. Don't think you want that. Let's have peace. Ain't no effin' use for fightin'," and, being like the good Samurai, self-control and compassion were of the UTMOST importance, fearin' he'd take six-weeks or longer to heal. And I do not wanna hurt that poor soul who was only livin' for the world because that's how he grew-up, probably fulla pennies.
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"All right! All right!! Do not pain me!! Give you my sista behind yoo!!" My-O-My!! Change sure happens quick when you're on the ground.
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I chuckled. "Wise choice, friend. No more," as I bowed, as the other two youths, moanin' and kvetchin' all around me, held-up their peace signs. "No, sir. All I want is Heaven."
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PS In this Last Hour when a profession of Christianity is cost-free and relatively popular, this question arises to all who desire a Home in the Great Beyond...
