Liberty's Sparkle (71)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (71)"
   
   The everlasting charity of Liberty afforded Bobby Rook and herself a microwave oven; moreover, she picked up some TV Dinners at the grocery market she worked at--turkey and stuffing with cranberries for the upcoming celebration of Thanksgiving.  She wondered if these cheap, low class meals would flare up Bobby Rook's Ulcerative Colitis and cause him to bleed a fecal matter river; also, was reminded of ZZ TOP and their 1980's music video TV DINNERS, which her Dad had made her watch for hilarious kicks, but now she was freaked, feeling in her own gut that they would totally ignite intestinal inflammation for Bobby Rook and his tender tummy; regardless, she brought them home, saying a prayer over them, having hope; plus, faith.
   Bobby Rook was sitting on the mobile home's front steps, Spanky alongside his wiry form.  Bobby Rook looked so alone and lost, yet still tough as Christ's nails.  How to live she wondered, without being able to have normal sex and crapping bloody, loose stool on an almost perpetual basis?  Her heart beat love and mercy for the cool and mysterious man, him not seeming to really give a rat's ass about his serious medical condition, that much, just coping in chronic silence.
   She remembered reading about the Egyptian god Anubis in one of her science fiction novels, something she hadn't been doing lately; anyway, it said that Anubis, having a canine, jackal-like head would weigh the hearts of dead people--if your heart was lighter than a feather; next, you lived forever.  But if it was hard and heavy, the news from the god was not good.  She hoped she was lighthearted.  Too, she knew Bobby Rook's heart was still beating, and she liked that fact of life, for he was a pretty cool guy.

Liberty's Sparkle (70)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (70)"
   
   The luminosity of lovely Liberty and the metaphysical mystery of Bobby Rook lay in their bunk bed, him atop, reading pulp fiction; specifically, an urban fantasy tale popular with the kids of today, having an internal itch that something more than the mainstream media was affecting their spiritual vibrations; regardless, her on the bottom bunk, petting Spanky, but not heavily; anyway, the conversation ignited.

ROOK
So, you were married?

LIBERTY
You would've liked Tom.  Had OCD with Tics, like hyperactivity of the basal ganglia; next, it got cancerous, and all was gone, but he lives on, in Papa's Arms.

ROOK
I can dig it.  Catholic--like me.  Suffering--like me.  My ex-wife and son were my life, but when we'd wake up, she'd see all the blood on the bed and freak out; next, I lost my testicle.  And Wikipedia is full of shit.  People with Ulcerative Colitis do require blood transfusions--I've had two.  

LIBERTY
Does it hurt?

ROOK
Like someone stabbing me in the right side of my abdomen.  And painkillers are hated by the government.  Was on opiates for two years, never abused, never chased the dragon, just wanted peace, not euphoria; still, assholes chase the high, and us in pain get screwed by a government ruled by an underground force.  And I never looked on the street for heroin or crap like that, just took Tylenol, and dealt with it.  

LIBERTY
Herb for the service of man said King David.

ROOK
Israel has like twenty strains of medical cannabis, knowing the truth.  But no one here gives a shit; anyway, it sucks to be sick.  Wish I was normal, could have a wife and child, work a job, and do the bullshit American thing.  People called me a pillhead, all types of bullying and shit.  Totally screw them.  Karma comes back.  God will haunt those assholes in hell, not that I want that, for I believe in the Son of Man, Christ, not the Son of a reptilian, but truly, the Son of Man, like Ezekiel knew when he saw the Four Living Creatures with many facial features.

LIBERTY
So you are truly Catholic, Rook?

ROOK
I honor the angels and saints.  Of course that makes me Catholic.  Martin Luther got rid of invocation to beauty, and look at Protestantism--splintering into a myriad of differences.  Calvin was no Aquinas.  Tebow is the only Protestant I trust.

LIBERTY
Amen.  Played like nine NFL games, started as Quarterback that is, and won seven.  Lost to the Patriots after butt-whooping the Steelers in the play-offs.  People don't want God--they want money.

ROOK
Hell, it's America.  The dollar is God.  

