Existence Womb (62)

   
   "Existence Womb (62)"
     
   Miriam and Buck were playfully throwing snowballs at one another, no rocks inside, a few hundred feet from the shanty, where Luke slept heavily within after imbibing too much Crown Royal.
   The twosome were still a bit romantic, yet robotic when it came to touching, as if a greater force of sublimity was somewhat frowning upon their possible carnal intentions.  As they giggled and goofed off, a brilliant blue light, like shimmering azure ignited the outskirts of their Calgary location, floating till upon them; next, manifesting itself into the form of a 7 foot tall Nordic humanoid, golden-yellow cascading from his glimmering face made effulgent by arctic-blue eyes.  The twosome immediately got statue-like, feeling reverence and unearthly awe.  Buck was like:  "Leave now Miriam.  Leave now!"   And without hesitation, she obediently departed, curious, but aware that the supernatural is all-encompassing.
   The huge Nordic male spoke to Buck, voicing:  "You have done well for centuries and way way beyond.  Your book is written by the Almighty God, and you have not wended phobic, but engaged your destiny as caretaker."
   Buck bowed his head:  "What now?"
   The golden angel continued:  "Miriam is not to be touched, as your conscience has fed you this instinct.  Possibly, in futurity, by your heart and hand.  Just guard her with your life, for they are coming.  All the tinkering the physician has done will not mask her whereabouts; hence, prepare yourself for war.  War for the fate of a virgin, Miriam.  God's Book will no longer be deleted and edited by iniquity.  Fate can be spited, yet your brave intolerance towards nefarious entities grants you intrinsic courage to muster might and be her shield."
   Buck was like:  "When?"
   The angel offered:  "Like when knowing Gabriel--always keep an eye on God's Message.  Make yourself a child, yes.  But innocence can grow angry and defensive.  Do your job Templar.  As it is written."
   

Existence Womb (61)

   
   "Existence Womb (61)"
    
   Miriam entered the shanty, sauntering with a more supreme reverence for life; plus, that of the Holy Trinity, including the Angels and Saints.  She had extinguished her cigarette in the ankle-deep snow, saying a silent invocation to Saint Francis and Chief Mojo Rising for the litter; still, Smokey Bear had reminded her:  "At times like this, even you cannot produce forest fires."  Moreover, she was surrounded by fields of frozen prairie, and was content with her mild misdemeanor.
   Buck and Dad (Luke) greeted her with bright smiles and vociferous optimism, Buck hurrying to unload the groceries from the beast-like Boss 302.  Luke sat Miriam down, brewing her some green tea to offer anti-oxidants; plus, give her a boost of natural energy and life-long longevity.  They talked hockey for a bit, Miriam still confused, only knowing you put the puck in that goal or the other; next, a fight might break out, unleashing punch-out passion for the fans.
   Buck entered, put the groceries away, and used his telepathy in a sincerely sublime sense to know what his little girlfriend was pondering--as her protector, he had a right to sometimes monitor and guard her thoughts.  
   Luke continued on talking, engaging his daughter in symposium concerning mundane things, and reminded her of America's possible magnanimous echo, mentioning that baseball season would start in the Spring, which was right around the corner, not minding to mention the Blue Jays.  He wasn't fond of bigger birds that preyed on baby eggs; regardless, Miriam was having reverie of her deceased mother, and knew that the Blue Jay, like a wolf, while sometimes demonized, offered much sublimity due to their wisely-forged Animal Totems by Indians robbed of a land that never even belonged to them, but them to the land--servants and protectors of Terra.   

G. Gordon Liddy, Robert Conrad, & My Dad

   
   "G. Gordon Liddy, Robert Conrad, & My Dad"
    
   G. Gordon Liddy's tough guy autobiography, WILL, was morphed into a 1982 television movie staring the barrel-chested Robert Conrad. most famous for BAA BAA BLACKSHEEP, a fighter pilot story during the Second World War on a Pacific Island.  Plus, both guys were bad asses.  Just wanted to mention my hard-hitting father, a college football player, him having once threatened to punch me out when I was in my early 30's due to an insult aimed at the Pittsburgh Steelers.
   Anyhow, this is not a piece of pulsating prose or in any way poetic.  "Just the facts ma'am" as wends the words from DRAGNET.
   But Robert Conrad was on the LATE LATE SHOW in the early 90's hosted by comb-over cool guy Tom Snyder, when you could let the colors of ancient television fly into your home, offering simplistic entertainment before Internet Porn became all the rage with local politicians and troublesome teenagers.
   Robert, or Bob as Mr. Tom Snyder called him, fiercely boasted that when he came to New York, he liked to walk Central Park at night in hopes of getting mugged, all to see if his skills in the Martial Arts were still uncanny, making him the ultimate human fighting machine.  Tom Snyder was laughing his ass off, as was the whole behind-the-scenes crew.
   Next, Snyder asked Bob:  "What's it like to punch out a guy?"
   Bob replied roughly:  "It's like knocking one out of the park."
   The Show erupted in wild giggling.   

