Kooky Lucy Frost (14)--fight to the end, wussy

    
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (14)--fight to the end, wussy"
   
   Kooky Lucy was unique.  Not like the masses of the proud and self-impressed.  She was not an island unto them; on the contrary, she was a sub-continent of survival.  And she knew it, deep down, like the brats craving a cervix' blunt pain to remind them of a molesting father or molesting Internet.
   Pap greeted Lucy, along with a tail-wagging Cleveland as she entered HER house.  They exchanged pleasantries; next, Pap took a seat with her, sparked a cherry, let the purifying smoke cleanse his internal aspects, and exhaled his prayers to the celestial heavens--life is bigger than your pride, boy.
   He went on to tell her about Grandma.  How the physician of God, Saint Raphael has a sense of humor.  How Grandma was never a burden.  If a sick person becomes a burden; then, the axiom wends your way, meaning:  YOU ARE THE SICK PERSON!
   Said he wouldn't have her in a monkey-blooded nursing home, where you get bloody enemas, no love, no sacrifice, as the workers are paid to kill--Bounty Hunters for the disabled.  Unless it is Nun Nurses--the real ones, that get none, but give all.  There is beauty in ugliness.  The Greatest beauty, while those full of pride and arrogance, crafting forked-tongued fraud, do so for their own elation.
   Pap further went to say being sick is a blessing--if you repent and get your selfish act in order; on the other hand, if you blame God, or say it is too difficult, He will allow you to know that you are a bestial brat, monkey-blooded, and easily cloned.  
   "So, Grandma gave me headaches.  Why make life easy?  Hell comes easy.  Heaven doesn't."