Water Lilly Alley

You can count on me to do my part.

I have always been taken by words in one sense or another. For instance there are words that live in sounds: Splash, comes to mind, buzz is another, sizzle and snap are just a few that speak for themselves.  When it comes to sex: Warm, soft, fuzzy, moist, slippery, apart and glistening have a complete different meaning altogether than if one were to use the same words to describe a sliced peach that has been left in the backseat of a car in July.

One can also use a single word to convey a wave of feelings: Dreary, passionate, inconsolable, adorable, apprehensive, disillusioned, leery, lost and lonely are just but a few, And yet what they all have in common is that they slip far within themselves, turn around and come right back to the surface zigzagging all the way so that you can never quite pin them down.

Then there are the words that are held captive in groups of ownership. Kids have their own group of words that they use among one another and nowhere else. Men too have their little four letter anatomical descriptions that are shared only within the tribe of men. Women have a bit more in the word basket, words that they use only in the company of other women, words that we shall not touch on at this time for reasons known only to women.

It’s these words that are owned by certain unmixed groups that I wish to discuss today. One word in particular that arises from this thought process is normally not spoken in mixed company, mixed parties or within cultures other than their own.

And that word my friends, is the “N” word. 

Now, I didn’t even say ‘the word’ and somehow there are about 200 million of your 500 trillion synapses desperately trying to short circuit your neurons in the hope that you will not read any further. However, the choice is yours.

Still around?

Spendid.

As I see it, the ‘N’ word over the last 20 years or so has only been spoken within certain selected circles. People within these social circles use the word almost as a term of endearment. I do believe it has a lot to do with countering the downside connotation of how society has associated the word with violence and actions that fall short of what most would expect of what is moral and just. These selected individuals (The N’s) tend to lend themselves to the darker side of life in a belief that the means truly does justify the final outcome of any given situation. This was never more evident than in the late ‘60’s and all through the 70’s.

However, during the 80’s and up until now this social unit has taken full ownership of the word Ninja and proudly utilizes the word within their elite setting. 

Let’s look at a few of the phases that have become popular within this time frame of cultural bondage.

1.   What was that crazy Ninja thinking?
2.   What’s up Ninja?
3.   Oh no, that ninja dint.
4.   Man, that ninja can scale.
5.   Ninja, what are you talking about?
6.   Ninja got game.
7.   Ninja, you ain’t getting none of this unless you get a job… (Female    ninja)
8.   Ninja, I don’t see no ring on this finger. (Female ninja)
9.   Don’t be hatin’ ninja.
10  You feeling me ninja
10. Ninja pul…ease.

So you can see how certain verbiage can be completely and so ever empowering and enriching at the same time within a group that has come to terms with societies’ negativity.

Then there are the ones that wish to be Ninjas but can’t quite pull it off even though they have all the skills and street speak.  These people are mostly white and have been termed Winjas.

Some popular Winjas.
Chuck Norris.
Jean- Claude Van Damme
Billy Jack
John Savage
Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Popeye
Uma Thurman
Charlie’s Angels.

Then we have Real Ninjas
Bruce Lee
Li Mu-bai
Yu Shu-lien
Yu-Xiulian
Sir Te
Wudang.
David Carradine

My point being is that if one is in the realm or reality of who they are, then they have certain rights to the words that describe them or their group.

So back to me… because you know WLA is really all about me even though it takes me forever to make a point.

Every morning as part of my daily ritual I get up, feed the cats, brush my teeth, pull a comb through my hair, throw on a pair of jeans, commando style, some sandals, a shirt and head on down to The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf coffeehouse for a cup of half decaf and half regular coffee.

On Wednesday mornings there are these large, I’m talking mega big ass buses that pull up to the curb at the Coffee Bean, half filled with elderly folks. I would say perhaps the youngest may run about 60, the oldest, 75 or thereabouts. Then there is another group of the elderly that meet at The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf to catch the mega assed busses. I’m thinking these are Indian Gaming buses that haul these folks out to the casinos near Palm Springs for a day and night of old folk’s blissful wishing

I don’t have a problem with this, nor do I care if I have to park at the far end of the parking lot because there are so damn many of them. They are everywhere,  in the buses, near the buses, in back of the buses, in front of the buses, milling around in the parking lot, some ordering coffee, some not, but most of them just smoking cigarettes and cigars like time will forbid them the remainder of the pack. 

The line from the bathroom begins at the rear of the coffeehouse and winds towards and out the front door. There are about four people in line, so I wait.

My turn rolls around and there are two female baristas behind the counter that I know and banter with on a daily basis and a male barista working the pastry counter. 