Existence Womb (60)

   
   "Existence Womb (60)"
    
   Buck and Dr. Luke noticed Miriam sitting in the hungry Boss 302, it rumbling at a standstill, her smoking a dancing cherry and engaged in prayer, possibly mystical communication too, which transcends prayer, in a sense.  As they looked out the shanty window, their hearts were made Christian Gold, having great empathy for the sufferings of the young girl.
   
LUKE
I think she has been through plenty; nevertheless, she is brave, holding up like a divinely defensive stronghold.

BUCK
I've seen plenty of shit in life Doc.  Remember being a Yankee Soldier during the Vicksburg Campaign, during Grant's Yazoo Pass Expedition, which ultimately put William Tecumseh Sherman on an ironclad, passing through the cut of Moon Lake--highly classified.  I don't have to read modern metaphysical books to know that Sherman with his "Scorched Earth" policies was something Otherworldly, possibly a werewolf.  But like what Bush said about Putin when he had him at the ranch, and they shot guns and drank Bud Heavy, offering:  "And I looked into his eyes, and knew he was a religious man." 
  
LUKE
But surely Sherman was a garden-variety werewolf, not having the sublimity of the Holy Spirit.

BUCK
Never can tell, as Jack Burton always wisely blurted.  Yup--never can tell.    

Existence Womb (59)

   
   "Existence Womb (59)"
   
    Snow was crisply falling in unique-styled flakes.  Miriam was weeping.  The Boss 302 rumbling at an angry idle.  Who was she kidding?  The Virgin Mary?  Miriam knew that she, herself, was no Saint, especially not the Queen of Angels.   
   Regardless, in physics, "Superpositioning" is being in many places at once.  Christ was potent and powerful, yet is He truly ubiquitous?  Could He be in all places at once?  Hear every prayer?
   Thus, if He could not, which is theoretically possible in theology; next, maybe the myriad of Angels and Saints could listen--give that holy ear and offer a vociferous request to the Christ, His Father, and the Highly Mysterious Holy Spirit--so not worshiped and neglected, but full of LOVE and constant gifts of spiritual benevolence.
   Miriam remembered Buck calling It Spiritus Sancti--the Good/Holy Ghost.  As a result of this sublime reverie, Miriam lit a hypertoxic cigarette in the warm muscle car, glared at the shanty and her bizarre life; then, prayed to the Holy Spirit.  Asking the Good Ghost to make her life more full of magnanimous engagement--helping and assisting other freaks like herself.  All in the holy style of mercy.   

Existence Womb (58)

   
   "Existence Womb (58)"
   
    Miriam was in a cerebral fog as she nervously piloted the powerful Boss 302 through the fluff of snow, exiting Calgary, on the glacial prairie path towards the fancy shanty she shared with her brave father and Buck, the Templar werewolf, animated to change by way of the sublimity of the Holy Spirit--hey, fangs can be a benevolent thing, at certain times of violent contagion.
   Anyway, she was freaked by her conversation with Brother Puck, and how he appeared out of nowhere.  For nobody was supposed to know of their habitat location, way up here, Northwards; moreover, the death of Christ was freaking her too.  Are Christians painted with a bloody target on their backs by the negativity of the fallen angel, now the adder?  And she thought of the Virgin Mary's suffering, watching Her Son tortured till a painful culmination of His corporeal self--for the possible phase of the time being.  
   Does anybody use the ANGELUS, that Catholic devotion celebrating the miraculous and unearthly Incarnation?  And how Saint Mary was visited by a linguistically cool Arch-Angel named Gabriel, and maybe more supernatural beings from the Celestial Hierarchy if we look into the non-canonized Gospels, such as the Protoevangelium--it also called the Gospel of James, or the Gospel of Mary, these texts leaving hints at Her potent power during early adolescence.  
   Regardless, Miriam must steel herself Maryways, getting her pestering hormones away from Buck's lean body mass, and becoming more like a peasant girl with uncanny greatness, Her bravely enduring the death of Her Savior Child.  

Existence Womb (57)

   
   "Existence Womb (57)"   
    
   Miriam, the very cold, Calgary bag boy nicely packing her Boss 302 and politely exiting, ignited a cherry of a coffin nail, inhaling the sacred toxicity; next, noticed a haunting specter of the past, Brother Puck, a big load of tobacco behind his puffy lip.   
   
MIRIAM
WTF?
   
BROTHER PUCK
You know how John Barleycorn died?  A glorious yeast infection!  Bacchus was not the true god of wine; Christ is the GOD of new wine.  Old wine skins cannot hold His New Wine.  And He says:  "I am thirsty."  Yes, upon His immortal death.  Once, in America, a woman called 9/11 to report her irritating and manic yeast infection.  Too, I've had a saliva duct stone, epididymitis, and mushrooms growing out of my crapper.  They were not magic mushrooms; I didn't attempt to imbibe them.  Yes, I don't have Sleep Paralysis like you, my mystical Miriam.  But I've endured harshly.  Done it smoothly and bravely.  Remember the Christ's vocal landmark of a vociferous, Universal Church reporting:  "He was obedient, even unto death."
  
MIRIAM
   Squinted hesitation futureways.