Existence Womb (46)

   
   "Existence Womb (46)"
    
   Miriam gleefully glided in Vermont-like snowshoes till untied inside, the sporty antiquity of Air-Eskimo.  She engaged in eager embrace of both Dad and Buck, making darn sure to give Buck's clean and lean arms an extra passion:  "I dig you baby--this is why I'm squeezing."
    
BUCK
You're the best Miriam.  Your Dad and me--we're going to protect you--praecaveo.
   
MIRIAM
You're so weird, silly, with that Latin and all.
   
LUKE
With regret in his physician's orbs.  Miriam, I must, with surgical compulsion, extract the implant behind your ear.  It might terrify and be traumatic, a bit of magnetic-like hatred of separated forces, as many-a-Gnostic cried when cutting carrots that they knew shrieked in veggie speech, or something; regardless, it must be done to protect and shield you from technological monitoring or even the possibility of terrorist TURN ON.
   
MIRIAM
Why so spooky guys?  Do this to me--now!!!

Existence Womb (45)

   
   "Existence Womb (45)"
      
Merrymaking Miriam made snow angels upon the snowy turf--so powder white,
Wishing she could morph angelic and ascend--given corporeal wings for seraphic flight;
Meanwhile, Buck and Luke observed through a foggy window, them deep into Moosehead beer--
Feeling nothing ominous or odd was Buck's telepathy--Luke's mind free of weird or queer;
Regardless, the Catholic Werewolf Monk did telepathically absorb that Luke wanted control,
As if the good doctor wanted to dominate what his daughter had been taxed with by reptilian toll;
Alas, he was her biological father and had smoothly positioned her into a frozen prairie of safety,
And didn't give her a hoydenish name like Lucy Lacy;
Still, Buck desired to be fully inserted though he was fanged divine,
Knowing:  Miriam was through with a mostly paralyzed life; plus, so young, vibrant, and fine.   

Existence Womb (44)

   
   "Existence Womb (44)"
     
   The threesome, on the outskirts of bucolic Calgary, cozy comfort blazing with the southern element of fire burning brightly, that secret heat of healing blue hidden within the fiery flames of what might be called "devil colors" and all; regardless, it warmed them.
   Miriam and Buck in thick-knitted socks and new attire.  Back in The Last Great Place, Montana--they stopped at Walmart, and for under 100 Benjamin Pics, were able to afford economical armor for the arctic-like conditions, many a time really, for Calgary, a region that was like a frozen-like, fertile steppe, the grasslands always brewing, and all of them, with honey drizzle atop their icy mugs of Moosehead, being American yet entertaining new Canadian ideas concerning their whereabouts.  Yes Miriam was underage, but they did christen her with John Barleycorn re-birthed.   
   And while they did get a fantastic bargain on their clothing--if pants, shirts, and coats were made in China; next, maybe a thoracic or genital mutation after years or days of wear, whatever.  "Made in China" does not always mean BullShit, for to go to War with them, in another World Conflict--this would make ISIL appear nothing more than a haunting specter, able to hurt, but not the modern catastrophe of it all burning with a nuclear wheeze, not a whimper.    

Existence Womb (43)

    
   "Existence Womb (43)"
    
Past the drama with Divine Dexterities--who needs the conversational hiccup of drama?
Miriam ran through the ankle-deep snow to lovingly embrace her Dad in his portion of pajama.
No--she no longer possessed the corporeal aspects of mamma kin,
Yet was elegantly allowed the bizarre sin that is matrimonial sex, like angels dancing on a pin--
Are kids not born into sin--some into a reptilian hex?
Is it not for most:  A mess does get cheap sex?   
But now in Canada and documents to prove,
Though the Boss 302 needed chains during the Alberta groove;
However, rear end torque coming out of the hole,
Could push that Beast to the North Pole,
And things like Santa were so alive to mirth-dreaming Miriam,
For to have a father so professional; plus, without a bit of carnal delirium.    

