Crystalline Cool (7)

   
   "Crystalline Cool (7)"
   
   Duncan returned home to the mundane modesty of it all, yet as the Moon did offer a New and changing perspective, the mysticism of his beautifully bizarre life ignited--Roadkill jumping upon his chest for a doggy embrace as he exited the El Camino, and Dad, puffing away on his Dominican Republic cigar ordered off the Internet, smiling under a night sky only ornamented in the constellations that once offered Ronald Reagan the courage to speak the truth of things beyond the nature of man.
   After some heavy petting on Roadkill and innocent licks from the dog's slobbery love, Duncan approached his father, sitting next to him on a futon out upon their redneckish front yard, the old, mature-looking man, steeled by years of existence, crafted by God's Divine Hand, and armed with a sense of jocular joy probed his son's night out with a girl, like this:  "Was it better than that time you fornicated with a seedless watermelon?"
   Duncan blushed:  "Dad, I told the Priest about that at Confession.  Why are you giving me the business?"
   The old man laughed, saying:  "Oh Duncan, my child, how you loved your mother while all the rest ran, living their lives while you transformed yours--you took a beating, yet God spanks all of his children, though from now on--you'll only get a time-out."
   "You're such a sage Dad."  Duncan said, blushing.
   His Dad puffed away; next, stated:  "The Book of Life has already been written, and sometimes God rereads it; thus, time is relative, and there are funny stories, for some pursue that witch-scorned look of a man having a selfish discharge into his own jubilation, yet others suffer with the Saints, and those fools for Christ give the downtrodden water; then, Jesus gives them a hundred cups in the Heavens."
   "Have you been drinking tonight Dad?"  Duncan asked.
   His Dad blew a symmetrical smoke ring, saying:  "No firewater tonight; plus, I never wear a mask, you know that, or speak bravely of myself, yet lock my prayers in a secret chamber, unlike the hypocrites wanting to be seen giving false praises in public, while a dog gallantly poops underneath the Sun, and your mother used to lock the bathroom door when she made a bowel evacuation--that poor, nervous woman."
   Duncan laughed so hard his belly felt warm and cozy.