Good Friday, and pseudo-family

 
   "Good Friday, and pseudo-family"
  
   He died for YOU--not for me, but he did--are you picking up what I'm putting down?
   And quasi-caretakers that drop them in the shower, flip them over in their chairs; plus, sleep for three hours during six hour shifts; moreover, talk with profane vulgarities on their cell phones in front of a hallucinating Lewy Body-deserved woman of compassion; indeed, rebuke the fiend; moreover, give the suffering love, and they will fully see love; on the contrary, give them obnoxious and noxious noise like:  "Motherfucker!  Motherfucker!"  And they will see an adversary attempting to further cage their hellish hysteria with contaminated contagion. 
   They have mundane lives.  Have college porn girls in their closet.  Ask you for pain pills, when you don't chase the dragon, but take, compulsively, as directed.  And they break the true Law, offering false testimony, denying Shakespeare's knowledge of a stepdame making you pay for inheritance, when you are sick and weak, bleeding a bloody river, purifying every purchase with hand sanitizer, as you have to inject yourself with medication that is the ruination of lung capacity; plus, infused by Remicade for years, transcending Wikipedia, and needing an ichor transfusion for Ulcerative Colitis, pooping anguished gore on the Social Phobia of newspaper; indeed, Obsessive Social Phobia makes you, in their minds, a fanatical freak.  And you drink a beer; moreover, smoke a cigarette for cool solace and they label you an addict, while their biological systems functions without purgation, them never knwoing illumination, but cursing you away from your deserved union, not understanding:  P + I = U, as Saint John of the Cross blindly forged the first theological equation.  
   Screw their denial, as Christ turned his head from the rich man, and a crossed brethren suffering, only giving it to those that would willingly receive, for the salacious slime are tapped into by pride, arrogance, and false testimony--their proud positions are a loveless life, granting them favor from phony law, but Jesus is big brother, seeing into the locked doors and closed curtains, knowing your intentions in private, beyond the supposed hijack of Russia's spies.
   I take care of her.  I have footage.  You live an approximate 8 miles away and want her caged, while she bravely endures hallucinations, needing the sweet solace of smooth talk, the perpetual preaching of good news and cool consolation, but a McDonald's milkshake is all you can offer, attempting to make a Judas, yet we love you, and pray for you to see the light, even if it is a gentle Godsmack from a living statue of sublimity.
   Who is the curious and crazy?--Those that seek help, or those that hide porn, addiction, betrayal, and a hatred for America if it doesn't vote your way.  Support whatever King, and make America great again; otherwise, you sow confusion and belligerent betrayal against the poor in spirit, needing the mercy of the merciful, and the meekness of an Earth inheriting calm rotation.
   We are not off our meds; specifically, you need some monstrous meds, before the shinobi stabs further in the back, not facing a samurai face to face, as honor is dictated by the joyously jovial and just.   

Grackle Nation (6)

   "Grackle Nation (6)"

   Good Friday.  Not for them.  But for you--you and you alone--beyond the supposedly awesome atomic consciousness!!!  Don't feel the sorrow; feel the love!!!
   Slim Jim Grackle wondered as the sinister straw was inserted into the inviolate uterus.  A 7 month year old baby fighting for its life.  The straw-like object attempts to suck the baby's brain out, yet the baby dodges, to the left; next, to the right; however, the straw-like object pierces the baby's hopeful chance.  Was not Merlin half demon and half man?  Yet he was allowed to live, and admitted the luminous Life.  If you do not admit Me; then, I will not admit you.
   Like Chess Pieces, it has all been arranged against you; on the contrary, belief in the Book of Life ignites existence beyond the honeycomb of being hornswoggled, for it is written by God--the Law, and Christ kicks it up a notch, telling you to spread it, forging a disciple of your own, for He is the Vine, and you become the branches, if you drink His non-symbolic blood, and eat of His non-symbolic body, giving the bow finger to Jung and his megalomaniac monster, knowing allegory is saved for those blinded by the Light, like a white snowflake, unable to perceive an ocean of melted frost birthing forever fertility.  And the Virgin cries, but the Eagle preserves Her, him only being exiled afterwards, and penning that She is in us, as is He, and Magilla Gorilla is a mere militant, tamed by Heston, pooping in the forest, as Soylent Green infects without the bright glimmer of Saint Raphael loving a man that washes.  
   Slim Jim Grackle took a bath in the creek-water, Echo wagging and shaking off the negativity of less than Pert Plus, dancing off the Red Lobster and creepy crabs of a situation seduced by sin, loving the platinum perfect of Sunshine shimmer, like a Crown Chakra.    

Devo- Whip It Lyrics

Grackle Nation (5)

   
   "Grackle Nation (5)"
   
   Jack Soo from Barney Miller couldn't comprehend the moonlit werewolf, as he had no facial hair, being more highly evolved, resonating with a fabulous frequency as do the American Indians, being blood brothers with the Great Spirit--in a matter of speaking.  Harris, the cool, black dude--never ever bought off-the-rack, into the finer sophistication of James Joyce's dandyism, and was penning a novel while trying to solve crimes, like possibly, a cop distracted by the camouflage of the badge, not respecting its loyalty and fidelity towards the true justice of a Red Saint Uriel--in a matter of speaking.
   The true Law, outshines what is to be rendered to Caesar.  
   Regardless, Slim Jim Grackle would not resist the big mouths, the racket of dastardly devils needing Prozac the size of an enormous golf ball to be silent--them women with big and violent verbiage, though the Goddess is white and virginal, yet bitches dismiss Her stepping on the forked tongue, which tempts man like an Eve conquered by self-image, and nobody loves women more than Mark Twain and the Catholic Church--giving them the best HONOR, and yes, they made Joan of Arc a Phoenix, forever.  
   Slim Jim washed Echo, purifying his Northwest journey with the platinum pooch, as it would be, having Saint Raphael as a guide for that Fool Card, knowing a white dog and a wise/fool has all the traits of possessing true power, if they deny the racket and boast of a bodacious blessing that burns some fish.  I like catfish cooking on the slimy creek-water--sung by the bard of cool country circumstance.
   Don't listen to your cell phone.  Don't watch network news.  Put your feet on the grass--so beyond finding Pokemon and his freakish fibs, which unearths only radical robots with nefarious nanotechnology placed within during a debutante's dream-state.  
   Damn boy, Slim Jim Grackle put him in some mint chaw, got a beautiful buzz, and knew the path of light's excess leads to the palace of ultimate illumination.  Thus, get a dog, take the bus, color with crayons, and never wear your baseball hat backwards, unless you have the macho mustache and magnificent might of Mike Piazza. 

