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.