Existence Womb (44)

   
   "Existence Womb (44)"
     
   The threesome, on the outskirts of bucolic Calgary, cozy comfort blazing with the southern element of fire burning brightly, that secret heat of healing blue hidden within the fiery flames of what might be called "devil colors" and all; regardless, it warmed them.
   Miriam and Buck in thick-knitted socks and new attire.  Back in The Last Great Place, Montana--they stopped at Walmart, and for under 100 Benjamin Pics, were able to afford economical armor for the arctic-like conditions, many a time really, for Calgary, a region that was like a frozen-like, fertile steppe, the grasslands always brewing, and all of them, with honey drizzle atop their icy mugs of Moosehead, being American yet entertaining new Canadian ideas concerning their whereabouts.  Yes Miriam was underage, but they did christen her with John Barleycorn re-birthed.   
   And while they did get a fantastic bargain on their clothing--if pants, shirts, and coats were made in China; next, maybe a thoracic or genital mutation after years or days of wear, whatever.  "Made in China" does not always mean BullShit, for to go to War with them, in another World Conflict--this would make ISIL appear nothing more than a haunting specter, able to hurt, but not the modern catastrophe of it all burning with a nuclear wheeze, not a whimper.    

Existence Womb (43)

    
   "Existence Womb (43)"
    
Past the drama with Divine Dexterities--who needs the conversational hiccup of drama?
Miriam ran through the ankle-deep snow to lovingly embrace her Dad in his portion of pajama.
No--she no longer possessed the corporeal aspects of mamma kin,
Yet was elegantly allowed the bizarre sin that is matrimonial sex, like angels dancing on a pin--
Are kids not born into sin--some into a reptilian hex?
Is it not for most:  A mess does get cheap sex?   
But now in Canada and documents to prove,
Though the Boss 302 needed chains during the Alberta groove;
However, rear end torque coming out of the hole,
Could push that Beast to the North Pole,
And things like Santa were so alive to mirth-dreaming Miriam,
For to have a father so professional; plus, without a bit of carnal delirium.    

Existence Womb (42)

   
   "Existence Womb (42)"
    
   Merry Miriam and second-guessing Buck, along with all their metaphysical weaponry and archaic, theological texts, were loaded in the fully restored Boss 302, from the sexually-seeming, very late Sixties--the twosome merged with the angry automobile, rambled, sometimes eloquently, rolling balanced down the beauty of an asphalt ballet, dirty dancing with moments of terrifying guy-power--low-end torque I'm talking; next, hands-on-the-wheel steady, like Werewolf cruise control.
   A mysterious clad man, such as G. Gordon Liddy working for the Nixon Alien Division back in his day, when Jackie Gleason saw the bodies of dead angels after a golfing game with the neurotic Nixon; anyway, the man, a delirious display of spookishness, was overheard by Miriam, saying to Buck:  "Your Canadian documents are all there.  Too, everything electronic is kosher."
   And Miriam thought--maybe a Jewish Vampire.  Nah, werewolves didn't mix with morphine-driven (the yummy blood-lust) of multi-fanged murderers; regardless, she had her interrogative probes fireworking off in her sonic, youthful mind; nevertheless, she just held onto Buck as he worked the manual transmission, hugging harder with every shift of Classic Muscle Car.    

Existence Womb (41)

   
   "Existence Womb (41)"   
   
Under scrotal anguish, Buck pondered:  "How can heretical hooligans call Catholics Legalists?"
When Baby Messiah with pneumatic-pocket fold fits into Ricky Bobby's Ballad of Jesus?
Regardless, Buck had Honored and Revered with a Willed pommel-gripping fist,
Finding not Divine Nature, but the might of a Blessed Virgin's right to appear in sacred mist;
Plus, used fangs (Buck did) and the wolf hide of a God-Protected fury,
Always with ascetic-styled prayer--never in a Hermes-Driven hurry, 
But knew Ubiquitous Truth rested not in a creation hijacked by a seeming angel or brother,
Yet to have the Ear of God as does Christ's Inviolate Mother--
Rambling--V-8, gallop gallantly Sir Buck, have no Malus animus he Totally knew,
Yet with Miriam's breasts like symmetrical melons and his centuries of a vow--this was blue--
A bad shade, not the healing hue,
Of the entire Holy Spirit, before the Rainbow was sexualized and the World had a clue--
But no man needs my indignation,
And Buck believed in the potency of every undocumented human species in every Nation.   