Grackle Nation (4)

   
   "Grackle Nation (4)"
    
   Slim Jim Grackle and Echo were hanging out, way cool, in the double wide, listening to the Green Hornet radio show on his transistor radio, as he had no television, knowing Bruce Lee used the power of water, and if you drink of Jesus' water; next, you will never be thirsty again.  It cleans, as Tobias knew, and his angel dog, and what is more pure than water, if made holy.
   Slim Jim didn't blame his ex-wife for leaving his lack of not living ON the grid, and allowing himself to get tapped into by the hood-sliding pineal love of Bo Duke, heck--even Boss Hog made him laugh, but don't throw pearls before swine, and so much of the swine have the pearls, as that is the way of confusion.
   Mr. Grackle had nothing but love for his ex-wife, lifting her up in his mind to know Jesus, gotta luv ya sum Jesus boy, and know Easter is always here in the hearts and minds of coyotes who prefer mice over a bunny's happy hop.  Slim Jim just wanted to love the nature of clean things, putting light into darkness, giving those in despair hope, and preach them not to be controlled by war, unless you're being bullied, which gives you permission to love yourself; then, smack the bully in the mouth with a teachable episode of Barney Miller.
   All should be loved, but thieved away, for the darkness is void; however, the light cometh, and the darkness comprehend it not.  Slim Jim Grackle loved on him some Echo; next, a handful of washed green grapes, followed by a little pinch of peach chaw.  

Grackle Nation (3)

   
   "Grackle Nation (3)"
   
   Slim Jim Grackle was in time with his relative time; specifically, the grackles had landed, and he pondered a pickle, weirdly reflecting upon Woodstock, not the depraved yet somewhat correct institution of peace, but the friend of a bird dog--Snoopy.
    Slim Jim's double-wide was getting a bit lonely, minus all the luminous light he had dancing around, but he needed a corporeal form of friendship, and what is more loyal and loving than a perky pooch; moreover, the shedding sublimity of a gregariously goofy Golden Retriever mixed with the curly cute of a paramount poodle, which would birth the super-synergy of a Goldendoodle; thus, with serendipity at his side, being service from his fabulous faith, Mr. Grackle smoothly stumbled upon just that breed at the pound, finding a female Goldendoodle dubbed Echo.
   So, after paying a small fee with with his grass-mowing money, Slim Jim Grackle strutted out of the pound with the elegant Echo at his united side, her walking joyously on a lime-green leash, almost dancing as she instinctively knew her new master to be a good old boy, much like Jimmy Carter, but not having that man's peanut-farming experience; still, Echo was in the highest of cotton candy, putting her head out of Slim's truck window, enjoying the rolled-down spring breeze, a tongue flapping as it was kissed by nature's cruise down the back roads--Slim being a bit like Andy Capp, always blindly taking the back roads, seeing not the technology of the day, but an eternal spirit in the nature within and without, all around, encompassing him, as he had invited many angels to drive beside his disco dance through a wonderful life of rebellion against the rebellion, adoring the way, truth, and LIGHT of loving the effulgent lantern known as luminosity.   

Bananarama - Cruel Summer (OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO)

Grackle Nation (2)

   
   "Grackle Nation (2)"
   
   Easter was on the RISE, and Slim Jim Grackle was praising Jesus, the wind beneath his multi-hued nimbus of super-reality.  Heck boy, he knew he wasn't psychotic, just vibrating on such a high level that Bigfoot was prone to pounce on him at any minute, but like them mountain men up in the Dakotas say:  "Hairy Man--hell boy--we gonna shoot that sum bitch."  And Lee Majors knows all too well about the inter-dimensional travels of Sasquatch. 
   So, as Balder's New, Good Green Earth approached with the RISE of Christ--fool me once, shame on you, but fool me twice, hell boy--I'm gonna eye for eye your ass.
   Moses was not bad.  Slim Jim loved him some Moses, and he never axed anyone a question, for his interrogative queries were much more distinguished--even though his last wife, Eve, said he didn't know the English Language, but he knew couth and all of its components, such as bright fairy love minus the murder.  Why do you think they ring a holy bell before the act of the Transubstantiation?
   Anyway, Slim Jim Grackle saw a female Cardinal with a touch of red, knowing Good Friday was approaching with the weight of the Four Winds.  Therefore, he blew out the metaphorical candles on his birthday cake, but showed respect to the wish, saving one, and extinguishing it with his palm.  

Grackle Nation (1)

   
   "Grackle Nation (1)"
   
   Slim Jim Grackle lived out yonder, in them Tennessee backwoods, haunted by Dollywood, and knowing specifically why it was dubbed such, having a bit of a brain, and a pecker head too.  He loved the Volunteers, and had a Peyton Manning pseudo-shrine at his double-wide trailer, though he knew Tom Brady was better, but he wouldn't admit it to himself.
   Slim Jim Grackle was a wiry Norwegian mix, his other Native relatives coming from Minnesota, before the Vikings conquered it back in the days of Eric the Red--something they don't teach you in public school, or so the ENQUIRER pointed out to him, way on back during his adolescent reverie.
   So, his hair was dark, his eyes a green/blue/gold/brown hue, was a wiry scrapper, not as tough as a sailor eating spinach, had negative blood, and voted for the residing Chief in the shimmering platinum palace.  He wasn't fond of his State's leadership, them having bounced a shifty frog, but still manhandled by a troll under the bridge of freedom, and if casino man would only kick out the pollution, the sincere pollution from the platinum palace; next, know his bloodline, well, in Slim Jim's mind, it would be a soft disclosure, and the chimps and lizards would go back in the cage--a few crickets too.
   Slim Jim was mowing lawns and dipping peach chaw; plus, liked a cold beer with sea salt, and any hot little number that wasn't brunette or artificially blonde.  Worse than encountering the unwanted surprise of a camouflaged tranny, is an artificial blonde--hell, in his mind, an artificial blonde is the biggest cheater, for she's not really dumb at all. 
   Too, Slim Jim Grackle liked to let it out and have his harmony, as every flying Grackle knows to do, being chirpy and chatting with the locals at the water tavern, where beer is for horses, and the ladies like to ride mustangs.  But don't get Mr. Grackle wrong.  He wouldn't play the flute for any floozy--she had to be well-groomed and love Jesus.  Hell, it's America!  Gotta love Jesus, watch football, drive a truck, and never, ever, ever, ever, wear a baseball hat backwards.  
   Pretty soon boy, we're gonna untangle Slim Jim Grackle's mystical yarn.  
   
