Hey Chief (8)

   
   "Hey Chief (8)"
   
   Paul was reflecting upon his childhood; moreover, how he willfully wended his way to a somewhat accomplished adulthood as a dandy barber, and though dandy he was--he knew how to put on Solomon's sincerely sophisticated countenance concerning strength. 
   Paul was afflicted as a child.  Tortured would be a better word.  Numerous clinical psychologists, and an older sister that attempted to play the part of his absent biological father by God-smacking him into a piece of metaphorical steel.  He resisted her discipline, and now knew he was woefully wrong.  Strength births strength.  A bully can sometimes be divine, forging a flashing sword within a well-lit soul, if that person sells their soul to Christ; however, some bullies are garbage. 
   Paul ultimately took his sister's advice, knowing she was only attempting to craft him strong; next, got his barber's license and sought out Christ--God's ultimate champion for humanity, remembering His Mother's words:  "Do as My Son says."
   Christ had no doubt, and if actually tempted--it was a wimpish and weak temptation, as He told one of the Twelve:  "That was the prince of this world, but he has no power over Me."  Like Jango Fett's clones, Christ did His job, perfectly.
   That's why Paul was steeled now; plus, why he would not engage Max in immediate intercourse, testing every spirit as commanded.  And yes, some shrinks do know the difference between mental illness and diabolical intrusion, as Paul had found a Native American psychiatrist, a former Chief mind you, that took him to Catholic Mass one day; next, let the budding barber build his foundation on the ROCK, getting baptized by water; then, his first Holy Communion, eating the true flesh of Christ.
   It wasn't that the invention of therapy was nefarious, yet it explained the supernatural through the weakness of science, which constantly changes, while God does not.  The bad hombres don't want people to know their leader exists, a great trick, or they're unaware themselves, pursuing a life of lascivious lusts and cruelty--they won't believe and give verbal or spiritual glory to the champion of God--the Christ.
   Anyway, Paul had made up with his sister, and while she lived outside of the Arkansas perimeter, he still pen wrote her letters of appreciation, but didn't kiss too much sibling ass, having that edge, knowing not even angels deserve as much praise as the Trinity, though part of it themselves, from a certain perspective concerning the Holy Spirit Itself.
   So, as Paul had tested Max's spirit--he knew she was a lady he could trust; hence, he would take an innocent shower with her, be polite and adore her; next, if futurity had scripted it--ask for her loving hand in the super-mundane act of matrimony.     

Hey Chief (7)

   
   "Hey Chief (7)"
    
   Beauteous Max and mild-mannered Paul enjoyed the flickering candlelight and frozen lasagna, but Paul had no wine, and they drank tap water; however, he did have ice cubes for some "splash" in his mini-fridge.  EDDIE THE EAGLE was an inspiring movie about a determined dreamer and a washed-up lush resurrecting his potential.  Anyway, after ejecting the DVD, Max snuggled in close to Paul and injected her tongue under his manly mustache--right into his shocked mouth.  The dude kissed her back for a while; next, pushed away and explained his desire concerning the relationship.

PAUL
I do wish to engage you in intercourse; however, not this night, but I'm okay to show you myself naked, so you can see the goods.

MAX
Snorted a giggle.  Do you want to see my goods?  Ran a hand through her butterscotch pixie cut.  I can see your Rosary over there, and your Crucifix over yonder; plus, can tell that you're an honest and nice guy.  So, I can wait.  But you're kinda Old Testament, huh?

PAUL
Not particularly.  In fact, Christ's words are more terrifying; moreover, He gets most of his material from the Old Testament, quoting Isaiah, David, other Psalms, and all the rest.  Too, He talks about the winnowing fork used to separate the wheat from the chaff, a pitchfork.  And Saint John further goes onto to display that a life without repentance is not healthy, but eternally damaging to the soul.  

MAX
Yeah, Jesus can be scary.  But isn't that the point?

PAUL
He was no Elmer Gantry--those who can't do, teach.  He was pure light and salt.  

MAX
So, how long do you wanna wait to make love?

PAUL
We'll know.  Now, let's take a ride on my motorcycle.  Plenty of wildlife to see, and I can go slow or fast.

