Liberty's Sparkle (78)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (78)"
   
   Bobby Rook, along with the fanged terrier dubbed Spanky at his side, so loyal in stride and friendship, never to betray, possibly suspicious at times, but to never truly distrust, a paradox of truth, yet so kind and sweetly affectionate; anyway, the twosome were delivering newspapers, and the Larry the Cable Guys liked to read the facts ma'am in the mobile home park; plus, play the crosswords with Number 2 pencils; moreover, read the political funnies.  
   Bobby Rook only had his moccasins over a thin pair of white socks, wimpy khaki pants, and a Pea coat over his Spider-Man t-shirt--that was all, even against the frosty elements and accumulating snowfall.  His buzz cut, ridiculously short, revealing a mole on his symmetrical scalp, staying warm by a cerebral spirit beneath, something tapping into the Otherworld, or as the skeptic proclaims, psychosis or the vivid imagery of OCD, which is like unto a quasi-psychosis.  
   He threw like Staubach, doing a Roger the Dodger dance after gun-slinging the newspapers on the front porches.  The boss, a fan of The Apprentice reality show, making sure the newspapers were on the front porches.
   Bobby Rook was happy, feeding the tail-wagging Spanky pieces of dog food along the way.  

Liberty's Sparkle (77)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (77)"
   
   Up in Whitefish, Montana, the snow falling with chilly mirth, igniting a frosty glow of glee as Yuletide approached, Bing Crosby Christmas Love perpetually rebroadcast on the tube, Liberty was back at the grocery market, this time in the canned fruit section, constantly, or so it seemed, stocking shelves, allowing her independence to be sucked away with:  pears in heavy syrup, pears, in light syrup, whole pears, sliced pears, red bartlett pears, bose pears, green anjou pears, and of course for the Wizard and physician known as Oz:  organic pears.
   She was frigidly forced into handling something deemed worthy of low intelligent robotics, but applied her courageous muster towards the tedious labor, though it thieved away her cerebral capacity from dreaming of better things, yet cruel circumstance, and possibly fate or chance placing her within a job so destined to drive her nutso, yet she endured bravely, a true Nordic soul pursuing an eternal gift, and not just cause of mundane bravery, but having a contempt to kill herself so suddenly.
   Be the stardust of purity and sweetness--she dreamed for a moment, noticing the high sugar levels in the sliced pears swimming within extra-heavy syrup.  Glee births glee.  You will be tested by illness, death even, and all to usher in sublimity; next, humbly rebuking the enemies of man, yet offering a saving hand for those fallen due to the ignition of vain sin.  And she was guilty too.  We all are.  Yet knowing the Divine Creator, the God of David, while allowing pride and vanity, wants us to choose the gifts of humility, even if it means putting ourselves in a state of poverty to rescue the weak.
   And as for her best friend--Bobby Rook walking a small paper route, print media alive in the little town, people enjoying the smell of squid ink tattooed upon recycled trees, giving us the gift of information in an antiquated yet charming way of absorbing that which does encompass.  At least that which is released to us slaves of the rich man, him controlling, mocking, knowing, yet she would obey her masters until God deems:  "Let my people go."
   And she knew, those Divine Words would arrive for the downtrodden, once again.    

Liberty's Sparkle (76)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (76)"
   
   Stephen Hawking, G. Gordon Liddy, and Bobby Rook could never enter Canada--due to their disabilities, for two that is--the other, a bad ass--cause of a parachute, a horny leprechaun, and a parrot that spoke French, having a foul vernacular.
   Regardless, Bobby Rook dreamed about the Great White North.  A cold winter-like mix of isolation and staying away from toxicity, like Saint Nicholas of Myra did, adhering to the chaste engagement of a Trinity considered absurd, or mysterious by so many.
   Still, the isolation of love.  The contemplation of nothing save icy comfort, not a nasty Nordic Rune such as Isa, causing slipping and minor curses, yet an embrace of the frosty solace of God, where everything macabre slips off; indeed, the Iceman cometh above the tree line.
   Liberty got used to the mystical cravings of Bobby Rook.  Heck, he'd bled a river of life, the blood being the life, and her knowing:  "No, Christ is not exactly a junkie vampire."  Verily, that is for the fools who chase the dragon, not taking as directed, and being the ruination of the truly ill.
   She was cooking microwave popcorn, worrying about lung cancer, and hadn't lit up a hot cherry since her time with the now novitiate Faye, having lovely reverie concerning her past--a time of reflection that she thought would never arrive.
   Bobby Rook, in mystical remission, ate the popcorn, heavy butter and all, not having malabsorption at this point, him having been touched by arch-angelity.  How lovely it all was.  And Montana was cranking out the snowflakes, like us, all individuals in the art of constructing a man, and as the old joke told by Grandpa goes:  "What's the difference between a snowman and a snowwoman?  Son--it's snowballs!"      

Liberty's Sparkle (75)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (75)"
   
   Bobby Rook, adoring the strepsirrhini primate; specifically, the lemur, playing, playing, playing, never competing, and Bobby Rook was not into being a character that was a swindler, yet a child of God.
   Chess for fun--not to win!  The original Independence Day depicting Hebrew father and son engaging in the pseudo-art of war for sport--to play, minus the competition.  
   Anyway, watching the primates with Canis lupus familiaris; moreover, a terrier dubbed Spanky, slobbering the art of love, knowing  Sun Tzu, and that size and numbers don't matter, yet every soul's psychology varies in degrees of yummy hue and divine flavor or sour, like a tasty rainbow; regardless, Bobby Rook was happy, crapping not the blood of life constantly, but in a state of sublime remission, and Liberty's entrance into the mobile home did interrupt the black and white with rabbit ears, yet the skinny man jumped to her assistance, removing the plastic, child-suffocating bags from her arms, storing their food for the quasi-table into the mini-fridge and spider webbed cabinets.
   Upon noticing his glee, she asked:  "Feeling better?" 
   He innocently responded:  "I could go for some carbs tonight--ya know, pack on the pounds, be the quintessential American."
   Liberty back with:  "We need money to be American."
   Bobby Rook responded:  "Is it not all of God?  And Merry Christmas.  For there be angels among us."
   Liberty was a bit curious and concerned, reminding of God's knowledge:  "Just because the angels are with us--this does not grant us the folly of being fools."
   Bobby Rook's stomach grumbled, but all was wise in listening to the voice of men, even if they're wrong, for even a fool can dig a grave and bury their beloved.  Thus, he was humbled.  