    

Singing to a form of Phoenix

   "Singing to a form of Phoenix"

La Sainte Vierge, La Sainte Vierge--Je vous remercie . . .

La Sainte Vierge, La Sainte Vierge--Je vous remercie--

Je vous remercie--

Fly your Phoenix to my family--

Pere, Fils, et Saint-Esprit . . .

Novena to Archangel Gabriel

   
   "Novena to Archangel Gabriel"
   
St. Gabriel, you, who are known as the bearer of God's secrets meant especially for His chosen ones, we, God's children are constantly keeping watch on God's message.  Through your powerful intercession, may we receive God's words and messages, so that together with Mary, our Blessed Mother, we may also radiate God's love to others by our exemplary deeds.  O, St. Gabriel, obtain for us the grace and present to God the Father the following request (Here Mention Requests) through Jesus Christ our Lord together with the Holy Spirit forever and ever.  Amen.  

Prayer to Saint Raphael the Archangel

   
   "Prayer to Saint Raphael the Archangel"
  
Glorious Archangel Saint Raphael, great prince of the heavenly court, you are illustrious for your gifts of wisdom and grace.  You are a guide of those who journey by land or sea or air, consoler of the afflicted, and refuge of sinners.  I beg you, assist me in all my needs and in all the sufferings of this life, as once you helped the young Tobias on his travels.  Because you are the "physician of God," I humbly pray you to heal the many infirmities of my soul and the ills that afflict my body.  I especially ask of you the favor (mention your petition) and the great grace of purity to prepare me to be the temple of the Holy Spirit.

* * * *

There is more to this prayer--check it out.  Too, a story concerning this loving Archangel can be found in The Book of Tobit.  

Tom Petty

Angel Hair & Grandma

   
   "Angel Hair & Grandma"
  
   First of all:  Boy, being from the backwoods of Tennessee, he boldly states:  "When ya eat urself a can of them Beanie-Weenies, enjoy the beanies, but never the weenies--ya hear me boy."
  
* * * *

   Now, for something beyond seedless watermelon:  Went to visit my Grandma in a nursing home.  I was eternally emaciated, for that relative moment, with a proud, Tesla-like mustache, though he let Edison have all the credit; next, I slowly sauntered into Grandma's room, and she was being lifted upright by a mechanical appendage, saying:  "Get your ass over here and give me a big kiss."
   Wheeled her outside underneath the Virginia Beach Sunshine--a Border Collie was playing frisbee with its master, and a nice, black lady, also in a wheelchair, asked me if we allowed her to smoke, which I said "Yes" to, and she stated that that was a fine thing to allow.
   As Grandma lit up her generic cigarette, I noticed not any blonde angel hairs upon her--I guess the nursing home didn't house the regulars; then, she looked at me, saying:  "I don't wanna be here.  We should get a shanty.  Just a little shanty."  And then she looked off into the azure noon.  A tough old bird she is.  

Tom Petty

Obi Wan talking to Luke

1970 Dodge Charger

   
   "1970 Dodge Charger"
  
   Being reminiscent of the 1969 version that was engineered by moonshine and Uncle Jesse, with Bo Duke sliding over the hood, kinda/sorta like T.J. Hooker always gallantly on the hood of a car in his series, yet not having the Luke Duke Disorder--got me the Luke Dukes some might mention in melancholy; anyway, I'm talking:  The 1970 Dodge Charger with the HEMI, armed with a new hood cutout--here we go:
  
426 cubic inches.

Horsepower:  425.

Torque making and manipulating rotation--gotta get power to the wheels:  490 lb-ft.

0-60:  5.5 seconds.

1/4 Mile:  13.9 seconds @ 105.

Top Speed:  Hypothetically, 130 plus miles-per-hour.  

Fox Biddable (29)

    
   "Fox Biddable (29)"
   
   Healing Eagle flew and sweetly soared in miraculous triumph; specifically, his prayers to Grandfather had been awesomely answered, in the sublime sense of anti-entropy forging non-foolish fuel for the forbidden fruits denied, in order to obey the true Law, and have the Land (geography) of God Almighty.
   Moreover, Jenny McGee (the fox), and Clovis Bloom (the mongoose) had gelled into the gregarious portion of each others' compulsion, finding gentle and smooth romance, without the noisy burden of an adversary salaciously screaming against the quiet humble of God; however, the God of Israel knows counterpoise, and Christ hands the woefully weak his bullwhip at times, knowing ignorance is not allowed in his Father's or Mother's House, for behold:  "Behold thy Mother."  
   After so much seeming rejection, vociferously offered to the woman that His time has not yet come, but now arriveth, and He offers Saint John the Eagle a genuine Healing Factor of magnanimous mesh in no mirage mirror, but the mystical majesty of a dog not inheriting Heaven, eating dead Roman bodies from the crosses, as they had not the Orthodoxy of Judaism concerning burying their dead, like unto the ivory-tusked elephants, and Clovis and Jenny kissed the salutary spark of magical matrimony, engaging in a symposium of Japanese Rap--me love you long time; plus, happy endings and all the rest of jive turkeys living within us, for we are so mixed and curiously interesting to Otherworldly fascinations, but Jenny McGee's hair morphed blue-black, and she didn't give a damn about her reputation, taming an unknown shrew beneath, while Clovis kissed her fertile feet, so gallant and gently, anointing with oils and aromatherapy for the purpose of non-lascivious love, yet that of brother and sister beyond the constrictive chambers of monstrous man, so innocent in their integrity towards the SOURCE of ALL consolation, and Jenny McGee was a short dwarf; furthermore, a black-haired girl, absorbing the negativity of every situation, while a meek mongoose protected his property with the engaging light of luminous love.  

1968 Camaro SS 396

   
   "1968 Camaro SS 396"
   
   You see plenty of American muscle on the road nowadays; specifically, they have brought back the mean muscle of the 1960's that challenged phony enlightenment, fabricating the distant and mythical Dark Ages.  Nothing save dog and man gelled in sublime synergy does outshine muscle car and man in the mystical mesh of torque and spirit.  Here are some stats for the 1968 Camaro SS 396--like this:
  
RWD; plus, manual gearbox.

396 cubic inches.

325 horsepower.

Plenty of rotating torque:  410 ft-lb.

0-60 dance:  Approximately 6 seconds flat.

Quarter Mile run:  Around 14 seconds.  

Top Speed:  You can't handle it, unless fueled by hope against hopelessness. 