So I get up to the counter, now you have to understand, I have gray hair, salt and pepper some say, and I’m 59 and a half. I’m wearing sandals with ankle socks. Getting the picture?

I’m sorta old, so I figure I can talk old people talk and share a few of old people words. 

I say – in what I think is my indoor voice – to the cat working the pastry counter.

“Dude, are those buses hauling all these old folks off to heaven or what, if so, there are a few that look like they may not make it before the driver finishes stocking the refreshment panel with last minute prayers.”

Well the fucking place goes silent. You could hear a pin drop and If looks could kill I would have been shot, buried, dug up and shot again right then and there by a horde of blue heads 

Old folks can be very, very intimidating when they all hush up at the same time. 

If it weren’t for the sound of the toilet flushing and someone fumbling with the bathroom door lock, trying to get out of the bathroom, you would have thought time has come to an end. 

And I was right there.

Sometimes, Love is Like That.

From behind a shade 
of a provocative
lilac-quartz lipstick
and sporting just
the right amount of tattoos,
(nine)

the waitress smiled and asked
“What will it be?”

Looking up
I realized that love
had just arrived
and with it,
a name tag: Lana.

Before long Lana
and I were spending
afternoons together as
summer
slid into fall,
fall into winter. 

We married in January,
in June, two became three.

Before long,
three became four.
Her mother
made five.

Two kids,
a mortgage,
a car and a truck,
a boat, and a new mother.

Love slipped into the hallway… and waited.

Along with Mother,
came luggage: 62 years of ideology,
as much theology
and a make-up kit filled
with a personal willingness
to change everything
except
herself. 

Lana, picked up her art degree,
I picked up a second job.

Art led to Arnold
Arnold to the affair that brought home
arguments beginning
in why and ending in :
 “No” and “Never

The youngest found drugs,
death found the youngest.

Love slipped into the breakfast nook,
stopped and looked around.

Mother died and the oldest applied for a sex change.

Stares for breakfast.
Vicodin at the office.
Oranges chasing vodka for lunch.
Gin chasing traffic all the way home.
Wine for dinner,
what if(s) for dessert.

Another affair,
more nothings,
a second mortgage
and the question of “Who needs a boat?”
begins to make sense.

Love slips into the backyard and crouches.

Depression
and despair,
alcoholism
and aloneness,
fear and desperation
become incestuous lovers
taunting all your used to be(s)

Arthritis and assisted living
have become your best friends.

And as love looks around,
she readies to pounce into nothingness,

I  look back up at the waitress

and say…

Just Coffee.  

The Defendant

Ladies and Gentle of the jury the question before you is very simple, and I could sum it up in a few sentences. But I have a chance to talk to you now in more detail. It's important that when you decide this case, that you take the time to consider everything - not just what the prosecutor would like you to believe and as I have stated earlier, this is not whether my client is guilty of being vain, but that he has been unjustly given the perception of being vain. There is a difference, and it is up to you to decide on that difference.

First I would like to remind the jury that nothing is more basic to living together as humans, than to love. It doesn’t matter if it’s the love of one another in a sense of community or the one on one monogamous love that prevails in our society today. Also it’s just as vital to know that love arises out of a need to progress in our culture. And as many ways that there are to fall in love there are just as many ways that love can be perceived or in this case, mis-perceived and that is what this case is all about: How one perceives love and how that person deals with the outcome of said perception. We must also know by heart, that this way of thinking is not indigenous to this wonderful nation of ours but is felt throughout the world. Throughout the world Ladies and Gentlemen.

Now you must ask yourself as a good starting point: Does an accusation define a person, or does one’s actions define a person?  If the latter rings fair, then you will not have a difficult time deciding the fate of my client.

The plaintiff would like you to believe that my client, Mr. Sanderstone had nothing but his own interest in mind the entire time that Ms. Simon and he were together. And I believe that you will come to see: That is not the way it was or is. 

You heard just a few days ago Ms. Simon say in her own words in reference to a party that she had attended that when Mr. Sanderstone entered:  “ He walked into the party like he were walking onto a yacht, his hat strategically dipped below one eye, his scarf, apricot and that he had one eye in the mirror as he  watched himself gavotte.”  “That all the girls dreamed that they'd be his partner, he is so vain.”

Ladies, how many times have you walked into a party, felt a bit uneasy and found yourself side glancing into a mirror to see if your outfit was in order. And to ‘gavotte’? Does anyone here know the definition of gavotte?  I didn’t, I had to look it up. At first I thought it had something to do with pimping oneself. And I’m sure that is what Ms, Simon would like you to believe, however, it has nothing to do with such foolishness. It means to dance.  And what do we do at parties Ladies and Gentlemen, we dance. 

