American Cantina--Father Malachi Martin

   
   "American Cantina--Father Malachi Martin"
   
   In her 20's, Jules' father told her that her step-mother, who worked at a gun store, hanging out with snipers and government guys, was going to have one of those guys scare her--solid as gold is the bizarre truth--even stranger than fiction.
   Her step-mother would come back from the gun store smelling of Evan Williams; plus, the grape speaks the truth, telling of her co-workers using illegal narcotics while in a gun store.
   Jules never said a word.  She supported the 2nd Amendment.  It could kill her, or protect her, depending on the soul armed with the projectile weapon.
   She recalled Father Malachi Martin--America's leading Catholic exorcist; plus, a great American author, in a sense.  He wrote a book on the iniquity of step-parents; at the same time, most clinical psychologists know this is axiomatic as well.
   Too, the rivalry, even in cruel sinister fashion, of siblings.  And yet some siblings don't want to compete.  They don't want due to God being their shepherd.  Preparing a feast for her in front of her enemies.  She felt no guilt.  Pointed to a crucified Yahshuah.  Also, a transfigured Yahshuah--from everlasting to everlasting.  

American Cantina--their texts, emails, and contacts

   
   "American Cantina--their texts, emails, and contacts"
   
   Jules knew she was clean.  Not a Saint, nor a martyr.  A mere simplistic confessor--only of truth, and the American Way.
   If they looked, saw where cash, credit, and the contacts were coming from--and they have; however, competing factions; still, as Sir Charles Barkley of the Phoenix Suns admitted, a great philosopher, in a sense:  "Nobody is ever always gonna be with you.  50% will like you; 50% will not like you."  Nobody is in the clear; at the same time, the Hebrew Calendar proclaims this year:  "The King is in the field."  And He pulls the weeds, making the crop clear and clean.  
   Maybe your android is spying on you.  Maybe your android seeks truth and justice; moreover, has compassion, and hates evil, especially if it involves throwing a sick person away, and not choosing life.
   Jules had nothing to hide.  Their withdrawals, from banks, credit unions, stocks, bonds, things sold, or however; plus, their recorded history by way of phone, email, text, script, and the history of cereal, like Fruit Loops, with numbers, if you trust the Toucan.
   Who are they talking to, or getting people to talk to for them?  Who do they break bread with, or have?  And who do those people congregate with?  Their circles, and the circles of the other tribes that they are in league with?  Doesn't take a genius.  
   Jules' history on them was buried, as was what she knew, having gone through their phone, she did, and their computer, and followed them to places, as if a good ghost.
   Yet Jules knew more.  God is real.  And there is either hell to pay, or a perfect paradise, however you like, being tame, domesticated, and yet you'll be able to fly--like an eagle.
   "Praise God."  Yes, King David said to do this; next, He allows you to soar like an eagle.  But if the mad scientist has taken you away from God, just listen to all the history of His super-mundane reality and TRUE existence.  
   Jules, for her, it was:  God; next, Country.  Red, White, and sanitizing Blue.  

American Cantina--Bounty Hunter Money

   
   "American Cantina--Bounty Hunter Money"
   
   They asked for this, thought Jules.  Now, the hunter was on them, as they had misplaced the loot with traceable numbers, like cereal.  A striking fist--them offensive.  They're into forgery.  Dementia.  Followed by anger at losing your mind.  Or Effexor, Lexapro, Xanax, and Dago Red--all in a single hour, more or less--from Sun up till Sun down.
   Their seeds jacked up on psychiatric cocktails.  Them as well.  The documentation of legal documents in the systems.  The winks.  Handshakes.  Abusing legal power.
   Jules, she was severely shy.  Guys gawked at her.  She saw the lust in their orbs of iniquity.
   She had a shrink--a decade.  Not some phony who raped her 5th Amendment.  Too, a little illegal search and seizure, due to forgery, words of others, them--jacked up on psychiatric medication, alcoholics, as are their seeds and co-workers.
   New revelation by Harvard University, a real school:  52% of Emergency Room physicians and nurses are under the influence of drugs and alcohol.  Getting paid to do so.
   Yet a family member is not allowed payment to nurture an ill relative.  And no soul, usually, will care for a relative more than a child, honoring their parents, as Moses did give instruction.

