01 A Glass House in the Sand

Opening statements from The Virus; this book’s narrator. Everything contained by

<<this>>, is to be interpreted as monologue from the narrator or part of the ongoing

dialogue between the narrator and the story’s protagonist Finnegan. The protagonist will

be introduced by the narrator, The Virus, in due time.

Thank you,

thefatherphil.

 

<<there is said to be a glass house in the deserrrrt, and on the front of the house

there are seven different colored doors.  each door has a collection of images drawn

in blood on it>>

 

<<it is also said that a Wo-Man sees what sHE desires when SHe looks through the

glass walls. but when sHe picks a door to open, SHe finds what sHE deserves>>

<<this book is completely true. every word. i was there. i saw it all>>

<<first off, let me say that the meat of this story consists of a secret blend of the fate

of a Cook and a Dishwasher; and of, well..uh..meat,in general>>

 

 

“My tears have been my meat, day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?”

-Psalms 42:3 KJV Bible (sometime Anno Domini)

 

<<as for the Cook? well, you are the Cook. as for thy God? well, your god is your

country: ‘Merica’. and being a story about ‘Merica’, this is a story about the true

‘Merican’ god: Capitalism. Capitalism and its disciples, the Capitalists. the

Capitalists were/are the folks that run ‘Merica’, both East and West ‘Merica’, and all

that is above or below, if you asked their opinion on it (and the Capitalists really

hope that you would ask for their opinion.) the Capitalists decided that it was time

for another war. there had not been a war of note in several years. the multi-

national morale was really low. somebody important did not have enough capital to

invest in something important that they really really wanted. overpopulation had

been growing at an exponential rate. some sector of the public was butt-hurt about

the lack of respect someone was showing their religion or favorite sports team. best

of all, the Scientists finally figured out how to harness the energy of the sun. and

here is the kicker; it really did have something to do with smoke and mirrors after

all>>

<<there was a girl. she was about 149,600,000 kilometers away from the sun; or

92,960,000 miles, depending upon the kind of measuring stick that you were using.

this particular sun itself is only a star among multitudes of other stars in the Orion

Arm of the Milky Way galaxy. the Orion Arm is only but a minor arm of the Milky

Way galaxy stuck between the Sagittarius and Perseus Arms; and God only knows

how many girls live between those arms. now that we are on the subject, the Milky

Way is just one of billions and billions of galaxies, like ten to the eleventh power

billion. as far as galaxies go, the Milky Way is a pretty nice galaxy; not as nice as the

Sombrero galaxy, but way better than the aptly named Cigar galaxy. you do not

want to take a girl from the Cigar galaxy home to meet your mom. anyway, inside

the girl that lived inside of the earth, that was located three doors down from the

Sun, that was located inside the Orion Arm found inside the Milky Way galaxy; was

me>>

 

<<the girl was you. you were nineteen. you did not have a boyfriend. you did not

have enough money. you did not enjoy Football ‘Merican’ Style!! (shame on you.)

you did not have enough motivation to do anything to make your dreams a reality.

you told yourself that there would be plenty of time for dreams when you grew up

(which is what everyone who never does anything with their life tells themselves.

you often admitted this to yourself.) so you looked for work of some sort to get into

after high school. you were recruited to sell cigarettes and beer to other humans

who did not know what they wanted to do with their lives. at first it was cathartic,

but then selling prepackaged death made you a bit homicidal>>

 

<<me? well for now, let us just say that i am someone that previously did not have

any body until i found you. i was less than the trees, shorter than basketball player

threes (22ft according to Hoyle). but, hey, i am the one who gets to tell the story; and

it is all about you, so i just know that you are interested. i have never attended a

formal school, save the classroom of life; so forgive my literary transgressions. to

err is human, and i so want to possess precious humanity>>

 

<<as it happened, when the Scientists told the Capitalists that they could give them

unlimited energy to do with whatever they pleased; the Capitalists asked

themselves what any self-respecting group of con-men would:>>

“What is in it for the other guy vs. what is in it for me?”

– the Capitalists

<<answer? land. lots and lots of land. and the home of all this World’s religions!

well all the really juicy ones anyway. the Scientists decided the best place to build

their creation would be in the desert. there was an ideal desert in part of what

would become East ‘Merica’. in fact the only thing this particular desert had been

used for during the previous four thousand plus years, was war. ironically wars for

power at that. so, rationalized a certain scientist, we wrap up the war over power

and religion and finish up that whole Manifest Destiny project in one freedom

loving swoop. wipe the slate clean. remove the church from the rock. relocate the

bothersome natives. build a glass house in the sand>>

 

<<and so the Capitalists told the Politicians and the Politicians told the People, “we

just ended unemployment, and we raised wages! tired of being poor? you all work

for us now! tired of being fat? you are going to lose weight! you are going to become

better looking and debt free! annnnnd we are going to give you cool machines to

play with!” haircut, lift weights, gun in hand; come on kids, boots in the sand. for

the next ten years, military service was compulsory in what is now called West

‘Merica’. five years in for every citizen, less of they got the job done quicker.

quicker you come the clean plate, sooner you get the desert…errr…dessert. slip of

the tongue, yeah that is it. never mind what the left hand is doing, look at my right

hand. there was even a selling point for all those misguided souls who still held

onto religious nostalgia for the war torn area that was about to undergo extreme

home makeover; this glass house is going to be the new temple that all you churchy

kids have been drooling over at the God Store>>

 

<<that is how you became a soldier. later, when you were an “ordinary” ‘Merican’

citizen again, and a mother, you were reminded of what your commanding officer

said before becoming one with all things (literally. she was splattered all over you,

your assault rifle and the five other guys standing next to the IED that enlightened

her.), “whenever you become attached to someone or something, be it a moral idea

or a perfect painting, a lover, husband or child; they/it become(s) hostage to your

world.  Collateral Damage. you become Suffering’s Slave.” interestingly this

reminds me of a phrase that Anansi the time traveling spider often says to me when

i want too much of him,>>

“Silly Virus, Attachment leads to suffering.” – Anansi the Spider

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