And I find it a very solid stretch of the imagination to think that anyone can step into another’s dream and forecast their desires.  Again, “That all the girls dreamed that they'd be his partner’ is sheer speculation on the plaintiff’s behalf.

The plaintiff also claims that Mr. Sanderstone, again, in her words: “He had me several years ago, when I was still quite naive.” “He said that we made such a pretty pair, and would never leave.” And then she goes on to say “That he gives away the things that he loves and one of them was me, I had some dreams, they were clouds in my coffee”

She testified as clearly as I’m standing here before you that ‘he gives away the things that he loves’ Ladies and Gentlemen, that is not by any means the actions of a man that is selfish, vain, or self centered.  HE gives away the things that he loves. Just think about that for a moment.

Perhaps being naïve is not something Ms. Simon left behind in her youth.  Especially when she goes on to claim that she had dreams and they were clouds in her coffee. 

I ask you, does that sound like the reasoning of a woman that understands the finer points of love?  A woman who bases her dreams on swirls of cream in coffee.  The next thing we will find is that Ms. Simon is a chronic tea leaf reader as well.

It was shortly after this coffee vision that Ms. Simon decided that my client was indeed, vain.

That, he was sure that everything she said, did or thought was all about him. I think she used the phrase. "You think this song is about you, don’t you, DON’T you."  Referring sporadically to herself as being a song.

Then again with the clouded coffee…

If you will recall when Ms. Simon was on the stand today, she clearly recalled a time just before their separation, of Mr. Sanderstone going up to Saratoga, where his horse had won and how he flew a Lear jet up to Nova Scotia to see the total eclipse of the sun. That he was where he should have been all the time and when not, he was with some underworld spy or the wife of a close friend.

Spies, horses, Lear jets, traveling, eclipsing of the sun?

It’s quite evident that the only spies involved here, were in the employ of Ms. Simon, for how else would she know of his windfall of having a horse come in, or that he spent the afternoon watching an eclipse with the wife of a close friend?  Who of us here does not have close friends? How many of those close friends have wives, or husbands that we also friend?

The overall accusations here Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, are just that, accusations. 

As I stated in the beginning of my closing argument, “Does an accusation define a person, or does one’s actions define a person?

Mr. Sanderstone, may be guilty, but not guilty of being vain, guilty of falling in love perhaps, and then giving that life sustaining love away. Yes, in that sense, he may very well be guilty.

If only we could be so generous, perhaps none of us would be sitting here today.

Thank you.  

Tales From The Heart: Pennies From Hell

Once upon a time in the far, far away in the little village of  Constantinella there lived a 5 foot, 7 inch, green eyed, pidgin-toed, tangled haired Romanian woman that everyone knew as Seraphina.

And Seraphina, like most of the villagers in the village of Constantinella was very, very poor.  In fact, if not for what little potatoes fields they were able to manage, the villagers may have starved several years back and this story would have had an entire different outcome altogether.

But the villagers did not starve, life went on and this story as most stories are prone to do; came to be told.  

Unlike most accounts from Romania and tales of near abandoned villages. Constantinella had something different, something special. Instead of a stream that fed most of the neighboring villages, Constantinella had a well. It was a deep well, so deep in fact, that if you were to peer in, you would see where the day would go to gather darkness so as to blanket the entire night. 

It was a sturdy well as wells go. People would meet there daily for drinking water, to cool off, to wash clothes and some would even fetch water to dampen the goats.

Being the grateful citizens that they were, all appreciated the well for its generosity; nearly everyone that came to the well would toss a penny in for a wish: for penny wishing was about a popular as eating and had been going on for as long as anyone in the village of Constantinella could remember.

Some would wish for fame, although being famous in Constantinella expressed a staunch lack of ambition.

Some would wish for marriage.

And some for divorce.

Some for money.

Some for beauty.

Some wished to be 18.

Some to be 21.

Some to be 30.

And even more wished to be 30 once again.

Some would wish for a leg, an eye, a smaller nose.

Some to be taller.

Some to be shorter.

Some wished for the not so nice to be nicer people.

And the not so nice would wish for the wishes of wishers not to come true.

They were the worst of all.

Then one evening Seraphina, after drawing water, tossed a penny into the village well and once again wished for love, but instead of hearing the penny’s silent nothing of dropping, she heard,

A.

CLINK!

Another penny, and again, another clink.

Walking over to the well, Seraphina looked in and right up to the brink of the well, right up to the bottom of the fetching pail, nothing but pennies. No water, no dark deepness, just pennies: Thousands and thousands of pennies, pennies destined to be wishes.