Existence Womb (40)

    

   "Existence Womb (40)"

   Buck Pewter felt overwhelmed.  Almost torn to pieces by alien, angel-like toads, his wolf healing quickly though; still, it bothered him, without a true pack; regardless, he had too much on his plate, went to complaining, remembering Christ's kinda/sorta offering of a mercy deal:   "Father, if You are willing, take this cup from me."  But remembering, let the Father's Will be done--never yours.  And slaves obey your masters?   Didn't God free the slaves out of Egypt?  Of course Buck went to better than Sunday School; nevertheless, a small group of slaves accept the Torah, the Law, after IT being refused by so many others, yet the Hebrews chose this, this God of the desert, so to speak, and BANGO--they're freed by the most potent of magic.  The differences between King David and Jesus' purity also confusing.  Maybe the balance of it all.  Maybe the Southern Baptists and their love of Zionism, depending boldly on the Old Testament as well.  Polytheism exists.  At least that's clearly explained.  Numerous creature features in the Multiverse and behind it, here, our Universe, and Buck feeling so dumb and yet determined to never touch Miriam again.  To not break his vows to the Black Madonna, which he knelt before so many times during Templar days.  And now--in love?  For Christ's sake.  He was an old yet very young and svelte man.  Miriam awoke next to him in the Mr. T van--he just finished a piece of spicy beef jerky.

MIRIAM
Slept like an angel.  What about you Buck?
  
BUCK
I really love you Miriam.  And it scares the pits of Pandemonium into me.  And here I am, thinking of sexuality and Protestantism.

MIRIAM
What, you off your medicine, silly?   

Existence Womb (39)

   
   "Existence Womb (39)"
   
   Tourmaline--blue-hued amplifier of defeating paranoia.  Buck had been around for a protracted period of existence; hence, knew Miriam's reptilian or spook-crafted implant, possibly a synergy of the iniquitous twosome, kissing each others' asswipe--whatever, it could be so microscopic that only an obsessive surgeon could remove it.  Maybe old Doctor Luke was involved.  A secret eye on his daughter--the beholder of Sleep Paralysis, a medical, bullshit name for what tortured torment really is.
   Buck wanted to hold the Tourmaline next to Miriam's bald spot behind her ear--disrupt the connection.  With his monk-like telepathy perfected by his werewolf nature, Buck could hear the Call of the Wild in Miriam; still, it was his duty to shield her from ignoble aspects that slithered save in Saint Patrick's resonating region.
   He came back to the junkyard, goosing with non-gallantry, quite rudely really, the rebuilt Boss 302 he was restoring, feeling the torque out of the hole, that V-8 force which promotes rotation, spinning his tires like at "The Gumball Rally" scene with the Cobra in the sewer, next to that Italian-constructed piece of shit, well, it was nice, but having owned a Muscle Car junkyard, Buck was a bit picky concerning his hot rods with damning dexterity to bolt from the hole.
   Arriving--he fought off three reptilians harassing Miriam's sleep patterns, collecting data from a neophyte, but for what?  He was full shifted, fanged and clawed, but these were fallen angels, and he sustained many a wound, yet Miriam had the powerful potency to endure, invoking her own Arch-Angelity to defend her, for a moment, thinking:  "I really don't need Buck."  Next, noticing his bloody paws and ooze-smeared fangs dripping from the gore-fought battle.  Yup, she loved and adored him totally.  Needed his gel too--for he would be the united mate of her life.  An everlasting longevity of lovesome.  

Existence Womb (38)

   
   "Existence Womb (38)"
   
Miriam was not monstrously masquerading with sanctimonious, self-deprecating sublimity;
Specifically, honored her own bizarre, social anonymity--
She was the most uncommon bearded-like girl freak--the Real Deal,
Having a virgin's first romantic love; indeed, it felt so religiously real;
Moreover, if pierced by True Love and not the iniquitous itch of simplistic carnal cravings,
It will initially hurt, even from garden-variety junk--mostly from a boy basing it on merely taking;
Furthermore, an encompassing membrane--a hymen's break, even after years of equestrian training--
The pain, if not natural sublimity, leads to a more anguished, soul-centered frustration;
Regardless, the best truth resides in an altruistic alliance ground-rooted in archaic American Free--
A choice made, unhinged, to hold eternal the fated pommel that is your Joan of Arc destiny.
And while a choice to be NORMAL, in a sense, was most frequently entering her probed mind,
Within it, she didn't find Buck's telepathy on her pornographic hind.