The Oracle of Ass-Burn
INTERIOR. BEDROOM. A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT.
A man tosses and turns, the woman on the other side of the bed is in the deep repose of the REM sleep of an honest soul.
Along the wall of the man’s side of the bed is a small wizened figure and he’s singing softly, almost a lullaby to the couple. Barely heard above the rain lashing the windows.
FIGURE IN TATTERED QUEEN ANNE CHAIR
Heaven, I’m in heaven
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
And I seem to find the happiness I seek….
Hey, wakie wakie hands off snakie there Vulgarian
MAN IN BED SITS UP AND THROWS OFF COVERS
Christ…wah, who’s there? Is that? Couldn’t be. Joe Franklin….
You scared the shit out of me, is it you Lord? Do you know what time it is?
FRANKLIN
Close enough.
Is that some kind of joke. Do I know what time it is. Right. And, uh, for the record I did not rape that girl, what’s her name, Sarah Silverberg.
MAN
Silverman. God, isn’t she adorable and hilarious, what’s not to like.
FRANKLIN
Look Vulgarian, make no mistake God shall not be mocked for a person shall reap only what he sows.
MAN
Heard that one. Galatians, right? Or are you Deion Sanders all of a sudden going all third person on me.
Look Lord, I was not mocking you. I was mocking those pampered thieving clowns who refer to themselves as your humble servants on Earth. I mean c’mon where’s the love for the poor and the sick. You know, other than zygote-Americans.
It’s just that I don’t hear the Falwells, Dobsons, Robertsons and so forth goin’ on and on about poor people, the disenfranchised, helping the sick without reservation or easing suffering in our wealthy society.
FRANKLIN CROSSES HIS LEGS
What’s your point, here V, I don’t see you too often down at the soup kitchen or going door to door for the battered women’s shelter. Knowwhatahmean.
MAN
Word. I am an utterly compromised human being. But, hey, I don’t claim to speak for you or to you on my own damned network. All I got is the little pink blog that no one reads. And. All I’m sayin’ is that once you take all the shit about Jesus helping poor people and lepers and shit out of the New Testament, whadayagot left. Not much, right.
I mean all your guys wanna talk about is fuckin’ . You know, no gay fuckin’ No lesbian fuckin’. No premarital fuckin’. No fuckin’ without procreatin’ In case you haven’t noticed Lord there’s 6 and half billion of us on this muddy rock. And, really, blah fuckin’ blah.
FRANKLIN SMILES
Fucking makes the world go ‘round, Vulgarian.
MAN
You said it brah. Just how ‘bout you tell your boys to start goin’ on and on about alms for the poor and have ‘em go all Quaker on us and start opposing war and shit. You know, thou shall not kill and shit. I don’t remember seein’ any caveats on that granite monstrosity that Judge Moore carts around Alabama.
And, finally, because I gotta get some sleep here. How much money does the Catholic Church have anyway.
FRANKLIN
Now, V, you know that’s classified.
MAN
Thought so. How ‘bout Benedict gives it all to Rwanda and Uganda and lives in a grass hut at the top of the Spanish Steps for awhile. Robertson sells it all and moves to Alabama and builds houses, you know, like Jimmy Carter.
Oh right. Nevermind.
FRANKLIN
Look, chief, I gotta go. Just wanted to say you’re doin’ a heckuva job.
MAN
Now, wait a minute. Hell you mean by that.
FRANKLIN
Start worrying about things you can do something about. Dobson doesn’t know Corinthians from a hole in the ground. And Falwell, well, besides producing enough gas to melt all the glaciers in Greenland couldn’t find his own ass with both hands. Now, go get ‘em tiger.
MAN SITS UP AGAIN
After a dream about the green foamed sea that becomes a nightmare about a volcano the man sits up in bed, and says “Lemon Pledge” rubs his eyes squints at the clock radio that flashes 3:33, groans and lays back down on his side and drifts back to a fitful sleep.