The mayor of Constantinella was ecstatic and within hours had barricaded the well and sent for guards with a declaration that all water was now to be drawn from the stream at the neighboring village.

Upon the well ban of Constantinella, Seraphina set to bucketing the pennies from the well and storing them in her private reserve. Day in and day out and most nights, she worked. Through Christmas, through Easter, through birthdays, funerals, weddings, through the winter solstice all the way into spring, never stopping, always bucketing.

After about two years of gathering, Seraphina noticed that her fingers began to turn a dirty brown and were slowly beginning to stiffen. A year later, both her arms began to mollify .  She soon found it difficult to breathe and when she went to the doctor to see what was ailing her, the doctor would ask her to breathe in as he would thump his finger on her chest to try and figure out what was going on inside and that is when he heard the first echo. And not just an ordinary echo as you might expect, but a tinny, hollow, metal echo. A far away echo...

And yet she continued to haul pennies. Her open hands became ridged scoops, her arms slowly transformed into squeaky levers, her back creaked.

Again the doctor was summoned and Seraphina was told to cease with the gathering of pennies and that not to stop, would be the death of her.

Of course the mayor would not hear of such foolishness and would have the guards carry her to the well every morning, where she would retrieve pennies late into the night.

One morning after a long night of fetching, the guards found Seraphina with one hand on the bucket, her head slightly tilted and peering into the well, her other hand on the crank, her back slightly bent and upon closer inspection…

 Frozen solid.

                                             The End.

Epilogue: Now, if you are ever traveling the nether regions of Romania and come to the little village of Constantinella you will find several wells in the village square, wells for washing, wells for drinking, and wells for cooking.  Wells for every water need possible, even a well used only for goats, to keep them happy and slightly dampened.  Yet, in the very center of the square: There still stands the original wishing well and next to the well, in all its glory: A fine brightly polished 5 foot, 7 inch, blue eyed, pidgin-toed, tangled haired  statue of a Romanian woman that everyone once knew as Seraphina.

So remember kids, for one to make wish is to look forward into a dream, for two to share a wish is heaven on earth, and to hoard a thousand wishes will turn you into an old and very cold coppery bitch.

 

A Study In Form

A scientifically generated humongous 8.4 earthquake will rock a seven-story nipple tomorrow at 0900 hours to the brink of collapse.

The 70 foot nipple currently sits on the world’s largest mobile earthquake platform in the back lot of Nin Quan Nye’s Take Out and Dim Sum Kitchen on Main Street in Chinatown. The mobile earthquake platform will simulate the motions of the 1906 San Francisco earthquake.

Although metal corrugated buildings are cheaper and faster to construct than those made of steel Dr. Nin Quan Nye after visiting several local beaches felt that a new Nipple Structure  System would be beneficial in several of the new mid-rise structures that are planned to be built in the region, especially in the congested areas of downtown Los Angeles.  

“Basically, what happens during an earthquake in multiple-story buildings is something called a 'soft story'," said Dr. Nin Quan Nye. "A 'soft story' lends itself to the very same shaking and jigging that falls into motion when a 30 something woman jogs on a beach path." 

After a six month in-depth study of female runners at the world famous boardwalk in Santa Monica California Dr. Nin Quan Nye came to the conclusion that if the human nipple can take such a savage belting day in and day out and still hold true to form then it just may be possible to build new town homes and small six to five story business units in the form of a nipple.

 Dr. Nin Quan Nye  went on to say that from his study that he found the nipple itself to be just a bit more stiff  than the surrounding formation of its makeup. This holds true especially in colder climates and most of our earthquakes have taken place in early or later parts of the year. 

Dr. Nin Quan Nye elaborated further with "What we need is a building with stiffness built closer to the top of the structure along with the base and surrounding areas a bit more “soft” from the rest of the unit. This will allow for the entire structure to move or shake violently and then return to its original form without collapsing."

Dr. Nin Quan Nye feels that with this new structure in place there should be less worry of collapse and urban destruction during a major earthquake. These new structures are expected to hold their shape and resiliency for at least 60 years. 

Mrs. Nin Quan Nye of  Nin Quan Nye’s Take Out and Dim Sum Kitchen could not be reached for comment.

 

When God Laughs.

One can’t become a good Christian by going to church any more than one can become a good mechanic by walking into garage.

One can’t become a good Buddhist by thinking that enlightenment is attained by eliminating all desire any more than if Buddha were here today, that he would or could turn down a double-double with cheese.

Or that a Taoist can become so, just by reading the Tao-te-Ching.