Strawberry Moon: June 20, 2016

    
   "Strawberry Moon:  June 20, 2016"
   
   The Full Moon will glow with effulgent sparkle and strength tonight.  In America, it is known as the Strawberry Moon since the Algonquin Tribes pictured it as a time to gather the special fruit--back then, the strawberry harvest being short and widely revered.
   In Europe, it is known as the Rose Moon, a popular time for couples to engage in wedlock.  
   Regardless, the mystical underground assumes werewolves less aggressive, even the purely nefarious lycanthropes, for the strawberry fairies are out in grand abundance, and fairies can enchant, or even doom, if not respected and revered--so goes the myth of it all; furthermore, the only mythical thing about the word MYTH is that it is MYTH--get me?  
   Some have eyes to see and ears to hear; on the flip side, whispers in the darkness can cause lack of faith and cruel judgement.  We have forgotten God, and now, He might trumpet:  "My creation, My creation, why hast thou forsaken Me!"  Yet when King David and Christ uttered these types of words, people still believed, their pineal glands not calcified and hazed to stupefaction by electronic devices and unhealthy diets.  
   So goes the Strawberry Full Moon of June!    

Liberty's Sparkle (69)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (69)"
   
   Liberty and the sickly Bobby Rook found a nice mobile home community near Whitefish.  It was mainly a ski resort location in Montana, housing around 7,000 people.  Their place was more than modest, having a taste of Franciscan humility, and the first thing Bobby Rook did was hang a crucifix on the wall; next, the twosome got a futon, a bunk bed, and a black and white television; plus, a transistor radio, and a little fridge.
   The food was mostly in cans.  Liberty thought:  "My gosh, I can't get away from cans."
   So, she loaded up on Ramen Noodles, and of course--dog food for Spanky; also, plenty of bottled water and green tea to mix it with.  Liberty slept on the bottom bunk with Spanky, while Bobby Rook tossed and turned above with unearthly abdominal pain at night, sometimes begging for death, or like Spider-Man, having great agility at jumping off and running to the bathroom, where he would evacuate bloody stool.  He didn't know how much longer before they gutted him.  
   Liberty helped him find a Doc, and they afforded some medicine that helped, slightly.
   All in all--it was home.  Liberty finding another grocery store to work at, and yes, more cans, stocking the shelves in a perpetual state of tedious boredom:  baked beans, baked beans with savory Texas flavor, baked beans with pork, baked beans in hickory smoke flavoring, baked beans with crispy bacon.
   Unfortunately, Bobby Rook couldn't eat beans, for they cut through his colon like a chainsaw; otherwise, like the coyote being hunted relentlessly, they were surviving.  

Liberty's Sparkle (68)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (68)"
   
   Bobby Rook's bafflement further pressing upon his diseased body, offering cerebral confusion; next, Liberty, like a holy angel, stepped out of the tent, Spanky next to her, yawing saliva; then, finding an energy-granting tree, and lifting his territorial leg.  Anyway, Liberty's bare feet crunched over the Earth's surface till upon Bobby Rook, and as if telepathically reading his mind, she put a loving grip upon his wiry shoulder, saying:  "God is not the author of confusion."
   Bobby Rook stood up, slowly, having great pains in his gut; specifically, the lower right side of his abdomen; nevertheless, he got his corporeal counterpoise, and standing straight, looked upon Liberty's enchanted-green eyes lit by the Moon, stating:  "You really do have a gift."
   Liberty back with:  "I wish it would grant me some money." 
   Bobby Rook saying:  "But you have enough; plus, so much more."
   Liberty replied:  "It's just nice to have TRUE friends."
   Bobby Rook smiled, gently; next, Spanky joined the twosome in their caring and affectionate embrace.  

Liberty's Sparkle (67)

   
   "Liberty's Sparkle (67)"
    
   Saint Raphael, the physician of God, had departed from the mysterious Bobby Rook; however, the Arch-Angel took his prayers to the Father, Saint Raphael being One of the Divine Seven Who stand before the Throne of Him; regardless, Bobby Rook was made holy steel, like the monks before him, having the Iron Grip; plus, the Dim Mak of retaliation against the furious foes of injustice.
   But Bobby Rook wouldn't use it, turning his cheek, yet rebuking his brother, him not certified concerning being obedient to adhering towards the holy reins of God testing the righteous, yet Bobby Rook did, letting his master dominate his smooth couthness, as it is suggested.
   And that big neon glitter above the sacred camping ground, not being Spinoza-like Pantheism, or the bullshit of being a photon floating forever, yet a healed soul, saved from the scar of reptilian torture, so divine, so divine.
   All Bobby Rook knew was that Liberty was an allegorical Buffy the Vampire Slayer, freeing the demons from man, doing the just justice, and allowing him the jocularity of giving her an eternal grin towards the Face of Heaven, and a Holy King, His Feet positioned upon Terra's enchanted yet evacuated dream of angels and demons, having peace.  

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