1965 Shelby GT 350

   
   "1965 Shelby GT 350"
   
   At one point in the mid-1980's, my family in Arkansas possessed the pony power of three Mustangs, and I was damn pleased to be in the company of such a stampeding herd of them masculine, muscle-sculpted horses running free on the asphalt ballet of it all.  My older sibling had a 1969 Mustang, being a fire-red small block with a torque-inspired 302 that would sink the fillings in your teeth even deeper within, having a factory hood induction and dual exhaust; however, being spoon fed at a private college into believing in the bourgeois yuppie factor, he set the pony free, but who am I to judge, for I'm a pseudo-redneck, not in touch with whole foods; plus, I've never attempted to go on an idealistic safari for Sasquatch in Canada.  Anyway, I'm talking about the 1965 Ford Mustang Shelby GT 350 HERE, having an overhead valve, being a 4.7 litre with 8 cylinders; moreover, two valves per cylinder.  Here are some specs and performance levels--here we go:

RWD; also, 4-speed manual gearbox.

289 Cubic Inches.

Horses under the hood:  306.

Torque outta the hole:  329 ft-lb.

0-60:  5.7 seconds.

Quarter Mile run:  14.5 seconds @ 98 mph.

Top Speed:  134.  

Sneak Peek With Shaggy - "Scooby-Doo! The Mystery Begins"

Fox Biddable (28)

   
   "Fox Biddable (28)"
   
Clovis Bloom was in a surreal state of mystic meditation,
Praying the Holy Rosary; specifically, reflecting upon the Sorrowful Mysteries--no hesitation,
Viewing himself as the mighty mongoose that was Christ's cool companion,
Swiftly slaying the antagonizing adder in the Garden beyond sin's canyon;
Next, weeping as the quintessential Herpestidae, during the scourge at our pillar's kin,
Which are our selfish smears of insidious sin;
Furthermore, not slaying toxicity while a humble crown mocked with thorns,
Yet accepting the humiliations, so that Christ's love can open the heavens to all fatigued forms;
Then, watching with weeping eyes as his Lord carried the timber burden,
Before brutally being nailed for our lack of righteousness--it so obviously certain
Since we seek not first the shimmering quiet of God,
Yet panic over the hullabaloo-like noise of an adversary's wickedly vociferous fraud;
On the contrary, his tears did fade in this sanctuary of silence, like a friendly mouse,
Chanting the Hail Holy Queen, and remembering Her brave and protectively chaste spouse;
As a result, Clovis knew that death has no salacious sting--
If we drink of the bodacious blood that in reticence does bravely sing;
Therefore, he would French Kiss Jenny McGee's foxy mouth,
Being resurrected to a sub-state of normality, and possibly, share the synergy as himself a spouse.  

1968 Ford Falcon Futura

   
   "1968 Ford Falcon Futura"
  
   Back in them spaced-out 1970's, when Stars Wars--the truly original, awesome ONE appeared on the Big Screen, I was living in Richmond, Virginia; moreover, my cool step-brother always let me pretend I was driving his car, which he'd park atop our gravel driveway, and alongside me was my dog, Hoover--not named after the former President, but after the vacuum cleaner.  Anyway, I don't know if this was his model of the Ford Falcon, and I'm talking the Coupe with the 289 V-8 small block.  Here are some stats and performance levels:
  
RWD; plus, manual 3-speed gearbox.

288.5 Cubic Inches.

Horses:  195.

Torque:  288 lb-ft.

0-60 Dash:  8 seconds.

Quarter Mile Sprint:  16.7 seconds.  

Fox Biddable (27)

   
   "Fox Biddable (27)"
   
   Healing Eagle had life as pestering Fox and Manly Mongoose were out on another compulsive date, yearning, not allowing love's fortune; nevertheless, they were believers, and the fusion of shimmering sparks would unite long-time--me love you long-time says Japanese rapper.
   Regardless, Healing Eagle loved the fox and mongoose, but enjoyed the sobriety of isolation save for the Great Spirit's true grace within him, without the poison of Kool-Aid.
   He resisted not evil.  Uttered beyond the Four Winds:  "Heart of Jesus, formed by the Holy Spirit in the Womb of the Virgin Mary; Heart of Jesus, SOURCE of ALL consolation."
   Next, he went inside and watched John Wayne drive a Honda.  The Duke got shot in the leg with an arrow in every movie, but never wounded like King Arthur in the high thigh; still, that King had his rocks--just didn't know it, but he does now.  

American Ride by Toby Keith with Lyrics

Fox Biddable (26)

   
   "Fox Biddable (26)"
   
   Jenny McGee was sitting at Healing Eagle's picnic table, alongside the shamanistic Cherokee, spilling her stinky beans on how Clovis was becoming an extraordinary ordeal of sorts.  Healing Eagle reminded her that the mongoose man had been battling venomous vipers his entire life, dealing with the deviled deck of dastardly demons, and that she had no "tuned in" clues on his feelings of guilt; moreover, he told her to be patient, accept the mutated, weak, strong, whatever--offering the consideration of consolation and cool calm, for it's not easy to endure a lifetime of crusty contagion.
   Jenny McGee agreed.  Just give the guy some Viagra, by way of sneaking it into some Kool-Aid; next, he'll drink it, lay the pipe, and get used to the art of a long love-making lounge in her warm and burning embrace.  
   But Healing Eagle also reminded, sensing her foxy tactics:  "Do not push or trick this man.  Just offer body language, as you are the fox and he is the mongoose; next, he will dance with you, and never give a man a gun unless he can dance.  Intercourse is not a sport, but play between two beings that love each other, in a sincere fashion--nothing more; nothing less."  

Fox Biddable (25)

   
   "Fox Biddable (25)"
   
   Clovis Bloom willingly broke down in front of Jenny McGee as she attempted to put her tongue in his mouth @ the Sonic, retreating by way of a phobic-fueled desire to inspect her oral cavity for overgrowth of fungi; specifically, examine her tongue for a thrush like phenomena; next, prescribe her active cultures and live-action garlic to chew, followed by white tea gelled with mint leaves and freshly ground cloves.
   "Clovis--I'm not gonna bite you."  She stated sweetly.
   Clovis' facial expression flared into a blush from beyond, him freakishly protesting:  "Oh my gosh--you're gonna attempt to give me oral sex--that could lead to your chili dog's bacterial content being inserted through my urethra, making me have to walk around with a wheelbarrow for weeks."
   Like a frozen grump, Jenny sat back in her seat, folded her arms as would an angry child, blew her hair out of her face, or attempted to, forgetting the near buzz cut; then, she said:  "Clovis--this may not work out."
   He was sanitizing his mouth with the inside of his t-shirt, and blurted:  "You're telling me sister; you're an animal."  