On Angelic Wings--sailors and parrots

  
   "On Angelic Wings--sailors and parrots"
   
   Pueblo empirically knew how lonely a ship on the high seas can be.  Just an enlisted man, yet Chiefs run the Navy.  His old man wanted to be a pilot.  The wild blue yonder and all; however, Pueblo dreamed of open waters; moreover, the freedom of knots, and how to splice a lime, keeping that scurvy away with fresh Vitamin C.
   Yet sailors become lonely, or develop romance with mermaids in the theater of their minds, that quantum pull of belief and effect, reserved for children of God, though Free Will kidnaps many away from Divine Purpose.
   So, never alone--Pueblo found the archaic parrot.  Never an eagle, yet so related, and feathers never ruffled, hanging out on a mammal's shoulder--a repeating sidekick, reminding the Cracker Jack white hat of a rear-view mirror's documentation, and that all actions are documented.
   Now, all CPO Pueblo needed was a grappling hook; plus, a double-barrel, though never a salty dog.  

Mom's birthday party

Francis and Mom--reunited

   
   "Francis and Mom--reunited"
  
   11 years ago, when I moved back to Tennessee, Mom had never laid down ground rules, for they were dictated by others; moreover, she said Francis would go to Catholic school, walking there every morning with a bag of lunch under his arm--it never happened, yet we took care of the others' children for years, everyday, picking them up at school, feeding them and other nice things.
   Away from Mom for two days was a melancholy groove.  I have only OCD; thus, count everything and keep notes.  She wasn't fed, brushed, groomed, and so on.  I looked through all the trash, and went to the dump the morning I returned, saving my family more expenses.
   Was told I can't take Mom for rides--no gas.  Have to beg to get her zinc and food.  Francis has lived in squalor himself for years.  Desire to get him involved in a baseball league or something, teach him the Ten Commandments, and instruct him to read comic books or Tom Sawyer.
   So I fed and medicated Mom as soon as I returned.  They had her laying on her back, flat, looking up at the ceiling, which is a plotting way to give pneumonia.  Too, her bed sore was flared, them not having medicated it, changed her clothes, and so on.  I mixed zinc with antibiotic balm, putting myrrh and turmeric powder in it.  Overnight the redness ceased.  They did not give her the laxative as I mentioned, and I document all her actions--and am the only one who talks to her like she's a great person, never giving pity, yet hope.  
   I've had my 5th Amendment stolen, my Freedom of Religion, and all the rest.  All that should occur is peace, yet now their fear again threatens me.  Let me love my Mom, guide my son to be a mere welder or something, teach him the Pledge of Allegiance, and enjoy the sunny days and walks in the park.  Mom is happy to see Francis.  She told me yesterday, after I asked her if she was glad he was here:  "Yup."  A single cognizant word from her makes me smile all day.  She is a true trooper, in sublime fashion.  

Werefox Vaquero--contract killers

   
   "Werefox Vaquero--contract killers"
   
   Samuel Mars lived in Tennessee.  He was just a dude; next, they asked for it.  Poisoning wasn't enough; then, there was the contract killers put on him.  Possible police involvement--make it look like an arrest and the dude dies in police custody, or they say he was acting up and kill him, or lock him up and kill him.  Or a hokey accident.  Or even by ambulance.  Or a long distance shot from the associates of relatives. 
   Samuel Mars just wanted them to know.  How's that--in America?  
   He went to the market and purchased some Sprite.  He used the contract money he found.  So, if they did get him, well--the killers wouldn't get paid.  He had the money; specifically, buried it, along with all the names, telephone numbers, and so on.  He knew, the white hats would find it if something happened; otherwise, he wouldn't unearth it, rather their actions would axiomatically lead to the truth being unearthed.  
   The day was bright.  He thought about their time in the pits of Pandemonium if they did not stay away.  Oh well, at least baseball season is arriving.  Dodgers will be good this year.