A Regular
08/06/09, 09:21 PM
And Joseph stood on a crooked stool, which in turn stood on an even more crooked deck, which stood on a backyard in suburban Pennsylvania as Grandfather crouched in the woods behind a makeshift barrier while his brother unburied a tin of antique plastic dinosaurs. He crouches and springs forward, trying to reach. Still too short, tumbles back to earth. Joseph lies for a minute, just staring past their cross shaped flagpole and into Heaven.
Riinnnnngggg. Alarm clock? If only.
Joseph wills himself back to his feet and slums over to the fence / mail slot, picking up his issued daily issue of the U.S. Times. With very little piqued interest he scans the headline: Newly found scrolls found further linking the United States to Jesus of Nazareth! He sighs and tosses it aside. “David… hurry and rebury those before mum returns.”
At twelve years old David is just now settling into his expected place within society. At eighteen he will be allowed exit from the yard and into the larger pen called town. At thirty he may even gain allowance into surrounding towns, but for now he remains in his kingdom. “Alright, alright.” David’s grandmother had entrusted him with this tin not long before she had been taken away. She explained that they were these ancient things called dinosaurs, and that they had inhabited earth long before humans. David told his mother this story and she was immediately taken aback. The tin was promptly buried in the yard, for it would surely be discovered by officials if discarded by any other means. David continued asking questions but mother would only offer stories from The Bible, such as how God created America on the first day and on the second he created George and Barbara. On the third day celestial beings were created, Republikahs and Democratees. On the fourth day a currency was created for Americans to rule with; oil. On the fifth day God created a nutrient to keep his children as fat as (if not fatter than) their pockets; freedom fries. On the sixth day nuclear energies were created to decimate any and all religion, besides ChristiHannity of course. And on the seventh day God hunted near his ranch the elusive Nietzsche, while marveling at his wonderful creation. David still wasn’t completely satisfied with his mother’s stories, so she gave him his very own Bible: The Grand Old Testament as edited by the Grand Old Party. Sometimes he found use in it as a doorstop. Anyways, the point trying to be conveyed is that David has to keep his practice a secret. Although he partially knows the truth, he will soon just become another textbook child. “Grandfather, did you take my shovel?”
And Joseph stood on a crooked chest, which in turn stood on an even more crooked stool, which stood on an exceedingly crooked deck, which stood on a backyard in suburban Pennsylvania as Grandfather crouched in the woods behind a makeshift barrier while his brother finished burying a tin of antique plastic dinosaurs. He crouches and springs forward, trying to reach. Just short, tumbles back to earth. Joseph lies for a minute, just staring at their cross shaped flagpole and into nothing.
At seventy years old Grandfather has overstayed his place in society. His time is nigh; after all, with no social security why not just rid of those who need it the most? Grandfather’s tale begins before he was Grandfather, before he was even Father. This tale begins with Son. Enlisted at the age of eighteen, (mostly for scholarship benefits, not out of nationalism) Son saw battle within weeks. He was told this was a battle of freedom, but soon after the war ended headlines changed. Apparently, it was God’s will for Americans to take over the land of oil. Insurgents spared nobody in Son’s battalion but he, this incident would scar him for life. Jolting awake nights. Sweating. Gun cocked in hand. He never left the battlefield. At least gas prices fell.
With age came further deterioration of the mind. Before all restrictions and deterioration had set in, he allowed Joseph to read a soon to be revoked work of literature. The Koran. He found it’s poetry beautiful and it’s passages moving. It was outlawed a week after his first reading. Without beauty or emotion in any of the allowed material Joseph began to starve. His mind began to rot from lack thereof. He became a shell.
And Joseph stood on a Bible, which lay on a crooked chest, which in turn stood on an even more crooked stool, which stood on an exceedingly crooked deck, which stood on a backyard in suburban Pennsylvania as grandfather died in the woods behind a makeshift barrier while his brother forgot about a buried tin of antique plastic dinosaurs. He crouches and springs forward, reaching. Joseph is impaled on the cross shaped flagpole. He is conscious for a minute, staring at the image of crucified Jesus wrapped in an American flag.
