Amos Hart--NDEs

   
   "Amos Hart--NDEs"
   
   Amos Hart couldn't bring himself to pen the prose needed to give life to a deceased man, him having bitched about passing, saying that he had been harassed his entire life by unseen forces; specifically, everybody locks themselves into the world in which they were indoctrinated, and this man was simply a free agent, armed by God with a rare blood type; moreover, many folks possessing such blood tell fantastically freaky stories, and it has been documented by myriads; plus, buried by burdens.
   Amos knew he could throw in many government and military men from Arizona, Canada, everywhere, or even the Pentagon's latest concerns; however, people still live in a 3 Dimensional World, unable to grasp anything more than low frequency, imprisoning others with their tribal mentalities, and even stealing the Spirit of Christmas, which is that all possibilities exist, if not shackled by negative utterances, not even profane, mind you.
   Too, Amos knew that he loved Bucko.  There was nothing more locked in love and friendship than a dog working on the reward system for a man.  It was simple, as could be all things, but we go into the details where lies reside, and Cinderella still scrubs floors.  
   Amos was just glad it was Christmas, and that one Jewish Man decided to be a Rabble-Rouser, hoping to awaken this planet.  Many call it a prison planet.  Many don't.
   Amos went to Mass.  Bucko sat outside in the Olds.  He enjoyed it.  The best part was the Eucharist.  Touching Jesus, gently.  

Amos Hart--Yuletide

  
   "Amos Hart--Yuletide"
   
   Putting new oil in the Olds, Bucko licking his epidermis, a patch of skin displayed through the poverty of his pants, and while women don't fancy Khaki much, what did Amos care, for he didn't fancy women much, since washing hands went out the window, and wasn't the Virgin Mother from the Levitical Line?  Some say yes.
   Not an extorting Aaronite, yet how Jesus perfected it, offering anything on the table, and no man speaks clearly for Him, unless of course that man believes every word of Jesus, and that He shot up, possibly at Mach 3, possibly not, He wasn't a showman, but a mere carpenter, though slave to no thoughts that did not gel with His Father's, God.
   Amos Hart had to crank the filter off by inserting a screwdriver and doing some twisting, for Bucko's kisses had made him crush it earlier--oh well, the glory of grease and stain, that's why they invented LAVA soap, and though part cooter and full journalist, Amos rather enjoyed the pharmacy; moreover, was pleased that Walgreens had put Gingerbread cookies out this year.  Thought he saw a real elf there earlier, but you can't just go around and say that kinda stuff, even though the government can't control such aeronautical happenings nowadays--or could they ever?  

Elvis Presley "I'll Be Home For Christmas"

The Abyss 1989 Ed Harris CPR to Mastrantonio

Larry's Fancy Lighter

   
   "Larry's Fancy Lighter"
  
   Holland took it, in a special way.  He preserved and honored the Lighter, buying special flints for it and polishing it up in immaculate fashion; plus, he added high-grade lighter fluid.  Forged the uncanny tale that Old Larry got it in the Korean War when he was in the private company of Asian Nation Ladies, back during his daring days in the high-flying Air Force--Holland appreciated the hell out of that particular Lighter--it was myth, and rooted in some aspects of truth.  
   First time they did mimic my step-dad in front of me--Bob put a smaller lighter in my face, cranked on the flickering flame; next, did the Southern Man mimic, exclaiming casually:  "In your eye, boy!"
   We always impersonated everybody's father.  And for the bad ass Green Beret, we'd say:  "Brent, go scoop your dog's poo."
   And as Patricia, Larry, and me came back to the Little Rock anchor from our long journey to the  salty shores of Richmond, Larry asked Holland after Christmas:  "So boy, was Santa Claus good to you this year?"

White Christmas-Elvis Presley

Amos Hart--Samson Effect

  
   "Amos Hart--Samson Effect"
  
   Amos Hart did a 40 punch in the Cutlass, the 350 igniting to life through hammered acceleration, and Bucko's tongue not flapping, but safely inside as the granny's old cruiser cranked it up to ninety in no time, and there was no lawman to see the Oldsmobile thunder.
   Thought of Samson.  They need a Samson prayer card.  Have Freedom of Religion in America, like in Rome at one time, and plenty.  The Neptune Festival or whatever it was that Amos' Uncle used to tell him about--how cool is that, and weird, for does your town have a Neptune Festival, and some do!?!
   All the gods were present for Amos; plus, all realities.  There was no other choice.  A journalist has to make cracker jack decisions, meet a deadline, drink sour mash out of an F. Scott Fitzgerald flask and be a degenerate spy, at first; next, the levels of sublimity kick in, and you no longer wear a trench-coat, waiting on the cape, or maybe even a mustang to ride on.  The point doesn't matter if you don't know who shot the arrow.  Amos ate a gingerbread cookie as he drove, and kinda fast.  It was great for a man to multi-task.  Unless of course he was watching STAR WARS, or ingesting the purely instrumental frequencies of Bach.