When it comes to faith, I lend myself to the latter of the three. For me this works, it makes sense that it doesn’t have to make sense.

So when talking of nuns and God most of my conversations simmer into the basic principles of Taoism, although some may call it Mother Nature, some Planet Earth it all boils down to the same thing: Is.

Case in point: Taoism states that words are just a sign to point to the non-conceptual ultimate reality. It is of value to not obsess over the conceptual pointer but to see the ultimate reality clearly. Simple really, however, and you knew this was coming; the following tale will elaborate my point.

Paco and Man.
                                                 

Señor, we have nice guavas today, fresh pineapple, perhaps you like melons?

Actually, I was looking for a few ‘my turns’.

Oh no, Señor, we have no ‘my turn(s)’ today. We have a few ‘doubt(s)’  I think three, maybe four, but we no longer have the I(s) or it(s) to go along with them.  Mothers pick the sets up early. Maybe you would like a doubt?

No, I don’t want a doubt, I want a ‘my turn’, just one, no more, no less.  Look down there in the back, next to the ‘I will(s)’ and see if you don’t have just one.

Oh no, I’m sure we don’t, but wait Señor, I have seven I see(s).  I see(s) are very good for the afternoon. After a long day, Señor, what could be more relaxing than to sit on the front porch and pop open an ‘I see’ as the breeze slips through the yard and the afternoon sun yawns into the evening? ‘I See(s) are very truthful my friend.

Paco, I don’t want an ‘I see, I will, or I can’t’, and surely I have no room in my life for a ‘doubt’. I need, or let me put it this way Senor! I want a fucking ‘turn’!  I want ‘My Turn’! Do you not understand?

Oh yes, Señor, but you must be patient, ‘my turn(s)’ go very fast this time of year.  Perhaps you come back in the morning. Some people don’t like what they find with ‘my turns’ and bring them back for a return. And the law says that we cannot give returns for my turns. Maybe you can buy a used turn, the ‘retrun(s)’ come here early, they may sell to you, but I cannot guarantee anything Señor.

Paco, I don’t want a used turn, I want a… New. Shiny. Cordial. ‘My Turn’. Get it? ‘My Turn.’

Paco, yesterday I applied for the job of my dreams, in walks a kid with a fresh new ‘my turn’ and I’m shit out of luck. Last month I meet the love of my life, and who shows up? A 27 year-old blond, a dozen ‘my turn(s)’ in her purse and off they go, the love of my life and her new lover, the two of them never to be seen again: I’m fucking sure about that.

Last weekend I went down to the rescue mission to see if I could pick up a free ‘Turn’. It didn’t even matter if it was a ‘my turn’ or not, I just wanted a ‘turn’.  I waited for six hours and then when I got to the head of the line, a man sitting at the table asked me if it was my ‘turn’, I said yes. So he asked to see my ‘turn’. I told him that I was there to pick one up, then the man sitting at the table said "If you don’t have a turn, then no turn."

So you see it’s very important Paco that I have a turn. You must have a 'turn' for me. I need a turn my friend. Please! Oh God, please.

Señor, I feel that the Saints are joyous today for you, even the Mother of Guadalupe must be smiling on your life: I will give you my ‘Turn.’

Thank you Paco, thank you so much and I thank all and all that came before you, you are blessed a thousand times in the eyes of Angels.

Ok, Señor, it’s your turn, what would you like?

A dozen mangoes please.

 

Princess Nalovia and The Cannon

As told by Mr. WLA

Once upon a time in the far away about eighty years ago there lived a magic cannon princess and what made her different from other princesses was that she collected cannons from all over the world. Her name was Princess Nolovia and she owned many, many cannons, big cannons, small cannons, cannons that shook the ground when they went off and cannons that would no more belch as they sent their cargo skyward.  She owned red cannons, blue cannons, yellow cannons and cannons with exotic flowers painted on the side and cannons embedded with rhinestones and glitter and others with elaborate scenes of marching tin soldiers inlaid on the cannon’s wheels forever marching into tomorrow.

Princess Nolovia was just a young girl of 19 when she began collecting cannons and at 24 she ran away the Zarcatti Brothers’ Circus and toured with them as the first woman cannonball and was the envy of many of the great circus acts of her time. Princess Nolovia held the record for the longest distance launched from a cannon for decades, until she beat her own record by having herself launched into the middle of next Tuesday. She held this record until her retirement at the age of 79.

Although Princess Nolovia retired she never lost the wanting of bright lights, cotton candy, hotdogs, candied apples the smell of fresh popped kettle corn. Even the bark of midway carnies had become music to her ears.