END
A man tosses and turns, the woman on the other side of the bed is in the deep repose of the REM sleep of an honest soul.
Along the wall of the man’s side of the bed is a small wizened figure and he’s singing softly, almost a lullaby to the couple. Barely heard above the rain lashing the windows.
FIGURE IN TATTERED QUEEN ANNE CHAIR
Heaven, I’m in heaven
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
And I seem to find the happiness I seek….
Hey, wakie wakie hands off snakie there Vulgarian
MAN IN BED SITS UP AND THROWS OFF COVERS
Christ…wah, who’s there? Is that? Couldn’t be. Joe Franklin….
You scared the shit out of me, is it you Lord? Do you know what time it is?
FRANKLIN
Close enough.
Is that some kind of joke. Do I know what time it is. Right. And, uh, for the record I did not rape that girl, what’s her name, Sarah Silverberg.
MAN
Silverman. God, isn’t she adorable and hilarious, what’s not to like.
FRANKLIN
Look Vulgarian, make no mistake God shall not be mocked for a person shall reap only what he sows.
MAN
Heard that one. Galatians, right? Or are you Deion Sanders all of a sudden going all third person on me.
Look Lord, I was not mocking you. I was mocking those pampered thieving clowns who refer to themselves as your humble servants on Earth. I mean c’mon where’s the love for the poor and the sick. You know, other than zygote-Americans.
It’s just that I don’t hear the Falwells, Dobsons, Robertsons and so forth goin’ on and on about poor people, the disenfranchised, helping the sick without reservation or easing suffering in our wealthy society.
FRANKLIN CROSSES HIS LEGS
What’s your point, here V, I don’t see you too often down at the soup kitchen or going door to door for the battered women’s shelter. Knowwhatahmean.
MAN
Word. I am an utterly compromised human being. But, hey, I don’t claim to speak for you or to you on my own damned network. All I got is the little pink blog that no one reads. And. All I’m sayin’ is that once you take all the shit about Jesus helping poor people and lepers and shit out of the New Testament, whadayagot left. Not much, right.
I mean all your guys wanna talk about is fuckin’ . You know, no gay fuckin’ No lesbian fuckin’. No premarital fuckin’. No fuckin’ without procreatin’ In case you haven’t noticed Lord there’s 6 and half billion of us on this muddy rock. And, really, blah fuckin’ blah.
FRANKLIN SMILES
Fucking makes the world go ‘round, Vulgarian.
MAN
You said it brah. Just how ‘bout you tell your boys to start goin’ on and on about alms for the poor and have ‘em go all Quaker on us and start opposing war and shit. You know, thou shall not kill and shit. I don’t remember seein’ any caveats on that granite monstrosity that Judge Moore carts around Alabama.
And, finally, because I gotta get some sleep here. How much money does the Catholic Church have anyway.
FRANKLIN
Now, V, you know that’s classified.
MAN
Thought so. How ‘bout Benedict gives it all to Rwanda and Uganda and lives in a grass hut at the top of the Spanish Steps for awhile. Robertson sells it all and moves to Alabama and builds houses, you know, like Jimmy Carter.
Oh right. Nevermind.
FRANKLIN
Look, chief, I gotta go. Just wanted to say you’re doin’ a heckuva job.
MAN
Now, wait a minute. Hell you mean by that.
FRANKLIN
Start worrying about things you can do something about. Dobson doesn’t know Corinthians from a hole in the ground. And Falwell, well, besides producing enough gas to melt all the glaciers in Greenland couldn’t find his own ass with both hands. Now, go get ‘em tiger.
MAN SITS UP AGAIN
After a dream about the green foamed sea that becomes a nightmare about a volcano the man sits up in bed, and says “Lemon Pledge” rubs his eyes squints at the clock radio that flashes 3:33, groans and lays back down on his side and drifts back to a fitful sleep.
END
posted by The Vulgarian @ 11:21 PM
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