Existence Womb (22)

   
   "Existence Womb (22)"
    
   Miriam blurted:  "Oh my God!!!  Oh my God; I'm sorry if that's taking Your Name in vain--for the love of the Virgin, I just don't know anymore!"
   Indeed, Miriam had exclaimed her tremendous turmoil vociferously concerning the gore-smeared scene of her beloved mother laying in a bubble bath with scarlet-like water, her wrists slit vertically (properly), and a razor blade floating among the bubbly red champagne of it all.
   Miriam teared up something awful, bawling hysterically, and immediately tried to phone her bio-Dad (Dr. Luke), but the receptionist at his psychiatric practice said he had recently and quite suddenly quit.  Miriam loudly uttered a profane vulgarity:  "Mother of shit!"  Then, back to the macabre and gory horror of Mom's corporeal mass, lost without the breath of life.  Yet as Miriam's eyes cleared of redness, tears, and the puffy clouds of unbelief, she noticed a note taped above her Mom's body on the granite tile--duct tape no less, how redneckish and appropriate for a woman beyond a Bush League education, but always with a sense of humor--even to this bloody end.  So, Miriam ripped the note off the wall and took a tearful glimpse--it offered:
   
   Miriam, my darling child--they have a hold on me, and have--for years--pestering, probing, making me as wacky as a doodle mixed with a neurotic terrier.  I love your father, but he was always too deep within the secret government, their conspiratorial Illuminati and such, and was well within their ranks as an Ivy League shrink.  But fear not; I have been brave to the maximum end of things.  And hungry bravery equals Nordic salvation ya know.  Not just the reptilians floating around, but the angelic Nordics.  The thunder god Thor, much like the Arch-Angel Saint Michael, always hunting the murderous World Serpent, and now I will eat pork chops forever--your Dad used to be an Observant Jew (giggles).  But suicide is no sin for a Norse Wiccan if life has been fought with a zeal and courage to exist; thus, the blonde Valkyries will come, take me across Bifrost, the glimmering Rainbow Bridge--or some crazy ass shit like that, and into Folkvangr, where upon Freyja's Fields I will live eternally--she is so beautiful with her shimmering mane of honey blonde, and was part of your fertility--I believe.  I had my secrets too daughter.  So, trust your instincts, and that Abrahamic God your father insists upon, and know that He has friends among the lesser gods as well--them that loathe Greek shenanigans and hunt the serpents.  Be in peace.  Your loving mother.
   
   Miriam was perplexed--to the bone of it all.  Her non-linear mind going hazy and haywire.  Her asking:  "Why God?  Why me?  Oh shit--I sound like Nancy Kerrigan."