Fox Biddable (24)

   
    "Fox Biddable (24)"
   
   Healing Eagle was puffing away on his homegrown, neuroprotective tobacco, outside of the bowling alley, meditating upon the strong pitch of a Blue Jay's cunning tactics, and making Socratic observations upon the braggadocious bravado of a female Roman, wet behind her monkey ears, shouting, being high on Charlie Sheen:  "Yeehaw!  I got me a college education!  Yeehaw!  I got me a college education!  Yeehaw!  I'm as good as a doctor!  Went to a Bush League school, but I shave my hamster panties, being into infantile luminosity.  And I've given my brother a wet willy with my vainglorious vibrator--it's from the country, I pester with a ponder, of Africa, being jet black, and absorbs the negativity of not being able to fly Von Braun's velocity."
   Healing Eagle looked skywards, to Grandfather, knowing her father-in-law had been chased by three guys, cowardly flying home in an anxious panic, as that is his wife's woeful way, and his derelict Dad was laying a Lincoln Log in the receiving commode; next, a big, raunchy yet super-symmetrical poop made by grumpy grayskull, dumped from a cooter's caveman-like intestinal tract, rubbing his retreating rectum, within the foundation of the new, pseudo-suburban home he bought, and he never forgets the salacious smell, but takes it deep into his prostate's hesitation, while Homer Simpson works "you know where" and the eternally-fluxing flow of mundane monkeys, thinking more than a banana pugnaciously peeled out of indisputable urgency, but not, only to have chronic concern over eating Big Top Bozo peanuts from the 1970's festive carnival, when big elephants buried their own dead for the first time, and Chief Mojo Rising sees all.  

Fox Biddable (23)

   
   "Fox Biddable (23)"
   
   Jenny McGee and Clovis Bloom were in Jenny's economically-inclined Honda, for Clovis couldn't handle the responsibility of driving an automobile due to the perpetuity of ringing in the ears, as if he was picking up the higher frequencies concerning the supernatural; also, they were parked at a SONIC, in the Nashville neon of night, her eating a chili dog--and NO, this did not carnally arouse him; moreover, he brought his own bottled water; plus, innocently chewed gum after a session of heavy hand sanitization; then, the conversation sparked after Jenny let out a bullfrog burp.

JENNY
Scuze me--that went down a little rough.  And she blushed a bit, remembering to focus on her fox, fitting in with stealthy camouflage; however, she felt so much liberty around Clovis.

CLOVIS
No biggie.  I'm busy anyway, smelling the resonation of your chili beans.

JENNY
Are you gonna puke or something?  Serious concern on her face.

CLOVIS
No.  I'm focusing my mind, putting it inside the 1980's novel, Lando Calrissian and the Mindharp of Sharu.  My Dad bought it for me in 1983, and I'm way too old to be Disney Star Wars, knowing the original film company wanted Chewbacca to wear pants.

JENNY
You're a nerd--but I like it, for you're a mongoose too.  Swell counterpoise you got going.

CLOVIS
It's part of my charm.

JENNY
Wanna make out?

CLOVIS
You wouldn't happen to have any Listerine, would you?

   Jenny's garnet green eyes sparkled with both curiosity and amazement--it was all good.  

Fox Biddable (22)

   
   "Fox Biddable (22)"
   
   Clovis Bloom was back in the shrink's office, doing it non-Freudian style, sitting face to face with the introspective physician.  The twosome then ignited the therapeutic talk.  
  
SHRINK
So, what's been going on Clovis?

CLOVIS
Well, I've figured out some of my phobias concerning the drama of why I haven't engaged in intercourse yet, but I'll save that for another time.  Right now--I'd like to talk about algebra.

SHRINK
Algebra?

CLOVIS
Yup--I didn't know what the hell was going on in high school algebra.  I was so confused.  Numbers and letters next to each other make no sense to me.  So, my Dad got me this tutor, but all he did was chew ice in my ear and call me George; next, my high school teacher told me I could either get my act in line, or go home and watch All My Children.

SHRINK
What did you do?

CLOVIS
I went home and watched All My Children.  Hell, I tried for years to get it, with everything I had--it was just so ambiguous to me.  Nobody knows how hard I tried.  So, I became my own pedagogue, reading Shakespeare, who might actually be Sir Francis Bacon, and while no student is above his teacher, I now ponder if I'm above myself or not.  And buffet food creeps me out.  Never eat from anything that has a sneeze guard, for a sneeze can travel twenty feet, wending its way faster than light speed, and full of creepy cooties.

SHRINK
I'm gonna up your anti-psychotics.  You may develop some twitching.

CLOVIS
G-r-e-a-t . . .

Cranberries Zombie ( lyrics )

Fox Biddable (21)

   
   "Fox Biddable (21)"
   
   It was Saint Patrick's Day, and Jenny McGee was confident in the Patron Saint of Ireland; specifically, happy to get her Lucky Charms on, dream about Notre Dame football, and even pleased that her Dad could get drunk so much yet never have a carnal fantasy concerning her--people know things, if we'd get our heads out of our cell phones; plus, wake up and smell the Folgers.
   So, working the bar/pub/joint on a true Catholic Holiday--in her truth at least, she felt like a scrapper, and was not gonna take crap from the big-mouthed drunks, them walking over the meek, taking advantage of pure love, hating the poor in spirit, and not seeking after righteousness but themselves, yet tonight--she'd seek righteousness.
   There was a guy with an over-sized cranium that was pestering her.  Kept saying how cool he was, and that he was a big money man--all while she was trying to pour beer.  She just kept smiling, doing her laboring duties, but as she didn't answer, he shouted:  "Why would I want to be with a simple bartender anyway--I'm a rich man!"
   Jenny knew that her corporeal traits did outshine his mundane demons; moreover, she had luminous light inside, while he was filled with the vacuous darkness.  Therefore, she was gonna snap at him, but smiled and told her manager to get rid of him, cutting him off, saying she wouldn't serve him anymore due to his rude intoxication levels; next, went out the back door into the alley, glaring at a waning Moon, so innocently sublime, radiating the Sun's kiss back at her with a sister's loving care.   

Dances With Wolves - Wolf Scene -- Lt John Dunbar Receives his Sioux Nam...