Riinnnnngggg. Alarm clock? If only.
Joseph wills himself back to his feet and slums over to the fence / mail slot, picking up his issued daily issue of the U.S. Times. With very little piqued interest he scans the headline: Newly found scrolls found further linking the United States to Jesus of Nazareth! He sighs and tosses it aside. “David… hurry and rebury those before mum returns.”
At twelve years old David is just now settling into his expected place within society. At eighteen he will be allowed exit from the yard and into the larger pen called town. At thirty he may even gain allowance into surrounding towns, but for now he remains in his kingdom. “Alright, alright.” David’s grandmother had entrusted him with this tin not long before she had been taken away. She explained that they were these ancient things called dinosaurs, and that they had inhabited earth long before humans. David told his mother this story and she was immediately taken aback. The tin was promptly buried in the yard, for it would surely be discovered by officials if discarded by any other means. David continued asking questions but mother would only offer stories from The Bible, such as how God created America on the first day and on the second he created George and Barbara. On the third day celestial beings were created, Republikahs and Democratees. On the fourth day a currency was created for Americans to rule with; oil. On the fifth day God created a nutrient to keep his children as fat as (if not fatter than) their pockets; freedom fries. On the sixth day nuclear energies were created to decimate any and all religion, besides ChristiHannity of course. And on the seventh day God hunted near his ranch the elusive Nietzsche, while marveling at his wonderful creation. David still wasn’t completely satisfied with his mother’s stories, so she gave him his very own Bible: The Grand Old Testament as edited by the Grand Old Party. Sometimes he found use in it as a doorstop. Anyways, the point trying to be conveyed is that David has to keep his practice a secret. Although he partially knows the truth, he will soon just become another textbook child. “Grandfather, did you take my shovel?”
And Joseph stood on a crooked chest, which in turn stood on an even more crooked stool, which stood on an exceedingly crooked deck, which stood on a backyard in suburban Pennsylvania as Grandfather crouched in the woods behind a makeshift barrier while his brother finished burying a tin of antique plastic dinosaurs. He crouches and springs forward, trying to reach. Just short, tumbles back to earth. Joseph lies for a minute, just staring at their cross shaped flagpole and into nothing.
At seventy years old Grandfather has overstayed his place in society. His time is nigh; after all, with no social security why not just rid of those who need it the most? Grandfather’s tale begins before he was Grandfather, before he was even Father. This tale begins with Son. Enlisted at the age of eighteen, (mostly for scholarship benefits, not out of nationalism) Son saw battle within weeks. He was told this was a battle of freedom, but soon after the war ended headlines changed. Apparently, it was God’s will for Americans to take over the land of oil. Insurgents spared nobody in Son’s battalion but he, this incident would scar him for life. Jolting awake nights. Sweating. Gun cocked in hand. He never left the battlefield. At least gas prices fell.
With age came further deterioration of the mind. Before all restrictions and deterioration had set in, he allowed Joseph to read a soon to be revoked work of literature. The Koran. He found it’s poetry beautiful and it’s passages moving. It was outlawed a week after his first reading. Without beauty or emotion in any of the allowed material Joseph began to starve. His mind began to rot from lack thereof. He became a shell.
And Joseph stood on a Bible, which lay on a crooked chest, which in turn stood on an even more crooked stool, which stood on an exceedingly crooked deck, which stood on a backyard in suburban Pennsylvania as grandfather died in the woods behind a makeshift barrier while his brother forgot about a buried tin of antique plastic dinosaurs. He crouches and springs forward, reaching. Joseph is impaled on the cross shaped flagpole. He is conscious for a minute, staring at the image of crucified Jesus wrapped in an American flag.