“Count the bodies like sheep…”

"Veins rhymes with rains but you can only see one of them." --Gregory Sherl, Monogamy Songs
“Veins rhymes with rains but you can only see one of them.” –Gregory Sherl, Monogamy Songs

Age isn’t for the weak, it’s been said. I’m no stranger to weakness, but I can say that I’ve never been afraid of growing old. Useless, maybe. Dying, once

Today, [redacted] state that I accompany [redacted] to [redacted] in order to help with the shopping. Why is it that [redacted] always feels that stealing people from [redacted]’s department is perfectly fine? And when our work isn’t up to par, we’re blamed for not doing anything.

On the way to [redacted], [redacted] flips through the radio looking for a Christian station. I chuckle which quickly turns to a gulp when the realization sets in. She’s not joking. We’re  going to listen to Christian music all the way to [redacted]. She states in a couple of years that I’ll be listening to it, as well. Only if, in a couple of years, the hand of this deity known as God parts the skies and bitch slaps me. Otherwise, I will continue not to cripple myself with a crutch of a higher power when there are answers that need seeking.

And why is it so hard to believe that Agnostics and Atheists exist? She tells me that she needed a lot of light in her life. I bite back the urge to suggest the investment of a flashlight. Or, at the very least, a book lamp

As of late, I’ve been especially unnerved at work. With the nuisance (more on her later, perhaps) and Grace’s termination, the last thing I need is someone stating that if I accept their imaginary friend into my life, I’ll somehow be happier. I’ve traveled down that path and I felt nothing. Besides, my religion is my son. My religion is making sure that I mold him into a freethinking, open-minded individual. And should he seek a higher power, then so be it. I won’t let my beliefs poison his like so many believers do with their children, raising little clones who can’t answer the simple question of why the are religious with anything but, “Well, I was raised this way.” So was I, and shackles of ignorance are easily broken.

Not to say those who are religious are ignorant. But if you don’t know why you’re a Catholic, Baptist, Mormon, Jew, etc., then you are. Sorry.

I have this short story I wrote a few years ago sitting somewhere in a box. I remember the first lines because it was a prompt piece that I wrote for a class, or for fun. On the day he was fired, Gilbert left his home through the back door. It goes one to describe his boss as  a flank of a man. A shitty head of hair–the tendrils of a squid sucked into a vortex. The slits of lizard eyes secured behind wire frames.

Considering the whole thing, I think predicted that I would meet [redacted] and grow to abhor him. Fancy that.

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