Liberty's Sparkle (79)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (79)"
   
   Liberty patiently piloted the hybrid through the oncoming snow, wipes waxing on and off, swiftly, as might remind Mr. Miyagi, teacher of Daniel, him surviving not the lion's den, but a scumload of bullies, harassing and attempting to make him somebody's fool; nonetheless, Mr., Miyagi prophetically proclaims:  "Always look eye; make good fight--that's all that matters."
   Liberty made it safely, back to the mobile home park, anchoring the hybrid in a gravel driveway, built for the purpose of Cheap Shit Happens.
   She imagined the newly ignited paperboy of yesteryear, Bobby Rook with two testicles, before the humiliation of his beauty stolen, going into a bar with his mysterious bizarre, like this:  "Hey babe.  A wolf--ya bigger, more friendly, possibly, but we're all dogs; however, I'm the coyote, and baby--my Totem is eternal and infinite."
   The girls would've either run for their lives or have invited him over as a midnight snack, and if that happened, Bobby Rook would've ran, back into the arms of his doomed yet determined destiny.  

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.