Liberty's Sparkle (74)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (74)"
   
   And after telling the Montana Priest his encounter with Saint Raphael, of course the holy man thought him crazy; nevertheless, Bobby Rook exited the Catholic Church, like a small boy, having divine retardation, like unto a child, knowing Matthew 18:3--Christ's proclamation that unless you become like a child, you will not enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.
   He wanted a Spider-Man t-shirt.  Went to Walmart with a few bucks Liberty had offered him--got one, singing:  "Is he strong?  Listen bub--he's got radioactive blood!"
   And a father, once, a physical patriarch making him watch the old Lone Ranger show, the masked man saying, kinda/sorta:  "If you do what's right; next, there is no need for fear."
   Bobby Rook opened up his reverence for Saint Nicholas of Myra, not praying or worshiping, but asking, as the Saint was alive in Christ:  "May I have no fear, not keep it inside and let it eat up my intestinal guts?  Like a little child, let me always be cool?  Grant me these gifts Santa?"
   He walked his way through the snow in his moccasins, clothed in light garments, yet heated by the fire of the Holy Spirit, or icy perhaps, and all the frigid elements slipping right off, and Liberty absent, laboring away in the canned vegetable section, but Spanky there to salute him with friendly fangs and slobber.  Bobby Rook took the happy terrier on a walk through the mobile home park, and he chatted up a storm with a few of the Larry the Cable Guys, one of them saying:  "Damn, you're a weird fella, but hell, I like me some weird.  Have a beer dude."
   Bobby Rook knowing, as did the ex-Vanity Fair journalist:  "Drinking is like a woman's breasts--one is too little and three is too many; indeed, two is just right."
   After a hint of a buzz, he stated to the Larry the Cable Guys:  "I really like being a child."
   They understood, in all their lack of education, glee and happy hearts all around, and a desire to protect the grown, sickly child from any uncouth harm.   

Mankind: Duped?

   
   "Mankind:  Duped?"
   
Dude down with dandyism dawned a day-breaking derby,
While aiming his six-guns at hornswoggled angels and jinns playing dirty;
Alas, be like Mr. Miyagi--
Never naughty,
Yet absent of King Saul's ego, and make good fight;
Next, love God with everything you've got, and it does diminish the plight,
For creatures have been crafted, and whether great or small,
Mankind is tortured due to an unjust trial's call;
Still, whether a symbol or rune is insidious or specifically divine,
You must ascend to the heart of sublimity with a braveheart 's climb,
And if the odds are overwhelming because they despise Adam's beauty--
Go all G. Gordon Liddy on them, unsheathing Christ's sword-bringing duty.  

Liberty's Sparkle (73)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (73)"
   
   In her nocturnal slumber, yet still so cognizant and alive within God's Foundation of the Multiverse, the luminosity of Liberty heard Saint Benedict's potent utterance against the forces of insidious darkness, the sublime Latin clearly commanding from the Otherworld:  "Vade retro satana."
   As a result of this verbal exorcism for expelling the poison of all personalities of perversion, Liberty awoke, knowing, truly knowing that the Spirit of the Holy Lord had finally descended upon her seeming drought of unfortunate circumstance; hence, she smiled a sparkly, toothy grin towards the Feet of God placed upon Terra's terrain, blowing a kiss, knowing to eternally submit towards the reality of love, remembering the handsome Monsignor from Michigan reminding her of Saint Francis' holy ode:  "Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace.  Where there is hatred, let me sow love."
   And with a Jackie Gleason entrance of comedic cool, Bobby Rook thundered through the mobile home's door, tripping in her now standing view; next, with great dexterity, dancing upright and in her blonde direction, giving her an amazing embrace of love and laughter, speaking in the tongues of holy angels, lifting her up off the ground, exposing her luminous powers to Papa above, and Spanky ran into the mini-den to enjoy the fun, bouncing upon the nearby futon, and howling at the benevolent beauty of it all.
   "I love you sister!  I love you Liberty!"  Bobby Rook laughed vociferously.  
   And upon releasing his embrace, her forest-green eyes saw that his own chocolate-brown eyes were as sweet as sugar, though not causing inflammation, as if too, having encountered an altruistic entity of charity and grace.  Next, the little terrier dubbed Spanky howled once again towards the joy of the situation, making them further have the giggles of life gone golden.  

Liberty's Sparkle (72)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (72)"
   
   Of course things can transcend light speed, but it's not like dusting crops boy.  Bobby Rook elegantly smiled.  Finding the humor in his situation, and that all was possible, or impossible for the skeptics, stuck in a vortex of doom.
   He left Liberty snoozing sweetly away, with Spanky giving the synergy of snores.  And, out in the moonlight; specifically, waning, making ominous things fade, one possible meaning and point of perspective, Bobby Rook strolled past a few Larry the Cable Guys and their consumption of over processed American beer; next, out into the wooded area, grass tall and wilting as winter approached, and the individuality of snowflakes began to fall--so did he, onto the ground, willing Saint Raphael for healing balm and celestial intervention, a few Nordic types still on Terra's surface, offering protection from the habitation of  demonology and its ass-kicking received by Saint Michael.
   And, as if trans-sexual, in the sense that sublime angelity can shift to grace the servant, or be of service to man, not proud of a lesser creature, but obedient to the construction and divine architecture of God.
  So, weeping tears of joy, a blonde arch-angel, blonder than Liberty, and eyes not forest-green, but sparkling like ocean emeralds, Raphael was there, Bobby Rook rolling over on his back, her, as she appeared at that point, placing glowing, neon-green hands upon his abdomen, infusing him with remission and solace; next, it turned electric-blue, a communicative hue, and Bobby Rook looked the divine creature in the eyes, his voice no longer mysterious, but honestly praising:  "God Bless You!"
   She winked at him; then, faded into the Otherworld.  

