Loup Soup (7)

   
   "Loup Soup (7)"
   
   Jasper's effluvious self was both sweet and spicy, making the only pussy he ever knew scatter away; indeed, Boxer was on the move, mousing, so to say--to get away.
   Zoanthropy is not common, not even for cats that are beyond and yet within this world; however, neither is celibacy; thus, the fear of the Virgin Mary, and the hatred of Christ.  Regardless, while the King James Version offers Saint John speaking of dogs not going to Heaven, he meant the humping and monstrously malodorous kind, stinking from an unclean spirit.  Pope Francis set us all straight on that one.
   So, Jasper felt the wolf pulse within; specifically, the lack of a heating system in his remote garage building offered him an allegorical coat of meditative insulation from the frigid air.  It was all he could do.  It's all some people can do.  And once heated, he dug into a can of beets, tearing them open with his teeth, further making himself lean and cleaned out.  Darn, he wanted that spicy mustard and some albacore.  Maybe that's why Boxer was really upset, making like Tom and taking a cruise.   
   

Loup Soup (6)

   
   "Loup Soup (6)"
   
   Indeed, like PREGO pasta sauce--it's in there.  Ninjutsu/Catholicism; plus, MKUltra and the Men in Black, controlled by non-sons of men; regardless, who was going to believe Jasper?  And he totally knew it.  Worked at a comic shop; moreover, could harness the abilities of the Canis lupus--it would be seen as bullshit.  But had buried documents, hand-crafted, all over his region of Nebraska--they would be unearthed someday, and priceless.
   In his crummy yet beloved garage building where he resided with his self-owning cat dubbed Boxer, he rubbed his Black Tourmaline, which was an approximate 7.5 on the Mohs scale, absorbing electromagnetic energy; however, he possessed nothing more than a scanner and transistor radio.
   Maybe he should tell Buster.  Guy was good-looking; thus, he should have no envy or jealousy, which drives the adders in angelic clothing to hate; nevertheless, they could have gotten to the Icelander.  They get to all of us, but not back when Lincoln was at the helm, though even he dabbled in pseudo-clairvoyance to help predict the Civil War's outcome, more than myriads of Yankee men perishing to free enslaved people, and they are never remembered.  Only the South still cares about that war--curious.   Ah, piss it all on an electric fence, like his teenage friend's father did, a Green Beret in Nam.  Had to get circumcised after that.  
   Jasper just started paging through his comic books, knowing nobody was to be trusted, or you trust who you have to.  Scrappy-Doo was never jealous of a bigger creature, or a smaller one.  Just had spunk and spirit.  Lucas' metaphor of Star Wars, yet we still don't listen.  

A Protestant attempts to get into Catholic School

   
   "A Protestant attempts to get into Catholic School"
   
   Brothers, us sons of men shouldn't fight.  Northern Ireland eventually grew.  As a Catholic kid I was baptized as a baby and had taken the Eucharist before adolescence--I figured I knew my place; next, I got sent to Southern Baptist School, where the King James Bible, lacking the Apocrypha, was the order of the day.  First hour of school, heavily read, though stumbling upon Luke's First Chapter, where the Virgin Mother proclaims:  "My soul doth magnify the Lord."  Next, She goes onto say Her Holy Soul will be remembered for every generation--and She is correct, sir.
   Anyway, they would always talk about Catholics, and especially Mary, with heavy suspicion.  My biological mother was on the horn every night fighting for me, and a teacher would take me outside of the classroom the next day, telling me that all Catholics aren't bad.
   Anyway, I still read the King James Bible for the poetry of it all.  But I eventually made it to Catholic School, and a kid from the Baptist School attempted to get in as well, for it was the most-respected school in the city of Little Rock, at the time.
   So, this very shy, Protestant kid goes into the chain-smoking Priest's office--Priests that smoke always keep their vows of celibacy, in my opinion.
   Anyway, the kid was nervous, not understanding the rituals and rich tradition of Catholicism; hence, he asked the Priest:  "Uh, what do I call you?"
   The hardcore Priest was armed with an ascetically wild sense of humor; moreover, he looked down upon the boy, his Roman Collar glistening in the light; next, he said:  "Boy, you call me God."
   But, in the end--we all got along.  

The Thing (1982) - The end?

Loup Soup (5)

   
   "Loup Soup (5)"
   
   The snow was falling in a mercurial whirlwind, and Buster decided to call it a day--no freaking customers either.  He gave Jasper the keys and told the dude to lock up; next, smiled as he offered him luck on navigating his motorcycle through the growing layers of snow.  Jasper didn't blink.
   He remembered Connery in Highlander, telling the Scotsman:  "Feel the moose!"
   Therefore, Jasper would "feel the wolf" so to speak, having dog in him, and knowing it.  A Gray Wolf (Canis lupus) has a smooth muscle system, and the cardiac muscle is linked to it; moreover, that spirited-heart has, sometimes, contractions that are tireless and fully automatic, keeping the wolf's heart beating at 120 beats every minute, so to speak.  And like most mammals, armed with a four chamber heart--it wasn't difficult for Jasper to tap into the loyal yet suspicious pathfinder; hence, he left his motorcycle anchored, knowing the Japanese machine was resilient enough to endure a brave snowfall; plus, no soul around here was going to thieve it away; as a result, he turned on the speed of a 40 MPH sprinting wolf, running through the snow with Saint John's spirit, the Disciple Christ loved, him outpacing Saint Peter to the empty tomb in a foot race, yet humble enough to wait for the ROCK before entering the site of a Holy Miracle.  
   Jasper was home swiftly, and made the Sign of the Cross over himself; plus, a bit pissed that he forgot to pick up any spicy mustard.  Too, Boxer the cat would not be happy.    

Big Trouble In Little China: It's All In The Reflexes

Loup Soup (4)

   
   "Loup Soup (4)"
   
   Buster was watching diligently as the snow fell outside of the comic shop, as if a man with eyes stuck in a glued-glare at the aquarium containing many fighting fish; nevertheless, able to multitask, his Icelandic brain remained with his buddy Jasper, and he asked him:  "You still combining Ninjutsu with Catholicism?  Getting the power of the Okami, though more crafty like the Kitsune, which of course would make you a Canis latrans--ya know:  an American Coyote."
   "Why do I tell you my secrets?"  Jasper thought as he paged through a Power Girl comic book, noticing her buxom barrage of beauty.  
   Buster continued:  "I know, Apollo Creed never told Rocky all his secrets when preparing him to battle Clubber Lang, but you howl quite a bit; still, you own a cat, which is very weird.  And that crescent moon necklace--all the signs are there Jasper.  I think you're a Meta-Dog."  Then, Buster cracked up a bit, turning away from the snow, continuing to pester:  "Come on Jasper--take me on one of your adventures, I'm not stupid, and you just act it, but I spy you munching on beef jerky; plus, all that nomadic motorcycle romance you're engaged in."
   "You're rambling."  Jasper added.
   Buster dropped his head:  "I know dude.  This place is just so boring, and no fishing spots.  I miss my homeland, but I am sincerely glad to be an American.  I know you like the French pastry at the gas station that the weird lady from Toulon makes.  I just wish something cool would happen."
   Jasper was like:  "Just believe.  Don't will it too hard.  Just easily believe, and it will.  And yes, I do have a bit of dog in me.  So, throw me a bone, and order some Werewolf By Night comics from the 1970's."