Existence Womb (42)

   
   "Existence Womb (42)"
    
   Merry Miriam and second-guessing Buck, along with all their metaphysical weaponry and archaic, theological texts, were loaded in the fully restored Boss 302, from the sexually-seeming, very late Sixties--the twosome merged with the angry automobile, rambled, sometimes eloquently, rolling balanced down the beauty of an asphalt ballet, dirty dancing with moments of terrifying guy-power--low-end torque I'm talking; next, hands-on-the-wheel steady, like Werewolf cruise control.
   A mysterious clad man, such as G. Gordon Liddy working for the Nixon Alien Division back in his day, when Jackie Gleason saw the bodies of dead angels after a golfing game with the neurotic Nixon; anyway, the man, a delirious display of spookishness, was overheard by Miriam, saying to Buck:  "Your Canadian documents are all there.  Too, everything electronic is kosher."
   And Miriam thought--maybe a Jewish Vampire.  Nah, werewolves didn't mix with morphine-driven (the yummy blood-lust) of multi-fanged murderers; regardless, she had her interrogative probes fireworking off in her sonic, youthful mind; nevertheless, she just held onto Buck as he worked the manual transmission, hugging harder with every shift of Classic Muscle Car.    

Existence Womb (41)

   
   "Existence Womb (41)"   
   
Under scrotal anguish, Buck pondered:  "How can heretical hooligans call Catholics Legalists?"
When Baby Messiah with pneumatic-pocket fold fits into Ricky Bobby's Ballad of Jesus?
Regardless, Buck had Honored and Revered with a Willed pommel-gripping fist,
Finding not Divine Nature, but the might of a Blessed Virgin's right to appear in sacred mist;
Plus, used fangs (Buck did) and the wolf hide of a God-Protected fury,
Always with ascetic-styled prayer--never in a Hermes-Driven hurry, 
But knew Ubiquitous Truth rested not in a creation hijacked by a seeming angel or brother,
Yet to have the Ear of God as does Christ's Inviolate Mother--
Rambling--V-8, gallop gallantly Sir Buck, have no Malus animus he Totally knew,
Yet with Miriam's breasts like symmetrical melons and his centuries of a vow--this was blue--
A bad shade, not the healing hue,
Of the entire Holy Spirit, before the Rainbow was sexualized and the World had a clue--
But no man needs my indignation,
And Buck believed in the potency of every undocumented human species in every Nation.   

Existence Womb (40)

    

   "Existence Womb (40)"

   Buck Pewter felt overwhelmed.  Almost torn to pieces by alien, angel-like toads, his wolf healing quickly though; still, it bothered him, without a true pack; regardless, he had too much on his plate, went to complaining, remembering Christ's kinda/sorta offering of a mercy deal:   "Father, if You are willing, take this cup from me."  But remembering, let the Father's Will be done--never yours.  And slaves obey your masters?   Didn't God free the slaves out of Egypt?  Of course Buck went to better than Sunday School; nevertheless, a small group of slaves accept the Torah, the Law, after IT being refused by so many others, yet the Hebrews chose this, this God of the desert, so to speak, and BANGO--they're freed by the most potent of magic.  The differences between King David and Jesus' purity also confusing.  Maybe the balance of it all.  Maybe the Southern Baptists and their love of Zionism, depending boldly on the Old Testament as well.  Polytheism exists.  At least that's clearly explained.  Numerous creature features in the Multiverse and behind it, here, our Universe, and Buck feeling so dumb and yet determined to never touch Miriam again.  To not break his vows to the Black Madonna, which he knelt before so many times during Templar days.  And now--in love?  For Christ's sake.  He was an old yet very young and svelte man.  Miriam awoke next to him in the Mr. T van--he just finished a piece of spicy beef jerky.

MIRIAM
Slept like an angel.  What about you Buck?
  
BUCK
I really love you Miriam.  And it scares the pits of Pandemonium into me.  And here I am, thinking of sexuality and Protestantism.

MIRIAM
What, you off your medicine, silly?