Can't be having this thread on the second page now can we?
Experimental piece number eight million.
"Aging Before My Time."
Princess Bit** was thrilled to have another grenade in her arsenal in the Battle of Continual Martyrdom for her fans at church. She was the dear woman with the angelic voice who sang at Master Wilsons house of Guilt every Sunday. She opened the frontline attack in the BCM. You know, that poor lovely redhead, she heard them whisper behind her back with the self started rumor, that pitiful fragile creature was shamelessly abandoned by her husband. No! And second wave barrage. Yes, and now I hear one child deals the drugs. Missile launched. and her two others are. satanworshippers. Ground control, we have made contact. If Jesus loves the poor and the suffering, than he must take Becky like a sailor would on a two hour leave with a five dollar whore.
Oh Pastor Wilson, we chant in unison, Yay though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. Pastor Wilson replies with ripe hypocrisy, tool of the Religious Right, beginning the training in the art of illogic. Yay, fear no evil. except . that of temptation! Yes! The congregation hisses, relieved at the weightlessness of being freed from personal responsibility. Protect us!
Thunderous from the pulpit, fear the evil lies of Science!! that built this church YES! We shall not think for ourselves! The Good Man deeply intimate with the Good Book, will tell them the truth. the wages of Sin! The watchful shepherd, handed from god this vast responsibility, takes his position with fervent zeal. He learns of the enemy, devoting hours and hours watching pornography, delving deep onto the internet to find the secret lairs of deviance, to uncover their singular conspiracy of corruption.
the Corruption of Greed! give us your evil money YES! Take all that we have, unload our pockets so that we may float to heaven! The Good Man will take the evil off of their hands, absorbing the very essence of evil materialism away from his flock with the 3000 sq. ft house that church funds erected, and suffer quietly, never complaining in front of the newly donated large screen T.V.
It must be the music. We saw it on TV. First the kids listen to the music and become influenced by the devil. Nothing you can teach them - independence is a dangerous trait, (and such a hindrance to mass fear mind control). . That was your first mistake. Would the glorious shepherd let his flock choose their direction? Think of the cliffs just around every corner, Satan conspiring against you at every turn.
Poor beautiful becky. How could she keep watch on those four devilspawn with her wretched illness and deserter for a husband. The tireless idol of a good Christian. How could she have time for her children? How could she take any responsibility for leaving them at home alone at four and five years old to practice her solo in the annual Christmas pageant, getting rave reviews and hundreds of dollars for Pastor A**Fu**? Far too many of them to remember birthdays, much less have time for any attention or validation. If the cat or dog shit in the house, she was simply too exhausted to clean it up. Besides, didnt it make her just a little easier to pity when they see that such a dove of light rose from such squalor? She made sure she educated them on how hard their father had beat her, didnt they feel a little responsible for that? She was too weak to stop him from hitting you when you broke the TV, and didn't you deserve that anyway? God will punish you for your sins and so will she. But look at how much she adores them, sending them to the best private schools, church and bible study very Sunday and this is how they repay her. Doting mother, loving wife, devoted daughter, superlative baptist, unrivaled martyr. The tragedy was that she belived every word of this mantra.
I would never know what surprise awaited me when I would get home from school: the terrifying sight of my mother too ill to even get up off the couch or the singing angel of mercy who would sweep me up in a mighty embrace and offer me the world? Sometimes, when I would walk in and see her passed out on the floor, I half wished that she would never get up and finally be dead dead dead, that I could turn her over and see the maggots crawling through her icy blue eyes, and simultaneously terrified that she wouldn't. Or maybe she would and they would all know that I had killed her by wishing it.
I am an old man at 10.