Thursday, December 29, 2016
A Protestant attempts to get into Catholic School
"A Protestant attempts to get into Catholic School"
Brothers, us sons of men shouldn't fight. Northern Ireland eventually grew. As a Catholic kid I was baptized as a baby and had taken the Eucharist before adolescence--I figured I knew my place; next, I got sent to Southern Baptist School, where the King James Bible, lacking the Apocrypha, was the order of the day. First hour of school, heavily read, though stumbling upon Luke's First Chapter, where the Virgin Mother proclaims: "My soul doth magnify the Lord." Next, She goes onto say Her Holy Soul will be remembered for every generation--and She is correct, sir.
Anyway, they would always talk about Catholics, and especially Mary, with heavy suspicion. My biological mother was on the horn every night fighting for me, and a teacher would take me outside of the classroom the next day, telling me that all Catholics aren't bad.
Anyway, I still read the King James Bible for the poetry of it all. But I eventually made it to Catholic School, and a kid from the Baptist School attempted to get in as well, for it was the most-respected school in the city of Little Rock, at the time.
So, this very shy, Protestant kid goes into the chain-smoking Priest's office--Priests that smoke always keep their vows of celibacy, in my opinion.
Anyway, the kid was nervous, not understanding the rituals and rich tradition of Catholicism; hence, he asked the Priest: "Uh, what do I call you?"
The hardcore Priest was armed with an ascetically wild sense of humor; moreover, he looked down upon the boy, his Roman Collar glistening in the light; next, he said: "Boy, you call me God."
But, in the end--we all got along.
Loup Soup (5)
"Loup Soup (5)"
The snow was falling in a mercurial whirlwind, and Buster decided to call it a day--no freaking customers either. He gave Jasper the keys and told the dude to lock up; next, smiled as he offered him luck on navigating his motorcycle through the growing layers of snow. Jasper didn't blink.
He remembered Connery in Highlander, telling the Scotsman: "Feel the moose!"
Therefore, Jasper would "feel the wolf" so to speak, having dog in him, and knowing it. A Gray Wolf (Canis lupus) has a smooth muscle system, and the cardiac muscle is linked to it; moreover, that spirited-heart has, sometimes, contractions that are tireless and fully automatic, keeping the wolf's heart beating at 120 beats every minute, so to speak. And like most mammals, armed with a four chamber heart--it wasn't difficult for Jasper to tap into the loyal yet suspicious pathfinder; hence, he left his motorcycle anchored, knowing the Japanese machine was resilient enough to endure a brave snowfall; plus, no soul around here was going to thieve it away; as a result, he turned on the speed of a 40 MPH sprinting wolf, running through the snow with Saint John's spirit, the Disciple Christ loved, him outpacing Saint Peter to the empty tomb in a foot race, yet humble enough to wait for the ROCK before entering the site of a Holy Miracle.
Jasper was home swiftly, and made the Sign of the Cross over himself; plus, a bit pissed that he forgot to pick up any spicy mustard. Too, Boxer the cat would not be happy.
Wednesday, December 28, 2016
Loup Soup (4)
"Loup Soup (4)"
Buster was watching diligently as the snow fell outside of the comic shop, as if a man with eyes stuck in a glued-glare at the aquarium containing many fighting fish; nevertheless, able to multitask, his Icelandic brain remained with his buddy Jasper, and he asked him: "You still combining Ninjutsu with Catholicism? Getting the power of the Okami, though more crafty like the Kitsune, which of course would make you a Canis latrans--ya know: an American Coyote."
"Why do I tell you my secrets?" Jasper thought as he paged through a Power Girl comic book, noticing her buxom barrage of beauty.
Buster continued: "I know, Apollo Creed never told Rocky all his secrets when preparing him to battle Clubber Lang, but you howl quite a bit; still, you own a cat, which is very weird. And that crescent moon necklace--all the signs are there Jasper. I think you're a Meta-Dog." Then, Buster cracked up a bit, turning away from the snow, continuing to pester: "Come on Jasper--take me on one of your adventures, I'm not stupid, and you just act it, but I spy you munching on beef jerky; plus, all that nomadic motorcycle romance you're engaged in."
"You're rambling." Jasper added.
Buster dropped his head: "I know dude. This place is just so boring, and no fishing spots. I miss my homeland, but I am sincerely glad to be an American. I know you like the French pastry at the gas station that the weird lady from Toulon makes. I just wish something cool would happen."
Jasper was like: "Just believe. Don't will it too hard. Just easily believe, and it will. And yes, I do have a bit of dog in me. So, throw me a bone, and order some Werewolf By Night comics from the 1970's."
Tuesday, December 27, 2016
Loup Soup (3)
"Loup Soup (3)"
Jasper dismounted his Ninja 300, took off his protective helmet, and did not yield to the oncoming winter wind, yet hoped for snow to fall politely and for the four winds to be silent; next, after hypnotizing nature, or himself, with vivid imagery, he slowly sauntered through the brisk Nebraska conditions until entering the town's little and only comic shop. They still were without any copies of old Werewolf By Night; plus, Squirrel Girl was a rare character to be found within the plethora of super-heroes being sold on printed ink within the store.
Buster, a tall and handsome blonde; specifically, an Icelandic immigrant without the trace of an accent, for most of those crowned within the Northern European communities are suavely multilingual. Anyway, Buster was like: "Hey man. Just got the original Iceman limited series that got spawned after that wacky Spider-Man Show in the early 80's. I think he looked liked Freddy Jones from Scooby-Doo--what do you think?"
Jasper, stoic in response: "Possibly."
Buster continued: "Anyway, digital shit is killing us. Hell, print media is practically dead--thanks to the old and faithful for still having love and archaic appreciation, right?"
Jasper changed the subject: "You like spicy mustard?"
Buster rubbed the dirty-blonde stubble on his chin; next, offered: "It's good on sardines."
Jasper nodded; then, noticed a unique snowflake fall outside. Soon, more were to arrive.
Loup Soup (2)
"Loup Soup (2)"
"Choose not to be harmed--and you won't be. Leave other peoples' mistakes where they lie." Jasper put down the quotes from Marcus Aurelius, finding Boxer the cat phasing in-and-out between this world and the Otherworld, meowing for some albacore tuna with a dash of mustard to protect from feline thrush. Verily, once Boxer tasted mustard--the cat could not get enough of it, and Jasper felt the same way, though he had dog in him.
Didn't mind the skinny and scrawny comments, for like a coyote--he was lean and keen. Wasn't going to mention their diabetes attraction, or that male genitalia ornamented in red pubic hair was like a girl waiting for the Great Pumpkin that never would arrive with a dark brow--so sexy to the ladies.
Jasper gave a damn, just knew--when your adversary has his arms up; next, that's the best time to go into him, and very low, putting the Dim Mak right up into where it belongs--their fragile and unprotected urethra. He was a peaceful man, yet knew liberalism was a disease, as was the other direction of bullying, both directions putting you in a depraved ditch; plus, a diabolical den of demonic devils.
So, Jasper went to work at the comic book shop, piloting his Ninja 300, easing the high RPM level with a smoothness untold unless experienced, though knowing: experience is useless, unless met with the identical experience; thus, he would try some spicy mustard tonight.
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