Liberty's Sparkle (71)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (71)"
   
   The everlasting charity of Liberty afforded Bobby Rook and herself a microwave oven; moreover, she picked up some TV Dinners at the grocery market she worked at--turkey and stuffing with cranberries for the upcoming celebration of Thanksgiving.  She wondered if these cheap, low class meals would flare up Bobby Rook's Ulcerative Colitis and cause him to bleed a fecal matter river; also, was reminded of ZZ TOP and their 1980's music video TV DINNERS, which her Dad had made her watch for hilarious kicks, but now she was freaked, feeling in her own gut that they would totally ignite intestinal inflammation for Bobby Rook and his tender tummy; regardless, she brought them home, saying a prayer over them, having hope; plus, faith.
   Bobby Rook was sitting on the mobile home's front steps, Spanky alongside his wiry form.  Bobby Rook looked so alone and lost, yet still tough as Christ's nails.  How to live she wondered, without being able to have normal sex and crapping bloody, loose stool on an almost perpetual basis?  Her heart beat love and mercy for the cool and mysterious man, him not seeming to really give a rat's ass about his serious medical condition, that much, just coping in chronic silence.
   She remembered reading about the Egyptian god Anubis in one of her science fiction novels, something she hadn't been doing lately; anyway, it said that Anubis, having a canine, jackal-like head would weigh the hearts of dead people--if your heart was lighter than a feather; next, you lived forever.  But if it was hard and heavy, the news from the god was not good.  She hoped she was lighthearted.  Too, she knew Bobby Rook's heart was still beating, and she liked that fact of life, for he was a pretty cool guy.

Liberty's Sparkle (70)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (70)"
   
   The luminosity of lovely Liberty and the metaphysical mystery of Bobby Rook lay in their bunk bed, him atop, reading pulp fiction; specifically, an urban fantasy tale popular with the kids of today, having an internal itch that something more than the mainstream media was affecting their spiritual vibrations; regardless, her on the bottom bunk, petting Spanky, but not heavily; anyway, the conversation ignited.

ROOK
So, you were married?

LIBERTY
You would've liked Tom.  Had OCD with Tics, like hyperactivity of the basal ganglia; next, it got cancerous, and all was gone, but he lives on, in Papa's Arms.

ROOK
I can dig it.  Catholic--like me.  Suffering--like me.  My ex-wife and son were my life, but when we'd wake up, she'd see all the blood on the bed and freak out; next, I lost my testicle.  And Wikipedia is full of shit.  People with Ulcerative Colitis do require blood transfusions--I've had two.  

LIBERTY
Does it hurt?

ROOK
Like someone stabbing me in the right side of my abdomen.  And painkillers are hated by the government.  Was on opiates for two years, never abused, never chased the dragon, just wanted peace, not euphoria; still, assholes chase the high, and us in pain get screwed by a government ruled by an underground force.  And I never looked on the street for heroin or crap like that, just took Tylenol, and dealt with it.  

LIBERTY
Herb for the service of man said King David.

ROOK
Israel has like twenty strains of medical cannabis, knowing the truth.  But no one here gives a shit; anyway, it sucks to be sick.  Wish I was normal, could have a wife and child, work a job, and do the bullshit American thing.  People called me a pillhead, all types of bullying and shit.  Totally screw them.  Karma comes back.  God will haunt those assholes in hell, not that I want that, for I believe in the Son of Man, Christ, not the Son of a reptilian, but truly, the Son of Man, like Ezekiel knew when he saw the Four Living Creatures with many facial features.

LIBERTY
So you are truly Catholic, Rook?

ROOK
I honor the angels and saints.  Of course that makes me Catholic.  Martin Luther got rid of invocation to beauty, and look at Protestantism--splintering into a myriad of differences.  Calvin was no Aquinas.  Tebow is the only Protestant I trust.

LIBERTY
Amen.  Played like nine NFL games, started as Quarterback that is, and won seven.  Lost to the Patriots after butt-whooping the Steelers in the play-offs.  People don't want God--they want money.

ROOK
Hell, it's America.  The dollar is God.  

Strawberry Moon: June 20, 2016

    
   "Strawberry Moon:  June 20, 2016"
   
   The Full Moon will glow with effulgent sparkle and strength tonight.  In America, it is known as the Strawberry Moon since the Algonquin Tribes pictured it as a time to gather the special fruit--back then, the strawberry harvest being short and widely revered.
   In Europe, it is known as the Rose Moon, a popular time for couples to engage in wedlock.  
   Regardless, the mystical underground assumes werewolves less aggressive, even the purely nefarious lycanthropes, for the strawberry fairies are out in grand abundance, and fairies can enchant, or even doom, if not respected and revered--so goes the myth of it all; furthermore, the only mythical thing about the word MYTH is that it is MYTH--get me?  
   Some have eyes to see and ears to hear; on the flip side, whispers in the darkness can cause lack of faith and cruel judgement.  We have forgotten God, and now, He might trumpet:  "My creation, My creation, why hast thou forsaken Me!"  Yet when King David and Christ uttered these types of words, people still believed, their pineal glands not calcified and hazed to stupefaction by electronic devices and unhealthy diets.  
   So goes the Strawberry Full Moon of June!    

Liberty's Sparkle (69)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (69)"
   
   Liberty and the sickly Bobby Rook found a nice mobile home community near Whitefish.  It was mainly a ski resort location in Montana, housing around 7,000 people.  Their place was more than modest, having a taste of Franciscan humility, and the first thing Bobby Rook did was hang a crucifix on the wall; next, the twosome got a futon, a bunk bed, and a black and white television; plus, a transistor radio, and a little fridge.
   The food was mostly in cans.  Liberty thought:  "My gosh, I can't get away from cans."
   So, she loaded up on Ramen Noodles, and of course--dog food for Spanky; also, plenty of bottled water and green tea to mix it with.  Liberty slept on the bottom bunk with Spanky, while Bobby Rook tossed and turned above with unearthly abdominal pain at night, sometimes begging for death, or like Spider-Man, having great agility at jumping off and running to the bathroom, where he would evacuate bloody stool.  He didn't know how much longer before they gutted him.  
   Liberty helped him find a Doc, and they afforded some medicine that helped, slightly.
   All in all--it was home.  Liberty finding another grocery store to work at, and yes, more cans, stocking the shelves in a perpetual state of tedious boredom:  baked beans, baked beans with savory Texas flavor, baked beans with pork, baked beans in hickory smoke flavoring, baked beans with crispy bacon.
   Unfortunately, Bobby Rook couldn't eat beans, for they cut through his colon like a chainsaw; otherwise, like the coyote being hunted relentlessly, they were surviving.  

