Wednesday, November 02, 2016


a quaint western tale

Judge liked to open the warehouse
of certain mornings. To think.

His satellite office there deathly quiet
at 6 AM.

Not so, that Thursday when actual
cowboys cut the locks to the warehouse
gates to establish a shortcut getting
their cattle to the stockyard.

For some reason the driven beasts all let
go at the same time.

And the expression about the shit hitting
the fan held true.

Actually the fan running into Excelsior
Hair Products, covering Judge as a result.

Actually too, getting him to shriek as to
the end of the world.

For he was a Tribulationist, though
he thought the world would end in
unspeakable sin. Thus inevitable fire.

That the world might end first in shit,
and in a small Texas town chock-a-block
with churches...well, defied whatever logic
remained in the world.

Things, of course, went on the same half-
ass manner, but Judge, unconvinced, found
his way, with the help of his wife and children,
to the Colonel Parkham and Sons Rest Home.

There he belongs to a bible study group,
indeed the whole place is one.

“Well, the world has ended! But this
new one...!” he begins re Matthew 17 20.

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