So as not to be deprived in her later years she bought up the biggest parcel of land that was available on the outskirts of town. And once a year, mid-year, she would have her people set up the most colorful of tents. Three.

Once the flag from above the largest tent was unfurled Princess Nolovia would send out fliers far and wide asking for clowns, happy cows and a high flying trapeze team. Also included in the request: Two elephants, an old tiger, an aging bear, out of work carnies and one giant Ferris wheel.

And so every year, mid-year the entire town looked forward to Princess Nolovia's Circus of Many Wonders.

The day before the grand opening Princess Nolovia’s team would roll her grandest of all cannons out onto the midway. All polished and shimmering the cannon whispered grand.

And every year, mid-year the entire town’s anticipation would grow as the postman would deliver 25 invitations to 25 selected children.

The invitation:

Child of the heart, in this day and age when magic and wonder seem to be disappearing in leaps and bounds, it's refreshing to encounter people such as you. After hours and hours of review of who’s been naughty and who’s been nice, you have been selected to partake in a group human cannon ball flight into a 40 foot mountain of freshly spun cotton candy.  On behalf of all that is magical throughout this wonderful land I do hope you will extend yourself to experience softness beyond your wildest dreams.

Sincerely Princess Nolovia.

On opening night, after the clowns clowned, The Flying Merry-Weathers flew, and all the animals did what old animals do, all lights across the midway dimmed as two clowns propped a candy stripped ladder against the cannon’s inviting O.

One by one, the 25 children, some laughing and some just giggling climbed the ladder and one by one they slid slowly down O’s tunnel until they came to the little handholds just above little pillowed seats, they settled in. Excited, they talked of all the softness they had known up until now and how wonderful it would be to mix soft with flying. It was almost too much to think about

As the band played on Princess Nolovia ordered her cannon bearer to slowly crank the cannon into position, slowly upward and with each tick of the crank the crowd cheered,  the cannon's mouth arched 20 degrees above the candied mountain, the crowd cheered even louder than before, 40 degrees, now the cheering slipped into yelling: Higher! Higher!  60 degrees above the mountain of dreams…

The crowd was going crazy. “All the way, all the way” they screamed.

Inside O, one by one, the children slid from their pillows, one by one each lost hold of the handholds and one by one they inched to the back of O as she lifter her heavy neck skyward. Soon, against their best efforts they began to wiggled into a cannon ball. Terrified they heard the crowd counting.

10-9-8-7-

 The cannon rose higher.

6-5-4-

And one by one, each child saw the moon take place of the candied mountain.

3-2-

The crowd looked toward The Magic Cannon Princess.

1

Princess Nolovia bowed to the crowd as the loudest boom of the year spoke belligerently. 

O bellowed and 25 children, one by one led a whoosh and a snazle-fizzle as they trailed into the summer night sky, and one by one, going separate ways they burst into the greatest light shower ever witnessed with bright reds, blues, sunburnt orange, violet and lilac. Some became teal before green. And others before going out, burst again with bright shades of silver, enticing the crowd to reach a frenzy of delight with ahhhh and oooooohhhhs.

The End.

The moral of this tale boys and girls is that just because you receive a request from a princess; never assume that when she says naughty and nice, that you have been the nice one.

More on what happens to children who find it necessary to play with matches time and time again after being told not to do so, can be found at your local library.

It's All About Me.

Dear Santa,

Well, it’s that time of year again and so with just a week left I thought I best get my list out to you. I know you’re busy and actually I was going to send this register off to God, after all he does have a much larger day planner than you, yet it  turns out that this time of year he so rushed to get his son’s
birthday kicked off by the 25^th. You would think he would tire of this year after year but I guess a lot of guilt comes with throwing your first born under the bus to save mankind.

So as not to take up too much of your time I submit the following. Please hear me out before making any rash decisions on my desires.

I’ve been pretty good this year and even though I have a list as long as my arm I think I will just stick to the basics. 

First up, I think it’s about time that I hook up with a significant other. (Female) Now, I know the dangers of a woman or the fact that love can make a man take a painting by Matisse or recordings of Brahms and smash them over the toilet, however, I’m willing to take the risk.

When it comes to her physical appearance, I’m not too particular, but I would like her to have a positive attitude and she must be able to overcome obstacles. (Seriously).

I would like her to be strong minded and soft hearted. She must have integrity and balance in her life. It would also be nice if she has the ability to set goals and is driven by a cause, being a teacher would be a plus all the way around. 

Tall, plump, short or thin doesn’t matter as long as she’s willing from time to time to slip into something a little more alluring than a pair of sweats or one-piece footed pajamas. It’s not necessary that she always have shaved legs and make-up on.  Cursing is ok as long and she keeps it within a reasonable decibel range.  Shrieking is a no-no.

