the comforts of religion (short prose)
ISN
Posts: 1,700
there was a hobo who lived in Manhattan.....he was a lush, and lived in a homeless shelter.....he attended church at the baptist chapel (they ran the shelter).....he was a bit like a Steinbeck character, maybe from Cannery Row.....always on the lam.....if there was an angle, he'd find it.....but his obession was alcohol.....he was a well-known character in the area he lived......one day, he was out for a stroll, hoping to panhandle enough for a can of brew....he spotted the Chaplain, and with not a bit of shame, approached him.....'Hi, Pastor Matthews', he said.....'well, good morning....isn't it a lovely day?'.....the church was emptying and Mrs Oliver was behind the Chaplain waiting to catch his eye in order to tell him about the arrangements for her brother's funeral.....her brother had been a rich philanthropist, and she wanted everything to be perfect....his wife was dead, but he was survived by two teenage children....the hobo, let's call him Mick, saw that the Pastor was in a good mood, and asked him for two dollars, so that he could buy a can of the strong stuff.....the Pastor however immediately chastised him, and told him it was too early to be drinking.....although a bit crestfallen, he chatted to the Pastor until he turned to walk over to a group of parishioners.....Mrs Oliver had witnessed this, and what with her vulnerable state of mind, felt an upsurge of compassion for Mick, and as soon as the Pastor walked off, she slipped him ten dollars.....Mick was ecstatic, not only could he buy two cans of beer, but he could play the poker machine, which he rarely had a chance to do....well, it being Easter Sunday, and Mick being relatively religious (mostly guilt), he won at the poker machine, and took home a cheque for $10,000....he was completely tipsy, as he hadn't been able to hold his drink these last few years......he walked past the Church, and the Chaplain, taking pity on what he thought was a poor drunk, gave him that two dollars which he had denied him earlier.....the moral of the story is.....keep on casting your bread upon the waters, soon they're gonna come back home on every wave.....
....they're asking me to prove why I should be allowed to stay with my baby in Australia, because I'm mentally ill......and they think I should leave......
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As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
Maybe I'll move to New York and become the bum in your story.
I'd be $10,000 richer.
Then again, money isnt everything.
A whisper and a chill
adv2005
"Why do I bother?"
The 11th Commandment.
"Whatever"
PETITION TO STOP THE BAN OF SMOKING IN BARS IN THE UNITED STATES....Anyone?
A whisper and a chill
adv2005
"Why do I bother?"
The 11th Commandment.
"Whatever"
PETITION TO STOP THE BAN OF SMOKING IN BARS IN THE UNITED STATES....Anyone?
but still a filthy stinkin alco, right? Well done Mick.
(Angelina Jolie)