Liberty's Sparkle (68)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (68)"
   
   Bobby Rook's bafflement further pressing upon his diseased body, offering cerebral confusion; next, Liberty, like a holy angel, stepped out of the tent, Spanky next to her, yawing saliva; then, finding an energy-granting tree, and lifting his territorial leg.  Anyway, Liberty's bare feet crunched over the Earth's surface till upon Bobby Rook, and as if telepathically reading his mind, she put a loving grip upon his wiry shoulder, saying:  "God is not the author of confusion."
   Bobby Rook stood up, slowly, having great pains in his gut; specifically, the lower right side of his abdomen; nevertheless, he got his corporeal counterpoise, and standing straight, looked upon Liberty's enchanted-green eyes lit by the Moon, stating:  "You really do have a gift."
   Liberty back with:  "I wish it would grant me some money." 
   Bobby Rook saying:  "But you have enough; plus, so much more."
   Liberty replied:  "It's just nice to have TRUE friends."
   Bobby Rook smiled, gently; next, Spanky joined the twosome in their caring and affectionate embrace.  

Liberty's Sparkle (67)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (67)"
    
   Saint Raphael, the physician of God, had departed from the mysterious Bobby Rook; however, the Arch-Angel took his prayers to the Father, Saint Raphael being One of the Divine Seven Who stand before the Throne of Him; regardless, Bobby Rook was made holy steel, like the monks before him, having the Iron Grip; plus, the Dim Mak of retaliation against the furious foes of injustice.
   But Bobby Rook wouldn't use it, turning his cheek, yet rebuking his brother, him not certified concerning being obedient to adhering towards the holy reins of God testing the righteous, yet Bobby Rook did, letting his master dominate his smooth couthness, as it is suggested.
   And that big neon glitter above the sacred camping ground, not being Spinoza-like Pantheism, or the bullshit of being a photon floating forever, yet a healed soul, saved from the scar of reptilian torture, so divine, so divine.
   All Bobby Rook knew was that Liberty was an allegorical Buffy the Vampire Slayer, freeing the demons from man, doing the just justice, and allowing him the jocularity of giving her an eternal grin towards the Face of Heaven, and a Holy King, His Feet positioned upon Terra's enchanted yet evacuated dream of angels and demons, having peace.  

Ronald Regan tells UN that aliens are among us ufo united nations

Liberty's Sparkle (66) PSALM 7

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (66)  PSALM 7"   
   
   PSALM 7:9-12 (KJV)
  
9)  Oh let the wickedness of the wicked come to an end; but establish the just:  for the righteous God trieth the hearts and reins.
10)  My defence is of God, which saveth the upright in heart.
11)  God judgeth the righteous, and God is angry with the wicked every day.
12)  If he turn not, he will whet his sword; he hath bent his bow, and made it ready.  

* * * *

   Bobby Rook, waaaay out in the Montana grasslands, on sacred camping ground, while Liberty snoozed sublimity, fell to his knees before the waxing Moon that God did so elegantly craft.  There, upon the purpose of Terra, knowing his was a time of trial, reached into his pocket for his bloodstone, the warrior's stone--Christ's blood dripping on the jasper of it all; next, Mr. Rook invoked Saint Raphael, the physician of God, having a sense of humor and love of dogs.
   There, Bobby Rook begged the Arch-Angel to pray for him.  To heal his broken heart and severed scrotum; plus, to forge his large intestine strong and mighty; regardless, while death was upon him, he turneth not away from God, yet praised the glory and power of it all--even if it killed him, knowing his last deeds would be in assisting sweet Liberty in carrying her cross of poverty.  And then he heard, or did he, Saint Raphael joke:  "At least she'll get a real kick out of you."
   Bobby Rook smiled in his anguish, replying:  "Amen."   

Liberty's Sparkle (65)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (65)"
   
Liberty had loved Tom with all her shimmering sparkle;
Still, she knew his eternal love desired her to at life:  revere and marvel;
Thus, she sold the mobile home for hardly any money,
And Bobby Rook did the same, knowing Liberty's honesty was as golden as honey;
Hence, the twosome, with Spanky along,
Took the hybrid Westwards, towards Montana's song--
There (The Last Best Place) lurked the Flathead Lake Monster, like urban legend cake;
Plus, the Phantom Hitchhiker of Black Horse Lake;
Moreover, they would purchase another mobile home in a state's economy ruled by agriculture,
And live a life of Platonic love, adoring the Holy Mother;
Also, have a sense of uncanny keen concerning things bizarre;
Indeed, it had already taken Liberty's freedom so weirdly far.  

Liberty's Sparkle (64)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (64)"
   
   Liberty immediately removed the dangling death of the noose, triumphantly tossing it in a wicker trash basket nearby, blurting:  "You won't be needing that, Rook."
   Bobby Rook eyed her with a soft grin, stood up, sauntered his way right up to her glowing face, grabbed her head, gently, from behind, feeling her long, golden ponytail, glared deeply and mysteriously into her glowing-green eyes, probing:  "What are we?"
   Liberty didn't back away, ingesting his soft, chocolate brown eyes, feeling the sorrow and lack of hope; next, she leaned in and kissed his full lips, mouth open just a bit, feeling his minty fresh air; then, she unlocked her lips, stepped back, and said:  "I don't know yet.  But it's like you're my brother or something.  Two hopeless souls meant to have no sibling rivalry, but a sweet, sophisticated synergy that sparks flames of faith divine."
   "That makes no sense."  Bobby Rook offered.
   Liberty was like all Valley Girl:  "Duh, only death makes sense.  So, we shall solve the mystery of life."
   Bobby Rook with:  "Which is?"
   Liberty professed:  "Loving everything, and driving the doom out of every soul."
   Bobby Rook back with:  "Bernie will probably lose, and Hillary has had a mortal head wound America has forgotten about, as well as the mention of it in Saint John's Book of Revelation."
   Liberty was like:  "Then we go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer, ya know."
   "I like that.  I like it plenty."  Bobby Rook grinning at his spiritual sister.  