She must not be a habitual spitter. 

On yeah, easy on the cunning…

That should be about it. Of course and I understand that you may be running short on requests for significant others this year and that is why I have a back-up request in mind.

Santa, I would like a Zombie, (Male) but let’s be a bit more clear here when it comes to characteristics for as you may know Zombies can be a bit troublesome at best.

Now I should explain that my new best friend The Zombie which I shall call Landle will hang out with me sorta like on the buddy system and seeing as how we will be pals his diet must not consist of brains. I have a hard enough time opening cans of ground chicken parts for the cats, so having to scavenge for brains will be out of the question. I think a diet of candy bars should be sufficient.

He must be able to move a little bit faster than slow. I cannot spend most of my time when we’re out waiting for him to play catch-up.

As you know Zombies are not mindless corpses. Zombie intelligence will vary so Landle should be able to read so that he can keep me updated on blogs, news and shit.

Please remember Santa that the main strength of the undead lie primarily in their ability to assemble in vast numbers and their ability to transform victims into zombies. With that said I don’t think the group thing is such a good idea. He should be able to know the difference between me (his buddy) and some asshole that needs to be zombied with an infectious bite.

As for abilities, Zombies attack using their hands and mouth, and a Zombie’s teeth is the most deadly weapon so I think to boost his kick ass aptitude he should know Tai Chi or some shit like that.

He should also have a sledge hammer because as you know… when a Zombie shows up, everyone has to get all pissy and they end up nailing boards across doors and windows. That is just not right, I mean, what if we need to get into a venue or the grocery store or even worse, an all night convenient store?

Communication: I would also need to know simple Zombie grunts and groans so that we may communicate with one another, like when he says in gruntese, “Excuse me, are you using that candy bar? Because my teeth are quite interested in it” and “Hey, human bud, check out that sweet chocolate factory, schakca-a-bow-wow.”

I know The Buddy System Zombie will do whatever it takes, whether that means breaking a window, clawing through a door or following the scent of German chocolate cake for 500 miles just so they can sink their teeth into the yumness. To me, that just shows pure unadulterated chutzpah.

 A zombie is an evolutionary marvel and so that is what I want for Christmas Santa. In fact, you need not work so hard on the significant other, I mean it would be nice to have a Sig-O but I think Landle will work out just fine.

 

Sincerely

Mr. WLA.

Wondering Where The Lions Are.

In past posts I may have mentioned the fact that ex-wife #1 and ex-wife #2, both, at different times but following each respective divorce, found Jesus.  Needless to say, back in the early 70’s when X-1 found her way, I wasn’t really surprised because I think she was floundering in that direction from the start, so I didn’t think much about it, yet in the mid 90’s when X-2  pronounced a willingness to share the light of all that is good, well, that left me a bit shaken; Had I led these two women to the weather beaten welcome mat of God with my less than admirable actions?  A dilemma by the way, that I have long since  come to terms with and today feel that it was just the luck of the draw for everyone involved: A real que sera, sera sort of thing.

 

Now, I’m not one for saying what one should believe in or not believe in and I more or less keep to myself on other’s beliefs as well and roll on with what I have.  X-2 is of the same realm of thought, and with her being a good God fearing woman she could care less about my not seeing the light. In fact she is pretty set on the fact that I can’t see beyond the next five minutes.  Or so she has said.

 

 X-1, well, that is another story altogether.  A week does not pass that she does not forward a chain letter from the mouth of God himself directing one on what to look out for or who to avoid, and when, where and how to avoid it or them.

 

The latest being an email on how one should not accept the new one dollar coins.  Well, here have a look for yourself.
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DO NOT ACCEPT THE NEW DOLLAR COINS AS CHANGE! ----- THE SWITCH HAS BEGUN: Please help do this ... refuse to accept these when they are handed back to you. I received one from the Post Office as change and I asked for a dollar bill instead. The lady just smiled and said, 'Way to go,' so she had read this e-mail. Please help out. Our world is in enough trouble without this too! U.S. Government to Release New Dollar Coins, You guessed it -- IN GOD WE TRUST' IS GONE! If ever there was a reason to boycott something, THIS IS IT
Together we can force them out of circulation. Please send to all on your mailing list!

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WTF. THE SWITCH HAS BEGUN. Really?  What switch?  Did I miss something? Are we like, converting over to the Canadian loonie or something more sinister?

