Sometimes your luck runs hot. Sometimes not. Take, for example, last Tuesday. You were out in the back meadow picking dandelions for a salad, when suddenly a tube of light beams down from a passing space ship and, suddenly, you find yourself transported to an ancient desert. Now, you originally thought that was a bad day when, in fact, it turned out to be the best day of your life. While you looked up into the sky, hoping to see the return of the space ship, you saw, instead, Jesu. Or rather Super Jesu, for he wore a cape (though somewhat frayed) and had a large yellow J sewn to his tunic. You suddenly had no wish to return home. For this, Lois, is your home.
Is this where it ends? Or begins?
I once was someone’s mother, sister, daughter, friend. Later, I became a fond memory to those I left behind. And now, finally, I am nought. With the passing of my grandchild, the last knowledge of me has vanished from this earth. And, so, there go I into the ether of Nevermore. Damn that bird.
Her name is Angela and she was born in New Jersey. From an early age, she had a fixation with religious statuary. In her mid-20s, Angela decided to become a martyr. She traded her office clothes for burlap sacks held in place by a brown hemp rope. Her crown of thorns is made from a coil of vintage Baker's Flat Two-Point barbed wire bought at Olsen's Feed & Tack. Penance for not taking her meds.