Close Encounters of A Preposterous Kind

“Okay, okay…sit down.” As Pumpkinhead sat down at a corner table in the coffee shop, Captain H threw his sandwich on the plastic tray and continued, “How do I communicate with the little green men?”
“Little green men?”
“Yeah.”
“Hey dude, did Jezebel sell you some of that liquid acid? That’s to be taken in small doses, you know. I hope you didn’t slurp that down.”
“Don’t be coy.”
“Coy?” Pumpkinhead picked at his hash browns. “You sure you mean coy?”
“Yeah I mean coy; you know like a wise-ass.” He took another bite of his sandwich.
“A wise-ass is just a wise-ass. If you’re coy, then you’re a bashful, or a shy wise-ass.”
“But you’re still a wise-ass!”
“Only if you use that particular adjective in there, otherwise you’re just a demure person.”
“Stupid?”
“Huh?”
“Stupid….a stupid person. Like, ‘that guy skipping across the street is acting a bit demurely’.”
“Because he’s demure, he’s stupid?”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
“Being demure has nothing to do with stupidity. Did we go to school in the same country?”

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Yesterday==Today

Slow and languid, the train of thought

which still insists passion be bought

under hazel skies children are taught

to worship God………….so greedily sought.

 

© 2001, 2012, 2016 Mark Rogers

Placid Animosity

Placid Animosity

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Click here for further barbaric use of the English language.

 

God Is Everywhere

“It’s God’s way. You have to accept it and embrace it if you believe in God. God wants us to endure a good ass fucking from time to time. It’s just the way he is. I think he likes to watch, too.”

“You got problems,” Rizzo huffed, stomping away.

“It sounds like you got problems; not the least of which being, your subconscious struggles with faith.” He puffed on a Tijuana Small cigar. “You know, I just love how when something goes well, you fuckin’ people thank God for everything. Thank yourselves. You’re the ones who pulled through. It makes me laugh when people pray aloud; thanking God for all they have and exclaiming how God has shined his light down upon them for their self-righteous efforts. Well, by saying that, you’re inadvertently saying that God hates all the other unlucky motherfuckers in this world. The ones who live in backwards countries and are starving to death, or the ones who lose their homes to a fire. It must be because God hates those particular families and races of people. What about natural disasters? Were the victims of those disasters all heathens? That’s what people who thank God for all the joy in their lives are saying. Otherwise, why wouldn’t God give joy and happiness to everyone? He has the capacity to do so, right? I mean, he is the Almighty. Right?”

“That’s a good question.”

“You want the answer?”

“Probably not.”

“It’s because, number one, there is no God and this is all one blind crap shoot or, number two, there is a God but he’s dumb as a wall, which means that our creation was probably nothing more than a freak accident he had while making a pot of coffee. Or, number three, there is a God and he works in partnership with Satan to preserve the balance of good and evil. I mean, what would God mean without Satan?”

“I really don’t wanna believe that God is evil, if there is one.”

“You know in a community fish tank, when one fish gets really sick, it is best to take it out of the water and let it die slowly, rather than spread the disease. That fish didn’t do anything wrong. He was just minding his own business when he got sick but it is for the good of the whole community that he expires. It’s just a responsibility that the owner of the tank, or in this case, God, must take care of whether we like it or not.” Mahdakis held her hand, lovingly, and stared back at the night stars.

© 2011 Mark Rogers

Front Cover for Driftwood (book 1)

Driftwood (Book I)

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