Liberty's Sparkle (63)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (63)"
    
   Liberty got bold.  Used that look of a blonde angel, piloting the hybrid with four cylinder fury, hoping it didn't burn out the batteries and all; regardless, she wanted to see Bobby Rook.  The twosome had exchanged phone numbers, and after a series of text messages, he offered his address, very nearby--in a trailer park as well--she figured:  white trash neighbors.
   Still, his poverty and illness didn't matter; she was drawn to him as an altruistic fairy to the blue power of the furious flame.  Thus, she passed by barking dogs, and dudes that looked like Larry the Cable Guy drinking Bud Heavy; next, parked in front of Bobby Rook's trailer, Old Glory's fabric hanging in his window, making him seem all the more cheap yet armed with a patriotic spirit.
   Checking her makeup in the rear-view mirror, just lip gloss really, hair pulled back in a lime-green ponytail holder, and a windbreaker of white to match her faded jeans and neon curious sneakers, she then marched to his door, knocked, heard a vociferous statement to enter, and did so, seeing a modest habitat meticulously clean, no dust bunnies or clutter, yet what caught her eye the best, besides the mysteriously attractive Bobby Rook sitting in a cherry wood chair, rubbing his lean hand over the stubble of his buzz cut, well, it was the noose--the freaking noose dangling downwards, painting an astonished look upon her angelic countenance.
   Rook got the telepathic message, responding:  "It's just in case of an emergency--if things get real nasty for me, like disease."
   Liberty focused, got cool, became the Iceman, letting it slide right off; next, blurted:  "Rook, we gotta talk brother!"  

Liberty's Sparkle (62)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (62)"
  
   Like mystical stardust, the conversation was forever, going this way now:
  
LIBERTY
Bobby Rook, right?  The Monsignor let me know.

ROOK
Yeah, I only move in a straight line, though vertically or horizontally; plus, hopefully bring some light into the darkness.  Metaphysical talk, ya know?

LIBERTY
My name is Liberty.  I lost my father and my husband to bad circumstance; plus, my best friend to holy intervention.

ROOK
Lost my right testicle.  Got Ulcerative Colitis; next, lost half the blood in my body--the wife left and took my son.  Anyway, I evacuate my bowels plenty--so I'm not full of crap like my half-brother.  He used to clog the commode all the time when we were kids with huge piles of stool.

LIBERTY
You're weird.  But, very interesting.  I guess that's why we're all here today--to listen, learn, and cope, using the fellowship of grief as a thing to heal.

ROOK
You have piercing eyes.

LIBERTY
A small blush, yet a true blush nevertheless.  I like your hair.  Buzz cuts sometimes mean a very clean man.

ROOK
Or a white supremacist, which of course--I'm not.

LIBERTY
Laughed.   Your eyes have too much sorrow to conceal any hate.

ROOK
Thanks.  That's the coolest thing a chick has said to me in ages.      

Liberty's Sparkle (61)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (61)"
   
   The suave and handsome Monsignor reached out to Liberty as Faye had anchored herself away unto the City of God's Keel in a Divine Harbor of Safety.
   The Roman Collar-wearing Monsignor got Liberty into a Catholic group, after Sunday Mass, for people coping with tragedy.  Liberty was a bit phobic at first, giving off her glimmer of freedom, yet still on a leash, of sorts.  Then, she saw a thin but scrappy-looking guy, dark buzz cut, early thirties with a tough squint in his chocolate brown eyes.  And she wondered.
   The Monsignor, like a detective:  noticing what others miss, sauntered up to young Liberty, tapped her on the shoulder, and she swung her golden-blonde around, her forest-green eyes focusing upon the countenance of the holy man.  And he told her:  "That's Bobby Rook.  Had a testicle removed due to cancer, and his wife took his son and left him.  But he's one tough son of a holy bitch.  Reach out to him Liberty; he is a lost soul; nevertheless, as free as you are, my dear."
   Liberty nodded, and made a styled catwalk towards the guy named Bobby Rook.  

Liberty's Sparkle (60)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (60)"
   
Liberty did loudly bibble,
Knowing:  nudiustertian was 2day since Faye birthed a mystic riddle;
However, so sublime, so sublime,
Having a holy, apolaustic rhyme,
Praising poverty and chastity during incarnation, always in holy verse,
Which trumps riding in the back of a well-earned hearse,
Unless into Papa's Arms do the lovely angels carry,
Smacking the reptilian black into a light so very
Platinum-white and laced with joyful noise;
Hence, Liberty burped her eggs and regenerated her purpose and eternal poise.   

Liberty's Sparkle (59)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (59)"
   
   Spooky Halloween had arrived, Liberty perpetually flooded in canned foods, stuck in the Purgatory of the canned vegetable aisle, and Faye was singing more often:  "Holy, Holy, Holy Lord!"
   The once heavily, and in the face, pierced Goth girl, born again by Liberty's sparkle and the super-symmetrical script of God, came to visit the trailer park, informing her best friend how she was joining a Sisterhood of Carmelites as a novitiate, sailing away immediately, the handsome Monsignor assisting her holy purpose.
   Liberty was crushed as she watched Faye drive away, perhaps for the final time, leaving her and Spanky even more isolated and alone.
   Was it her freakish fate to lose and suffer all the time?  To give off a golden glow sucked into others but receive none herself?  The heart always takes blood for itself first; next, offers it to the other organs.  But Liberty couldn't do that.  Christ couldn't do that.  It was a Divine Will that forced her into giving everything to all those around, taking nothing for herself but agony and a crushing passion, marching closer to Calvary, metaphorically, but so real, and nobody gave a damn save the unseen.
   Liberty started carving the orange pumpkin she had purchased, without a discount, from her grocery store.  She made a smiling face and placed a candle inside, Spanky sniffing the oncoming traffic of trailer park children getting yummy candy purchased by Liberty's last few dollars.  Like a mother, especially a holy mother, not wickedly told she is enabling, but loving her special son as did the most famous mom in mystical, historical records--Liberty gave her last dollar away, always.  

