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.  

Liberty's Sparkle (43)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (43)"
   
   Before the angel of death carried Tom into the Loving Father's Arms, he confessed to Liberty:  "I've always felt so lazy and guilty.  Bizarre thoughts I never wanted, an inability to gel with society, and compulsions to hate myself."
   Liberty responding:  "Their ignorance Tom.  You had neurological problems--a basal ganglia gone hyperactive since birth; next, a tumor, making things worse.  How can you teach a man to fish with no arms?"
   Tom died shortly thereafter, shaking uncontrollably; then, into the Otherworld, where those that mourn are comforted.
   Wanda's husband Jacob felt a twinge of guilt for not helping, but he was obedient unto a manipulative, cruel spouse--her afflicted with the demons of self love.
   Faye assisted Liberty with the cremation, the twosome not being able to afford a proper and righteous burial.  They never heard a word from Wanda or Tom's other sister, writing him off as a sluggish loser.
   Liberty wept.  Faye too.  Spanky observing sadly, all due to sinister circumstance that drove them to poverty, due to nothing save illness and lack of mercy.
    "What will we do now?"  Liberty asked Faye with tears running down her face.
   Faye embraced Liberty with love:  "Continue being hated by the masses.  Their opinions and ignorance based only on pride."  

Liberty's Sparkle (42)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (42)"
   
   Liberty sought out the honorary Monsignor at Our Lady of Good Counsel.  There, after writing the Church a small check for twelve dollars, she was allowed a theological symposium with the holy man, him wearing the Roman Collar, and having a face more chiseled than Rock Hudson's--a strong jaw, dark brows, and a mane of coal-black hair--very thick.
  
MONSIGNOR
You have Nordic genes--fully evolved you are.

LIBERTY
Huh?

MONSIGNOR
No matter; anyway, you said your husband Tom has a type of brain cancer or something, and that you want to learn how to pray.  Well, "All men's faces are true."  That's from Shakespeare; specifically, Antony and Cleopatra.  And as Christ knew:  "They that are whole have no need of a physician, but they that are sick."

LIBERTY
Are you saying that I don't need God to heal him?

MONSIGNOR
Sparkle Liberty!  That's what you do.  Us humans make up the Multiverse along with the Celestial Hierarchy; however, we all live in separate Universes, yet united.  Infuse your sparkle into your husband Tom.  Willing it naturally, with mirth and much glee.

LIBERTY
That's it!?!

MONSIGNOR
I'm no healer.  I drink sour mash and smoke cheap cigars to deal with my celibacy--the drinking there to extinguish my carnal cravings.

LIBERTY
So, just be myself?

MONSIGNOR
That simple, and the simpler something is; next, the closer it is to God.

Liberty's Sparkle (41)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (41)"
   
   Marty sweetly enabled Tom to undergo cranial magnetic resonance imaging, which ominously displayed a right temporal lobe tumor extending to the basal ganglia.  Obviously, this was part of Tom's tics and suffering.
  Possibly radiosurgery could be performed, but Liberty and Tom were tapped out financially.  Wanda had heard the news, and cackled to her husband Jacob:  "I always knew that my little brother was a mutated freak."
   Jacob, so genuine in his caring, responded:  "We have to help him--to pay for treatment."
   Faye's face turned crimson, as it often did, her responding:  "And rob our retirement account?  The money we've saved for our future children?  This is Tom and that quixotic bitch Liberty's damn problem.  Let them find a way to fund his freakish needs."
   Jacob bit his tongue.  He wanted to slug her, like might the Catholic Sinatra, knowing Christ's words:  "If your brother sins against you--rebuke him."
   On the flip side, within the sublime poverty of the mobile home, Tom was shaking as he laid on the futon, Spanky eagerly watching him, as if knowing his master was sick.
   Faye and Liberty were outside, in the approaching autumn winds, both smoking cigarettes, their hands shaking, and their souls gone weary.
   Liberty was like:  "We can't afford the surgery."
   Faye stated:  "There's always prayer."
   Liberty chimed:  "Everyone thinks I'm so sweet and nurturing, but I've never really prayed, not even when my Dad was sick; we never discussed politics or religion."
   Faye smiled sadly:  "Hell, those two topics are the most interesting.  We gotta find a way to help Tom.  So, start praying Liberty, for just as your soul healed me--it may restore Tom too."
   Liberty cried:  "Why do my friends think I'm so great?"
   Faye grabbed her arm with loving intensity:  "Because you are girlfriend.  You truly are."  

Liberty's Sparkle (40)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (40)"
   
   Faye got the name of the house-calling physician Tom was seeing, an altruistic type, hellbent on driving away people's internal demons--his name was Marty, and he always expected his patients to call him that.  Marty worked Pro Bono for the low income types, out of love for healing.  He met Faye at her apartment, it having had a metamorphosis from immature Goth, to a more elaborate type of classical Goth, her having picked up many Catholic statues and such for her surroundings.  So, as he sat, the conversation began.

MARTY
You said on the phone that this had to do with molestation.

FAYE
Yeah, my crummy father was a real screwball.  I don't blame him anymore, but for years, all I wanted was the attention of guys.  Creepy guys too.  Did anything to get it.  But then, I met Liberty, Tom's wife.  After meeting this wondrous girl everything changed.  I took all my piercings out of my face, and I want to remove my tattoos; plus, I haven't had sex in months.  I'm looking for real love now.

MARTY
So, what's the problem then?  Having trouble relaxing, sleeping, eating?

FAYE
No--none of that.  I just want you to help Tom more.

MARTY
I can't discuss other patients.

FAYE
I'm not stupid; I know that.  But this guy is a mess, and Liberty's enchanting soul hasn't healed him like it has healed me.  Please Marty--help Tom.  Do everything in your power to make him the man he deserves to be.  Liberty tells me all, and we're both really worried about him.

MARTY
You are a nice friend Faye, and don't worry--I'll do my best with Tom.

FAYE
Thanks Doc, uh, I mean Marty.