 

I really don’t know what is going on here, but I figure it must have something to do with Armageddon and the beginning of the end.  If so, let it not be said that I am just going to sit idly around and let G-Man and his citizens of the fluffy floor brigade just come buzzing in and slap all the believers into eternal bliss via The Rapture and discard the rest of us for not being upwardly mobile.

 

The Truth is Out There. Maybe.

 

Well if it is and The Rapture is about to take place then I feel a need to prepare, and not just for myself, but for all of humanity. One planet one people shit. Because what if we non-believers as a whole are wrong. What then.  Damnation?

 

I think NOT.

 

Fear not folks, in the event that there is something afoot I have put together a little kit to prepare yourself, something that you can throw together with things from around the house so that when the Glory Train arrives – if it does - you and yours will be ready.    

 

The Water Lilly Alley Rapture Kit.

 

Water: Now I really haven’t met anyone that has returned from heaven, therefore I don’t have any hard evidence that there is water at the end of the stop.  Water, therefore, will be our first and foremost concern. A normally active person needs to drink at least two quarts of water each day. Take along one gallon per person per day for the trip. Travel time is still undetermined so don’t forget water for the elderly and your pets, children are reasonably resilient and should get along just fine for the first day or so.

 

Also prepare a small container of bleach to take along in your outfit. Use 16 drops of bleach to treat water that may be questionable. Say for instance someone wanders off the Glory Train and you find they have left a container of water behind. The water should be treated before use. I’m thinking backwash.

 

Food: We’re not sure how long Rapturning will take, so it would be wise to pack ready-to-eat canned meats - Beanie wienies would be a good choice for the trip, fruit roll ups, canned juices, and a block of government cheese if available. Sugar, salt, pepper and high energy foods such as peanut butter and jelly, crackers, cookies, hard candy will store well and are compact. Don’t forget food for the pets, mainly for fattening the little critters. (again, you never know.)  Oh yeah, and steak sauce… and a light chardonnay depending on what kind of pets you’re bringing along.

 

First Aid: I would not be one bit surprised if they don’t have universal health care in heaven so it may be wise to bring along your own supplies. Here are just a few items I think one may need.

Sterile adhesive bandages, safety pins, soap, latex gloves, and sunscreen.

 

Laxatives – I’m sure the first week in the new digs will leave one constipated.

Tweezers- for angel wing shards.

Needles and moistened towelettes for that not so fresh feeling.
Lubricant. Yeah. Like, better have it than need it.

 

Tools: Just in case Heaven isn’t cracked up to be what it’s supposed to be I would like to suggest paper cups, batteries, cash, traveler’s checks, a non-electric can opener or utility knife, pliers, tape, matches, aluminum foil, paper, pencils, lawnmower, bicycle and a few assorted wrenches.

At least five signal flares.

 

Now for the stuff that we always forget.

Toilet paper. Even angels have to take a dump, I’m sure.

Soap, feminine supplies, plastic bags, a plastic bucket with a tight lid and disinfectant. You are going to need somewhere to… well, you know.

 

And last but not least: Sensible shoes, a deck of Uno, rain gear, sleeping bag, sunglasses, a passport, ATM card, and…

Birth certificate.

This may sound like a lot of equipment but trust me… when the time comes you will be coming up with more than these items that you wished you would have brought along. 

 

And where to store all these provisions?

 

I find that I can stow these items properly and secure in a shopping cart, with enough room left over for a parrot and a few discreet sex toys.

 

Remember, when you popped out of the womb earlier in this life? You were butt naked, bloody and snot running down your nose, not to mention, covered in mama slime.  Is it any wonder why they slapped you? Be prepared this go around for the new awakening, don’t get caught sniveling like a new arrival without a clue.  The Rapture can be fun and enjoyable if you are willing to put forth a little effort.  I mean, come on… what are the options?  Even if you do end up going south, you will still need a kit. 

 

Live like you were going to die.

A WLA Family Fairy Tale

Ok the two of you into bed, a short story and then it’s  lights out.

-YAY!-YAY!
-Ok, kisses. Snugly?
-Yes
-Yes.

Ok, once upon a time in the far far away, your great grandmother was on her way to the Piggy Wiggly to get fixings for the family Thanksgiving dinner. And out of nowhere, because, nowhere and in between thinking things that we all think about is when these things happen: there was this loud and thunderous “THUMP-Boom”. 

At first it was a mystery, onlookers thought she had been abducted, but then it was clear to one and all: Jesus had called her to heaven, right there, right in the middle of Wednesday afternoon, right in the middle of the week, right in the middle of her golden years. Right before Thanksgiving…

And that is why all kids have to sit at the kid’s table during Thanksgiving dinner: so that in case Jesus comes back for seconds, the kids won’t be confused for adults.

The END.