Liberty's Sparkle (58) HUBRIS SYNDROME

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (58)"  HUBRIS SYNDROME
   
   Liberty was now stocking the modest grocery store shelves with beets:  sliced beets, whole beets, garden beets, golden beets, organic beets; regardless, healthy for Scorpios, so lore does hint towards the totality of truth; next, the Monsignor walked by Liberty, looked down with his Rock Hudson countenance, saying:  "Working hard young Liberty?"
   She blew her golden strands out of her forest-green eyes, getting a better glimpse, from the daze of tedious employment, robbing her of imagination, but she knew him, and his bizarre benevolence, responding:  "Yes Monsignor."
   "Your friend Faye has been coming to Mass, much more than you, giving me face to face Confession, spilling the beans on all the nasty and nefarious figures in your life.  The ones having contempt for the downtrodden and weak, wishing Darwin was axiomatically true, which he totally isn't.  Anyway, don't be afraid of these people.  God can be your right hand as King David did sweetly Psalm.  Anyway, these people have a Hubris Syndrome.  Or are just rotten to their scummy, reptilian cores.  Have no fear."  Then, the Monsignor departed down the aisle, Liberty feeling a sense of insight into the wickedness of man, so controlled, so controlled, yet deaf and dumb to the reasons.   

Liberty's Sparkle (57)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (57)"
   
   Liberty blew back into the autumn breeze, away, yet so simply connected to the relativity of the past, remembering Bobby Kennedy somewhere, kinda/sorta mumbling:  "A society gets the criminals it deserves."
   And remembering the hatred of many modern Christians believing the gays evil, yet Pope Francis saying of their sublime numbers:  "Who am I to judge."  Not asking, stating.  And now--who to blame?  A government conspiracy to tie the hate of Islam with radical Christians.  What is it all?
   Liberty back to stocking the grocery store shelves:  sliced carrots, baby peeled carrots, whole carrots, organic carrots, and always--peaches in extra heavy syrup not far away.
   Would the Son of Man ever come down from the clouds of heaven?  She started praying, everyday, that it would happen soon.  

Liberty's Sparkle (56)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (56)"
  
   Liberty and Faye heard the news; plus, Spanky, as if a Pineal Gland knowing; thus, dropping his canine head, and in a pulsating state of quivering--all from a transistor radio, at least 50 dead in an Orlando nightclub.  Both girls (young ladies) immediately lit up, inhaling the revenge, to some, of Redman.

LIBERTY
The world is getting really nasty.

FAYE
Christ is even the Apostle, and Mary is great.  Islam means "submission" in English.  These people are not submitting to a merciful, loving God.  "The Bees" Surah, 16:19, basically says you cannot conceal from God.  Totally, He knows and is the Truth.

LIBERTY
I'm all for being progressive, but aren't you pissed to the max?  This is bullshit.  We should do something, like have a mystical nerd explain to the terrorists the sublimity and love of God.

FAYE
But you're forgetting the bad guy.  The once lovely light of the main fallen angel, his followers, hacking into our brains and controlling our lusts and corporeal aspects to migrate hellways.

LIBERTY
I'm sorry Faye for not being nice right now, but everything seems like bullshit.  What does man's opinion matter anyway.  Love God.  Love Freedom.  Every-freaking-body!
  
FAYE
Amen.  Never sacrifice liberty for security.  Let a man carry like Dirty Harry.  

Liberty's Sparkle (55)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (55)"
   
   The luminosity of Liberty and the frequently freaky Faye were still upon the chaise lounges, like an illiterate Prophet, waiting divinely for an Arch-Angel to wisely expound the hungered-after cuisine of literacy and introspective, mystical insight; moreover, the effulgent groove of a star-beaming slice of neon cheese did look down upon Terra's infamy; specifically, a Full Moon, making the girls (young ladies) crave the toxic injections of weird shit into long stretched pieces of teriyaki beef jerky. 
   Faye complained; specifically, she confessed:  "No rich man will ever love a freak like me."
   Liberty shot back, not to doom, nor to illuminate, yet to also confess her own Universe amid the Multiverse of other people serving and carrying a True Cross, saying:  "I can't give a man a baby; thus, I'm screwed, but not for the longevity of love."
   Faye was like:  "You're a hot blonde with mystical-green eyes--you'll get romanced."
   Liberty completed:  "Screw anything but True Love.  May an angel, only that I can see, covering his eyes with a part of his six wings to not view the Awesomeness of God, like Isaiah mentions concerning a hot coal and a scalding mouth, humbled by the humility of Seraphs--may that magnanimous creature love me."   
   

Kenny Chesney - Noise

Liberty's Sparkle (54)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (54)"
   
   Faye met Liberty and the sublime terrier Spanky at the mobile home.  There, outside on chaise lounges, Spanky sniffing around for high adventure, Faye opened her picnic basket, offering fine flour bread with non-angry turkey meat; plus, avocado and organic mayo; also, a splash of sea salt and pepper for protection and brain stimulation were added.  They munched down; next, the conversation ignited.
  
FAYE
You hear from Wanda?

LIBERTY
Giggled.  Yeah, right.

FAYE
Probably a calcified Pineal Gland, ya know.  All that suburban food, over processed, which leads to lack of empathy; plus, jealousy and envy--a true hatred of things divine.  The Third Eye, like Tesla drinking special water, and John Adams, a bit of a snob, though even he owned a copy of Paine's Common Sense, him being brought over by Franklin's wisdom during his alcoholic thirties.  Truly, without the quill of Paine, the sword of Washington would never have swung; regardless, President Adams did get his apple a day in; specifically, apple cider vinegar, or hard cider. 

LIBERTY
Oh well.  I really enjoyed Canada.  Miss Tom.  And I'm blessed to have a best friend not out to get me.

FAYE
Gotta believe--like with Axl Rose's autobiographical song Out To Get Me.  Of course, they never caught him, not in his youth.  But kids today, and love of big bums.

LIBERTY
Bums?  Like kinda Kerouac some might say?

FAYE
No silly.  Big asses.  It's all the freaking rage.  The world be weird.  Why do people applaud that which offers shit?  Calcified Pineal Glands, or the crystals therein, hacked into by insidious forces.  