She's Country - Jason Aldean (Lyrics)

Fox Biddable (20)

   
   "Fox Biddable (20)"
   
   Healing Eagle was back at his picnic table on the Rosary Beads, knowing it was the forgiving season of a Lamb's Lent; at the same time, as it was a Friday, he meditated upon much odious neglect and insidious abuse, and while a good crowning with thorns may invoke "love of humiliations" upon us, he knew the Great Spirit had gelled with him on this day to showcase the more savage side of a mighty Christ, a true God/true man--One able to endure tremendous torture and still sweetly smile into the Heavens and upon His immaculate Mother.  
   The Virgin-Phobia of the day, Her mentioning two thousand years ago that She would always be remembered, and She is--more statues of Her are forged than American Flags, and God comes even before a soldier's country, which Saint Joan of Arc knew, but loving her France as well, and in that country the negative blood type is not like unto a niddering, but displays itself with the powerful potency of mystical voices.
   But back to the Queen of ALL Virgins, as She is the Ark of the Covenant, holding the Living Torah in Her inviolate womb, which held real POWER.  And as Moses offered the true LAW, knowing it brought life, so did She offer true LAW, knowing it brings life.  Yet people are ignorant of their theology, always entering into another's house without Christ's knowledge to bless or salute it, breaking the Beatitudes, which of course most, again, are ignorant of, only blessing themselves.  
   Yet as Ezekiel saw the anti-gravity craft and the Four Living Creatures within, before the invention of science fiction, he was told near the river Chebar that a man must turn from his self-serving ways and embrace virtue, without which--there is no life; therefore, follow the true LAW, and no worries; otherwise, bibble loudly in someone's house when they offer you wafers and you have monkey protein in your blood, yet you can still turn to the Law, having a macrosmatic knowledge of the real wafer--the non-symbolic Flesh of  Christ; next, Healing Eagle came upon the ten remaining beads, contemplating the gore-spiked Crucifixion, weeping like unto a child, and believing that he was not the center of the Multiverse, but knowing every man is the face of Grandfather, him having carried us in the sac of his allegorical scrotum before time itself, us being a candle intended to forever flicker lovingly, save for those angrily annihilated by abortion.  But Christ forgives ALL--if we follow Him.   

Coyote - National Park Animals for Kids

Fox Biddable (19)

   
   "Fox Biddable (19)"
   
   Clovis Bloom was totally in love with the garnet green eyes of Jenny McGee; moreover, the rest of her entire, angelically-crafted soul--the inside and out; however, he had a dubious dilemma; thus, the reason for him always at the shrink.
   When he was an adolescent, around the age of sixteen, he was at his first girlfriend's house, and the filthy pig was making a salami sandwich in her messy kitchen--so Clovis went to investigate the rest of the sloppy house.  He accidentally stumbled upon a heap of dirty clothes on the staircase; next, he spotted a pair of her pink panties, and he got exited.  Every teenage boy wants to smell a pair of panties.  So, he picked them up, unfolded them, and went in for the sniff, but upon looking within the panties, he saw a big poop stain that reeked within; as a result, he jumped back, dropping the panties, and made a mercurial exodus from the house.  He is still a virgin to the day, and is approaching his forty-fifth birthday.  
   But he knew Jenny McGee would have clean panties, without the skid marks.  He just sincerely knew it.  Believe it and thy laundry shall be done--Christ kinda/sorta said.   

Indiana Jones Plane Fight Scene 1:30

Fox Biddable (18)

   
   "Fox Biddable (18)"
    
   As the March Winds blew in their directed direction, Healing Eagle puffed away on the peace pipe loaded with organic tobacco, homegrown, making sure the tobacco companies didn't spike his smoke with pernicious ingredients.  He inhaled deeply, holding it in his internal cavities as long as he could, praying, though unlike a babbling pagan, and passed out; next, awoke to the Great Spirit's answer.
   Indeed, his sister, Black Snake, had made a jester-like Judas out of the Chief, conning the foul fool into sending his meek mother away to a nefarious nursing home, while he (Healing Eagle) had kept her in a worthier state of health than any typhlotic physician could.  It was bad enough that his father had been thieved away by the white woman, whose cruel countenance was sickly smeared in the after-effects of wrongdoing rhinoplasty, but now his merciful matriarch was in the non-holistic hands of ruthless ruffians drinking Kool-Aid, the same non-native people who soul-washed much of his heritage, thinking slavery outshines genocide, but he would not drink of that preposterous poison, especially when you can't resurrect the dead under ordinary circumstances, though Israel has the highest rate of resurrection, but the Warriors of the North, like Tecumseh Sherman, unloosed  a nation, sacrificing myriads of their own blood--and they are venomously spit on by antagonizing adders.    
   So, the Great Spirit told Healing Eagle to have another puff of the neuroprotective tobacco, and he did so; moreover, softly smiled without wicked agitation into his sister's sinister soul, knowing:  the Blood is the Life, as mentioned by Christ, and that her blood was full of the rhesus monkey spirit, while he was chosen, and that if she did not become a blood sister unto Christ; next, she would be a slaughtered goat on the left of the Messiah's mighty intentions.   
   Indeed, some candles were lit before the architecture of time itself, resisting not the darkness, for that is when light does fuse, and two become one.    

Alison Krauss - when you say nothing at all ( with lyrics)

Fox Biddable (17)

   
   "Fox Biddable (17)"
   
   Clovis and Healing Eagle had begun hanging out, for Clovis had innocently dated Jenny McGee a few times, yet had hushed his mouth concerning his mystical encounters, though Healing Eagle sensed that he too was facing his own abuse--the scrappy, little mongoose man.
   So, at the bowling alley, and again--not bowling, but sitting at the bar, Healing Eagle dipping peach chaw, and Clovis Bloom rednecking it up, having a MOUNTAIN DEW and trying not to think about Dolly Parton's buxom bodaciousness lathered up in buttery beads of sweat; nevertheless, he did have great reverence for Jenny's cupcake cleavage, and hoped as King Solomon knew, that the youth of her time relative bosom would satisfy him--and he knew it would.
   Healing Eagle spoke:  "I sense you have forgiven all men, knowing it is the only path to being forgiven yourself, never partying like Phinehas when defeating an adversary, so to speak, but you hate the demons that tap into their pineal part and drive men to become demons themselves."
   Clovis was like:  "Sometimes.  But I want to pick up the real reptiles as Christ said I would.  Hell, I've already drank the poison.  People pissed in my Kool-Aid since the beginning, and not just metaphorically I'm talking.  Out for themselves, hubris-fueled, hating others with talents and high cheekbones.  But it all comes from the darkness, God resisting not, turning the other cheek for perpetuity; next, light is born from being abused, gravity having held down fusion for long enough, in a matter; then, a star is born, and when gravity loses, we're kinda talking supernova--you picking up what I'm putting down?"
   Healing Eagle:  "Your science is a little off, but so was Einstein's; however, I too walk your road, and that's why I'm helping Jenny's fox grow strong.  You have to know who you are, reflecting, and not simply moving in a mercurial direction towards your own ambitions, for God needs workers for the harvest, which is more important than becoming a weird gastroenterologist and impressing yourself."  

