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Amos Hart--Lazarus

   
   "Amos Hart--Lazarus"
   
   Amos Hart.  Wednesday morning; specifically, a minute past Midnight.  Bucko next to him in bed, where King David mentioned he prayed from sometimes, a man after God's own heart--maybe the prototype for the Sacred Heat?  Awakening.
   When Lazarus died--was it the best day of his life?  Didn't appear so to Jesus.  Shortest verse in the Bible:  "Jesus wept."  Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Holy Mary.  Are NDEs all resplendent?  It doesn't seem so.  Then why the prayer?  Amos knew a guy deemed dead and around 114 pounds in Baptist Hospital in Little Rock.  Guy should've sued the hospital.  Nurse flipped his skeletal body over, saying if she was like him; next, it would be her time to go.  Guy is still alive--twenty years later.  Screw that nurse.  She's no fighter.  Gotta fight for everything God gives you.  Don't let anybody selfishly thieve it away.  Your iron fists however, should not exceed the crime of those that sin against you.  Daniel Rand knows this, him better known as FIST in the 1980's. 
   So, as a journalist with no limitations, Amos knew that everything exists, and just as there is good, so is there evil; plus, neutrality, which doesn't give a rat's ass either way--they might have the coldest of hells if we listen to the rants of Jack Kennedy.  Gotta choose a side.  No wussies.
   Oh well, Amos went back to bed.  Lucidly dreaming of the FBI's corruption, hating Trump, not believing a celebrity is more honest than crooked lawyers thinking the Democratic Party is ushering in another phony Messiah.
   Like Trump told a secretary he hired decades ago:  "Men are better than women; however, a good woman is worth more than an army of men."  

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?"