Liberty's Sparkle (53)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (53)"
   
   Liberty was back stocking shelves at the local grocery store.  Not a fancy place with tons of organic foods or anything--she observed her tedious labor for a moment:  french style green beans, garden cut green beans, Italian green beans, greens beans with bacon gravy, and yup--organic green beans; as a result of this theophany, possibly her life wasn't so poorly pathetic after all; next, her text message alert went off, a boast of Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries.  It was from Faye; moreover, said:
   
   Holy Fire!  If they only offered neuroimaging to crazy people before putting them into the cruelty of American Incarceration, they could axiomatically prove these people are mentally ill.  Too, don't get me started on probably 30% of women giving birth to another's man baby, besides their supposed partner; then, no DNA test, and that dude is royally screwed, paying child support, when those aren't his children.  Anyway, being a waitress sucks.  But some dude left me a two dollar bill today.  I'm gonna save it.  Miss ya.  2, see ya tomorrow--I'm bringing over some turkey and avocado sandwiches with plenty of mayo.  Luv, Faye
  
  

Liberty's Sparkle (52)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (52)"
   
   Luminous Liberty, fabulous Faye, and Snoopy-like Spanky were back across the border, exiting Canada, Faye blowing a kiss goodbye; next, Liberty driving the duration and distance back to Faye's apartment, where she dropped the newly founded Goth girl off; then, Liberty and Spanky, as co-pilot, piloted the hybrid back to their mobile home out in the bucolic grasslands, of sorts.
   Liberty, tired and a bit sincerely lethargic, yet still glowing with golden girl status, exited her vehicle, Spanky at her tennis shoe heels, and upon unlocking the door and entering, the smell of roses, like benevolent fairies or perhaps a Virgin Queen had visited, reminding that Tom was in Papa's Arms, and all was well on the flip side.  Liberty, not one to need the physician Christ; regardless, got down on her knees, Spanky sitting obediently beside her, and the girl named after freedom gave thanks to a Good God, having divine reverie concerning the living memory of Tom that still remained, and would always consciously haunt her into being a patron for the impoverished and weak, yet so strong herself, only displaying this strong, stamina-like beast to the concern of Almighty God Himself.  

Liberty's Sparkle (51)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (51)"
   
   Faye awoke with a modest hangover, Spanky's licks bringing her to a state of recognizable cognizance, remembering she was in Canada, and that she had puked a bucket of foam hours earlier. 
   The luminous daystar was rising, and Liberty rose as well, helping Faye out of the tent, Spanky running to the hybrid and lifting his leg to offer the inflated rubber a sense of ownership.
   After both girls yawned and stretched, Faye was like:  "My dreams last night, the Virgin Mary, my new and true Gothic obsessions.  How guilty I feel for putting Her Son through the tortures of Calvary.  And ya know--She is mentioned in Genesis, hinted at in Isaiah, and even the 19th Surah in the Koran, Maryam, acknowledges Her.  It's like the Torah; next, the New Testament; then, the Koran, a Trinity of Abrahamic devotion to the God of the Multiverse."
   Liberty needed some coffee, but spoke:  "Philip K. Dick said the Torah was offered to all people, but they all turned it down because thou shalt not do this; thou shalt not do that--there was no fun in it.  However, a group of slaves in Egypt accepted it; next, God was like . . ."
   Faye projected:  "Let my people go."
   "Why do the Abrahamic religions fight, when there is so much in common?  God knows everything Christ said;  thus, He gave us the LORD'S PRAYER, and Gabriel in the Koran saying the same thing, telling that like a watcher on the Internet, God knows everything, but more, and submission to Him, having a benevolent mind is the key.  God, Christ--the Author of Life.  Like we're a book being written, or a video game played.  The Bible and theoretical physics."  Liberty blabbered.  
   Faye like, grabbing her head:  "I think I'm gonna lose my cookies again.  Damn Canadian beer." 
   Once again, she puked upon the campgrounds, lovely.  

Liberty's Sparkle (50)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (50)"
   
   Having forged temporary residence at a camping ground, and placing Spanky in a state of anchoring safety, Liberty and Faye went to a CFL game; specifically, watched the Hamilton Tiger-Cats toss the pigskin around, eating buttery popcorn, and throwing back some smooth lager.
   As the jubilation of the live action game faded into the eternal past, Liberty and Faye, drove slowly, as most people do in Canada, back to the campgrounds.  There, Spanky wagged his exuberance, offering luscious licks and love, while Faye complained about the price of tobacco in the Great White North. 
   They also split a six pack, star-gazing at the big neon glitter shimmering around an effulgent, waxing gibbous, so alive with Lunar possibilities, ready to be mined and feed Mother Earth.
   "Nothing is as it seems."  Faye buzzed to a serious point of introspection.  
   Liberty further probed:  "Mark Twain, now demonized in America, though Gabriel giving the literary gift of the Koran uses a similar word--people's ignorance, but God bless them; anyway, Twain was first published in Canada."
   "And your point?"  Faye grinning with intoxication.
   Liberty, following Faye's crusade into the depth of philosophy, quoted a piece of Twain's work in his Joan of Arc epic, stating:  "The common eye sees only the outside of things, and judges by that, but the seeing eye pierces through the heart and soul, finding there capacities which the outside didn't indicate or promise."
   Faye ruminated, deeply; next, puked a foamy liquid ounce of beer on the Canadian Earth, mumbling:  "Who freaking won the football game?"  

Liberty's Sparkle (49)

   
   "Liberty's Saprkle (49)"
   
   Money spent, life enjoyed--the more you have; next, the more freedom in life--the evils of capitalism, as might a Pontiff proclaim; regardless, passports gotten, and a pet allowance, Liberty, Faye, and Spanky were in the hybrid, wending their willful way through the Windsor Tunnel from Michigan to Ontario.
   Faye blasted:  "I hope Justin Trudeau finds me and falls in love with me.  Michelle Obama even has a crush on him, and some people say she is really a man."
   Liberty reminded:  "Remember--it's all relative.  We really don't know shit in this world.  Our own Universe we are, amid the Multiverse of all the souls and bullshit around us."
   Faye replied:  "I know.  Physics and religion, yet Sheldon Cooper is too proud to shake hands with Aquinas, and it's all a psychological condition.  Blah, blah, blah.  We should talk about lightweight stuff."
   Liberty snorted:  "You mean like DC movies not comparing to Marvel?"
   Faye content, igniting a cancerous cherry to life:  "Now you're talking.  Batman is a real ego driven pussy.  Come on now--Captain America is fine as shit--the golden boy we are all jealous of."
   Liberty laughed so hard, she almost shit a Twinkie.  

