Ash Heap Hound (20)

   
   "Ash Heap Hound (20)"

   I couldn't have been happier for Zoe and Conner--my little girl, always; plus, Conner--a nice, shy kid with a sweet set of wheels, and his baggage was zipped, very tight; however, I knew that when the rest of us slept he tore his garments, was tormented, and would never have made it without the united synergy of Zoe and her American Foxhound self--and they say opposites attract, yeah, maybe to kill each other.
   It was nice too, to have Zoe home.  She didn't mean to always be the rebel and not give love to her mother before the lady passed into the Otherworld; specifically, Zoe was a hypochondriac since the conception of her own consciousness.  And when you are a hypochondriac, you have every mental and supernatural disorder in the book.  It ultimately morphed her into an American Foxhound--even my mind has bent all the spoons in our kitchen drawer, and I wasn't even trying.
   So, before you turn your back on somebody, or bully, or think you're being clever, well, go ahead--do it.  You'll get yours in ways never perceived.  And if not, maybe a family member.  Be cruel and lazy about someone's asymmetrical self, and next:  a tumor on you or a loved one's nutsack, and you know how it feels, but because you're nasty, and ultra-sleazy with a non-standard porn collection, watching young girls embarrass themselves, not empower themselves, for money, that great American prize, putting people into public office, but death awaits with a smile for those folks--yes, He loves us, but every Creator can become bitter at the selfishness of His Creations, letting you think you're winning; next, BAM!!!  It hits you, but as justice, not like the sublime trial of Tobias.  And there was a dog in his story too, gotta love it.   Then again--I could be wrong, or not.