MAX 
Smiled.  Sounds like a good start.  

Hey Chief (6)

   
   "Hey Chief (6)"
   
   Paul was hanging out at Trevor's, informing his singular friend about the upcoming date he had with the lovely and statuesque Max.  The dandy barber had already gotten a copy of Eddie the Eagle from the local Redbox machine and placed it in his saddle bags that hung over his dual action Honda 250; plus, purchased a frozen lasagna, some nice plastic plates with plastic forks and knives; also, a few candles to set a somewhat romantic atmosphere; however, being the ascetic Catholic that he was, he didn't know how he felt about laying the lascivious pipe.
   As a result, he inquired upon Trevor for wisdom, but all the perverted dude offered was:  "Get some."
   Paul continued on about his lifelong dedication to Catholicism, and Trevor stated:  "Hell, be a Christian first.  Just give all the sin to Jesus--that's what he's there for."
   It sounded like cheating to Paul, the entire Protestant approach, forgetting the sacrifices of Saints and Angels that would not become fallible; regardless, he considered Trevor's advice; next, placed some peach chaw between his lip and gum, voicing:  "Okay my man--I hear ya.  But I'll play it as my conscience tells me.  As Obi-Wan told Luke--you must do what you feel is RIGHT of course."
   Trevor back with:  "Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster between your legs."
   Paul grinned, grasping Trevor's uncouth style; nevertheless, Paul knew who he was; moreover, what he was about; plus, that the Kingdom of Heaven was in the midst of him.  He would do things the right way.  

1978 - Theme Song - Barney Miller by Jack Elliott

Hey Chief (5)

   
   "Hey Chief (5)"
   
   Max and Paul had ignited a protracted conversation over her repeatedly bringing him more and more sunny-side up eggs.  Paul knew never to order scrambled, for they could drop them on the floor; next, scoop them right up and you'd never know.  Anyway, he kept re-ordering the eggs to talk to Max, and had gotten her name by now, and she his.  Feeling the axiomatic connection the twosome had for one another, Max took her break, sitting across from Paul in the booth, and they chatted it up.  

MAX
Your mustache is a paragon.

PAUL
Liked her Waffle House vocabulary.  I'm a barber--it's a bit of dandyism on my part.

MAX
Yeah, you're a sharp dresser too.  Most folks in these parts are all blue jeans and flannel.

PAUL
I've thought about it--I do use chaw--got some red on my neck.

MAX
We all do around here.  Hell, it's Arkansas.

PAUL
That's what they keep telling me; anyway, I'm not exactly a lady's man, but you sure got some sincere beauty about you.  Would you like to rent Eddie the Eagle at a Redbox and watch it with me at my trailer?

MAX
Blushed, having hoped for a date question.  I'm not easy, but a guy as neatly attired as you displays merit.  I'd love to hang with you Paul.

   The suave synergy of the two souls exchanged numbers, and the date was set.  

Simon

Hey Chief (4)

   
   "Hey Chief (4)"
   
   Maxine, or "Max" as she was called, worked the night-shift at a Waffle House in El Dorado, Arkansas--a modest city in the Hog Heaven State.  Max was a welcoming waitress, having a butterscotch nimbus fashioned by way of a pixie cut, and was as pretty as pearls.  
   It was just another mundane night of county cops, miscreants, and your garden-variety vampires; however, one tall, wiry man sauntered in, and he was all mustache--a total cowboy-styled dirt squirrel or cookie duster atop his full and kissable lips--if she would have been the neurotic George from the 90's show Seinfeld, she would've blurted:  "LOOK JERRY!  HE'S ALL MUSTACHE!"
   But she wasn't neurotic, into the paranormal, nor had any affiliation with organized religion--just a young lady attempting to get by in this sometimes cruel America.  So, she gently approached him with a sparkle in her emerald-green eyes, asking:  "Where would you like to sit sir?"
   Paul immediately felt the electricity of mystical love pulse through his thoracic cavity, feeling like he was going to have a panic attack upon viewing such an "up close" beauty, but kept his composure cool; next, calmly said:  "I'll take a booth."  Then, Max elegantly turned and led him--Paul's eyes glued to her golden legs steered by Reebok sneakers.