Liberty's Sparkle (48)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (48)"
   
   Liberty sweetly petting Spanky outside in the oncoming autumn air, Faye, a coffin nail between her China doll lips, puffing her prayers to Grandfather, and saying:  "Shit Liberty--the world be weird with the infinite.  Everything is limitless, but not.  Blake and Wilde pondering if the microscope saw more than the telescope, into the truth of humanity and all."
   Liberty giggling:  "You have become the library nerd, and I haven't read any Philip K. Dick in months.  But I know you Faye, and your new philosophies and idealism--what are you trying to say?"
   Faye with:  "I have two older sisters.  Both too old to be molested by the time Daddy got his freak on with me; anyway, one is filthy rich, but looks like a fish.  The other, a blue collar, though better than me economically, well, she's like you--freaking gorgeous.  Just because she had a strong face my rich sister was always so envious and jealous.  Her money will never give her that glowing countenance, and she hates my sister for it.  Like somebody who wants to sing, and does it great; next, a person can't sing; then, they want the brilliant singer to get throat cancer--that's the psychology of mankind."
   Liberty said:  "That's why we have dogs.  Man's best friends.  They teach us love and loyalty--no matter how much an asymmetrical mutt."
   Faye blurted, and with an exhale of toxicity:  "Yup."  

Liberty's Sparkle (47)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (47)"
    
   Through the meditation, which continued in a very, highly ultra state of progressiveness, Faye commanded:  "A grudge will always hold you down at the end; LOVE comes back to you in ACES."
   Liberty thought it--real hard; next, blurted:  "You know Bram Stoker?"
   Faye was like:  "Girl, I'm the library nerd now--of course."
   Liberty continued on with:  "Lore suggests, or possibly truth, or possibly both--there is always an infinite number of possibilities; anyway, Bram Stoker, so it goes, felt great guilt after writing Dracula."
   "I feel guilt now too.  Especially when I see a hot man and wish he was my husband.  But I'm so used, like a bad car, maybe one of those Gremlins from the 1970's or 1980's."  Faye said.
   Liberty:  "Ah, shut up.  You're a freaking angel with black wings.  Merlin with a demon parent, yet you choose the path divine.  I love you girlfriend."
   And Faye responded:  "You make us all sweet, Liberty, and it is awesome.  Merci beaucoup, forever."  

Liberty's Sparkle (46)

   
   "Liberty's Saprkle (46)"
   
   Flamboyant Faye, yet so chilled and armed with mild mannered meek nowadays, was teaching Liberty how to meditate, as Faye was the one reading now, Liberty slumming about, Spanky in stride with her weak steps through the shallow mobile home.  And Faye commanded, sitting Indian Style, as we called it in the 1970's, not Hindu style, in positions of service to foreign gods--nothing more calming than sweetly speaking to the Abrahamic God, the One forging the Multiverse, always hanging on to existence--there was never nothing, only Him, willing Life.  
   Regardless, an allowance of the lesser gods, a celestial hierarchy, and a natural Pantheism that doesn't give a shit about humanity--it is what is is, right?
   So, Faye was commanding:  "Liberty is not wormwood!"
   Liberty responded:  "I am not wormwood!"
   Spanky growled at the negative spirits; Faye grinned, so did Liberty.
   Faye further with:  "I will go to Canada and make a sexy man fall in love with me, unless Bernie saves America."
   Liberty snorted a giggle, and a booger too.  

Liberty's Sparkle (45)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (45)"

   Faye continued to console Liberty within the impoverished confines of the mobile home, Spanky alert and cognizant, always paying attention with a crystal forged gland within his canine brain that offered sublime telepathy, of sorts.  Liberty on the futon, drinking a beer, and Faye, smoking an organic tobacco product to ease her stress.  
  
FAYE
I was dating this cop--can you believe it?  And he arrested this dude for seeing aliens.  I asked him, what were they--greys, reptilians, or the magnanimous Nordics?  Cop dude didn't know.  Just said it was a psychiatric issue.  Manufactured education, huh?

LIBERTY
I don't know.  Tears in Liberty's eyes.  I can't have a baby, and my husband is dead, but really alive, in Christ.

FAYE
We should get outta here.  Take the Windsor Tunnel and hit Ontario.  I have a crush on Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.  Did you know Kerouac was French Canadian?  Was on the Steve Allen Show, back in the day.  Allen asked him how long he was on the road--Kerouac responded it was 7 years, but it only took him a week or so to write On The Road.

LIBERTY
He had a dextroamphetamine inhaler.  That was the mercurial magic.

FAYE
What if it was automatic writing?

LIBERTY
I dunno.  Spirits commanding text.  Maybe.  What's your point?

FAYE
We need to leave this shithole.

LIBERTY
We have no money; moreover, in debt.

FAYE
Screw the Americans.  Canada.  Like Chief boldly stated in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest.

LIBERTY
I'm too sad for adventure.

FAYE
Don't use the Force; specifically, force yourself.            

Liberty's Sparkle (44)

   "Liberty's Sparkle (44)"
   
   Liberty was in cell phone communication with the Rock Hudson-looking Monsignor, of course, not out of lust, for she was Liberty, yet to tame the shrew of pain and neglect.  The conversation was like unto a thing of iron, giving energy, holding the blood, the life, and thus:  mystical.
  
LIBERTY
We had to cremate him.  And my best friend Faye said this was an insult to the Hebrew people--is that correct?

MONSIGNOR
Reason:  poverty--you had no choice; furthermore, Virgin, Queen of poverty, pray for us.  The Disciples basically laughed at a woman giving barely any money at the Temple, yet Christ scolded them, saying:  "And He said, of a truth I say unto you, that this poor widow hath cast in more than they all."

LIBERTY
So, I'm not a really, really bad person?

MONSIGNOR
You did what you could, and you should be blessed due to your singular circumstance; Christ further knowing and speaking:  "No man can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to one, and despise the other.  Ye cannot serve God and mammon."

LIBERTY
I'm very well read, but the Bible was never my thing.  Science fiction, poetry--stuff like that.

MONSIGNOR
Here's some Shakespeare from A Midsummer's Night Dream:  "The old moon wanes!  She lingers my desires, like to a stepdame or a dowager withering out a young man's revenue."

LIBERTY
You speak in riddles.

MONSIGNOR
Hell, Christ spoke in parables.  Just hold your chin up Liberty.  Like I told you, sparkle.  Tom is not dead, but alive in Christ.  And as for what you confessed to me previously about his nefarious sister, well, Tom is so sublime, he'll even pray for her in hell, where she will be eternally stupefied.

LIBERTY
But what about real life?

MONSIGNOR
Life is an illusion, but death my dear--death is as real as it gets.