   INSERT A SMILE!

   Clovis:  "And yeah, they say shrinks are weird, right?  Damn, I've had more probes from the fallen angels than Brigham Young had wives."
   Healing Eagle:  "And white man can still laugh.  You are truly the mongoose, armed with good vibrations, but you have no surf board."
   The twosome shared the synergy of a simultaneous chuckle. 

Fox Biddable (16)--Abrahamic God

   
   "Fox Biddable (16)--Abrahamic God"
   
   Clovis Bloom was scratching at his buzz cut; plus, sitting face to face with his sophisticated shrink, being brutally honest, knowing:  JESUS--Light of Confessors!!!
   
CLOVIS
And why do the Abrahamic Brothers fight?  Solomon knowing that your brother is your adversary, yet Wolverine and his brother went back to back at times, defeating the true enemy.  The Abrahamic Brothers should gregariously gel and team up, wasting all the Buddhists and practitioners of Hinduism--not each freaking other.  A Muslim has the keys to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, for the Franciscans and the Orthodox fight over the keys; next, the Israeli Police are called in, and a Muslin brings peace.  And you know--I'm kinda being jovially jocular my man. 

SHRINK
You're not a racist, nice--right?

CLOVIS
There's no different species of human; thus, there is only one race--the human race.  Save for all the hybrids and androids walking around.

SHRINK
Clovis--you're acting sick again.

CLOVIS
Sickness can be a great blessing.  The physician of God; specifically, the Arch-Angel Saint Raphael has an uncanny sense of humor, bringing brighter green peace than all the other Divine Seven Who stand before the Throne of Him.  Sickness is not all punishment, though for some, yet for the others that fear God--the Father doesn't chide always, nor damn us for our iniquities--if we hate pride, arrogance, and the forked tongue.

SHRINK
So, tell me about this foxy girl?

CLOVIS
Rubbed his eyes with fascination.  She's a Barbie Doll with short hair.  Been mistreated and envied her entire life.  But she's learning to fight, and I really like her.  I mean--I really freaking like her.   

Fox Biddable (15)--Virgin & Water Well

   
   "Fox Biddable (15)--Virgin & Water Well"
   
   Jenny McGee had invited Healing Eagle over to her suburban sprawl, the habitat, a little demonic with dust bunnies mating in many places; on the contrary, she was swift to clean, when her Dad, a consumer of hard spirits was not quenching the hole in his hollow soul.
   Healing Eagle entered the suburban sanctuary, praying:  "Bless this house."  For it is the Christ's words to do so when entering, and when servants enter, if you make friends with them; next, they will become your masters.
   While Dad was upstairs and into the Jack Daniels, like an idiot, though he had his reasons, but that's why wine and beer were invented by holy men--to retain a more even buzz; regardless, Jenny McGee and Healing Eagle spoke of many things, him telling her of his Visitation from the Queen of ALL Virgins, when she appeared to him next to a water well; furthermore, he continued:
   "I did not understand at first.  But we all thirst.  For there is a hole in our souls.  We attempt to fill it with money, careerism, adventure, travel, sex, yet we still thirst, not knowing that if we drink of Christ's water; then, we will never be thirsty again.  But a distracted foe is a weakened foe, and the adversary has distracted us.  We are the seeds of God--He is in us.  You don't need your smart phone to tell you where to get the best pizza, for it is already within you where the best pizza is."
   Jenny was like:  "What a bombshell on all the bullshit.  We are forgetting that we are gods, and the machines will kill us, being the tricksters."
   Healing Eagle continued:  "While some machines do have a wicked consciousness, others have a conscience, for as many as there are against you--so is there many with you."  

Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back - Wampa Cave - HD 1080p

Tom Bosley as a Priest

   
   "Tom Bosley as a Priest"
   
   Fonzie is the Lone Ranger, and Richie is Tonto, as it goes, weirdly.  The Father Dowling Mysteries is a series of books and television shows that highlight a man wearing the Roman Collar and unearthing nefarious mysteries, always solved by the Parish of Chicago; specifically, Saint Michael's.
   Sister Stephanie is always there, as women should be, having higher empathy and super-mundane levels of intelligent intuition, unless armed with a cottage cheese buttocks, their pineal glands calcified by complex carbohydrates.  Women are not dogs and fat slobs--just controlled by a lust for HUNGRY.
   So, seek the man in the white hat, for he will only shoot your handful of sins, allowing you forgiveness, simply rebuking you, before bloodshed truly begins.  Christ was no wussy, but the Son of David, armed with an enjoyment for life's decency, as was His best pal, Saint John the Eagle, listening to the Sacred Heart, yet we all run like the ROCK (Saint Peter), when we should only be exiled and write our revelations.  
   All is sacred; nothing is sacred.  Learn the lessons, say your best ACT OF CONTRITION, and blast off to God, unless you do not resist not, which offers only your own rejection save justified by TRUTH.  

Fox Biddable (14)--fox, eagle, & mongoose

   
   "Fox Biddable (14)--fox, eagle, & mongoose"
   
The threesome had become great friends,
All armed with benevolent love towards each other, and a bubble around their gel till the end
And beyond, for they were singing the gregarious and loyal geese song,
Them flying in a V, and halting flight when one got sick or wended wrong;
Indeed, families should not be the adversary of each other,
And at the top should be crowned a merciful mother;
Plus, a strong patriarch following her intuition and meek lead,
Like riding on a white horse's galloping, good deed
Towards the black hats that cause mischief and strife,
Always wanting to iniquitously initiate a fight,
Not caring for the poor in spirit as commanded by Christ,
Turning their back on the sick to save their own life,
But even Saint Roch found time to retreat from the plague;
Still, a holy hound did with healing licks save,
Though greater love hath no soul than to lay his life down for a friend,
And Healing Eagle, Jenny McGee, and Clovis Bloom were intertwined till the end,
Putting all spats of envy, greed, and cruelty behind,
Only wishing love and darling stars to be in a linear line, which can never be taxed or declined,
Yet there are bad hombres everywhere,
Wearing a demon's mask--getting off on despair;
Next, a prophet or cowboy comes along,
Singing Roy Rogers' croon, which is a healing love song,
Or a punch in the face after having turned two cheeks,
Running out of countenance, and using his fists to strike the beasts,
Yet where have all the cool Indians and Cowboys gone,
And now we're left with moles and goblins doing Adamkind wrong--
Oh well, 
That's why God crafted hell.  

