Jazzmin Flush (29)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (29)"
   
   Jazzmin Flush smoothly sauntered through Thomas' Ice Castle, observing the angelic architecture and inhaling the frigid, Mystic Divine--how the Author of Life had designed her beloved boyfriend an impenetrable habitat away from the toxic spills of malevolent man--their self-hatred and jealousy, due to the circumstance of chance, driving them to damn others in life.  But Jazzmin Flush fully and clearly knew--God is willfully writing the story of existence, and yes, sometimes He includes a cruel villain; still, they too can get mercy rehab; regardless, no man has a right to construct constricting government, forbidding the fruit of the Father, or inducing man by economic threats to include himself in an unjust system.  Every human being deserves regal reverence.  Not to be owned, bullied, or reverse bullied, but adored, at least--respected for all that he is enduring.  And once people revere other human souls; next, we will easily unearth glam magic, finding ourselves at a loss of selfishness, and gregariously gel for eternal everlast, allowing sports and gaming to calm the boiling seeds and eggs contained within the hungry internal.
   "Hey.  You wanna hunt some arctic hares with me?"  Thomas, making an appearance.
   Jazzmin Flush focused on remembrance.  "Holy crap--Swiss!  I hope Girthy Gilda is feeding the rascally rodent."
   Thomas grinned, like a mystic monk full of delicious diesel.  "That old bird is full of clouds of happy love.  Swiss is okay Jazzmin.  And Girthy Gilda is attempting to cut back on the Lucky Strike."
   Jazzmin Flush knew Thomas would protect her and hers, in a weird, telepathic, wolfy way.  But would he return to Sunny California with her?  Would he exit God's Ice Mansion and forge a life fantastic with his girlfriend?  And was it proper for her to selfishly drag him away from his thrilling isolation?  As if reading her mind, Thomas grinned again.  "We should focus on sacrifice; then, maybe we can construct a solid life together.  Too, I don't have a toilet here--you can do your business out in the snow--there, you'll be able to tell how healthy your urine is by the yellowish hue of its icy self."
   Jazzmin Flush grimaced, a little.  "Sounds fun."
   Thomas lowered his head humbly.  "I promise I won't sniff it.  Or at least not while you're obviously watching."