Fox Biddable (13)--Moses and the serpent

    
   "Fox Biddable (13)--Moses and the serpemt"
   
   Clovis Bloom knew of the powers concerning the super-mundane Staffs of God, wielded diligently by Moses and his older, Levite brother, him wearing topaz on his breastplate.  Moses' snake consumed Pharaoh's, and is medicamental concerning weight--the weight of patience and consumption, devouring the lesser adder, for ALL is manipulated by the Author of Life's mystical mystery--Christ speaking in parables so they have not the chosen's information.
   Clovis prayed for his adversaries to love the true Law, which gives life, and though not Benjamin's ravenous wolf, he was the mongoose, similar save size, but size and numbers do not matter, as we learned in Vietnam, now aware of Sun Tzu.  
   If you send out a cursing serpent, God forgives, offers boils and all the rest; next, consumes you if you do not submit to the Pentateuch.  It's all Greek to me, but even as the Alpha and the Omega, time being relative, Christ preserves the just.  We must suffer before knowing true love.  And Clovis was terrorized by those encompassing him like bees, his tongue glued to the top of his mouth, but crying out to the Lord in honesty; indeed, he would make friends of the chosen.
   Jenny McGee would be that friend, and the true Native of America, Healing Eagle, would be the bridge to the Great Spirit, a Grandfather as strong as love's uncanny steel.  

Thanks to Saint Joan of Arc

   
   "Thanks to Saint Joan of Arc"
   
Dear Patron Saint,
Thank you for accompanying me throughout the day, and in the work that I did.  Thank you also for your guidance and counsel.  Please help me listen to God and to you, dear Saint, that I may do what I am called to do.  Please intercede on my behalf and beg God to take all my faults and turn them into virtues.  I thank you for all you have done for me, and all the things you have interceded for on my behalf.  Please continue to pray for me and for all the souls who need it.

St. Joan of Arc, Pray for us.

Amen.

Written by Andrea Rau 

Fox Biddable (12)--giant & mongoose

   
   "Fox Biddable (12)--giant & mongoose"
   
   After a super, splendid night chatting it up with Jenny McGee's foxy fabulous, and bowing humbly to Healing Eagle, Clovis Bloom went home, took his pills and vitamins, drank a hot glass of lemongrass tea and fell into slumber.  He awoke, not having REM sleep, though knowing a giant had come to him from a foreign dimension during sleep and planted a robotic bug in his nasal cavity; thus, when Clovis awoke, he invoked the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph for their parental protection; next, went to see his shrink, the man highly intelligent, but believing Jung's bullshit on flying saucers.
   As the twosome sat across from one another, Clovis not laying on the couch behind the shrink, though the man was a Freudian--to the bone. 
   Clovis told him about how they've been here since Saint Michael drove them to the Earth, and that they have been in a nefarious gel with societies since the conception of human consciousness, often coming in your dreams, which is you remembering the interaction, for as the Psalmist and Christ knew--we are gods, and the best karate is inside of us, unless we're distracted by idol worship like money, careerism or how our neighbor's breasts might feel, and if she's a C or D cup; moreover, Clovis told him that a fallen angel that appeared as a nasty giant put a probe in him, working alongside the shadow government.  The shrink probed as well:  "Still on the anti-psychotics?"
   Clovis was like:  "Hell ya, but it's not like I'm pissed or anything.  They're supposed to try and kill me, for that's their job.  But Jesus puts the pitchfork up their ass in the end--so, I'm fine.  I'm too stupid to have anxiety.  Confucius knows that an ignorant man is far more dangerous than an educated man; plus, I am the mongoose."
   The shrink asked:  "The mongoose?"
   "Yeah, it's better to be hated than phony.  You love danger and kill venomous animals."  Clovis blurted.
   The shrink with:  "How's reality, you crank?"
   Clovis, not offended, responded:  "I met a girl last night, and she's a fox."
   The shrink rubbed his forehead, mumbling:  "My Dad always told me to be a pediatrician." 

Fox Biddable (11)

   
   "Fox Biddable (11)"
   
   Clovis Bloom was reluctantly lounging at the bowling alley, drinking COKE until his teeth hurt, and admiring the suave countenance of short-haired Jenny McGee, her locked in mystic dialogue with an obvious Native of true America.  Clovis had telepathy, of sorts, knowing--you shall know them by their fruits; moreover, he picked up what Jenny and the beautiful Red Man were sincerely and totally discussing--the nature of identity; specifically, the rise of the weak--God choosing the last to be first--King David mocked as a Shepherd boy while his older brothers thrived in more pseudo-prominent areas; thus, Clovis Bloom knew Jenny McGee to have found herself; as a result, he decided to introduce himself, putting aside his COKE and cautiously sauntering towards Jenny's direction, having great reverence for the true Native of America, and the sublime spirit within him.

CLOVIS
Taps Jenny lightly on the shoulder, but not before giving eye contact to Healing Eagle and extending a hand that was calmly shaken.  I couldn't help but notice that you're a blooming lady, seemingly without the protection of a lover.

HEALING EAGLE
Jenny--listen to this one.  Exits.

JENNY
Well--I guess you can sit down, cowboy.

CLOVIS
Sits.  I am welcome for your gracious acceptance, and am curious as to the possibilities of your futurity.

JENNY
What do you mean?

CLOVIS
Does it include me.  Realize . . .

JENNY
Focused upon all possibilities.  Never say never again.  I guess some guys aren't scum.

CLOVIS
Woman on top.  I know the Queen of Hearts well.  A man must break his sorry ass to admire and give everything to a fine woman.  For while men are generally better than women--a divine woman is worth more than a myriad of men.

JENNY
I think I like you.

   They both smiled into the possibilities of each other--both separate Universes within the Multiverse.  

Hail Holy Queen

     
   "Hail Holy Queen"
   
Hail, Holy Queen, Mother of Mercy, our life, our sweetness and our hope!  To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve.  To thee doe we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears!  Turn, then, O most gracious Advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us, and after this, our exile, show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus.  O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary.

Amen.