Even as they Smile, Even as they Cry

Knuckles ponder, “Perhaps I don’t deserve happiness.” He believes that his purpose is to suffer; and that he might as well accept his misery with a big fake grin. He smiles invisibly, as inside he embraces his most loyal companion – pain. Adversary or friend, Knuckles wonder if pain is intelligent. That if Knuckles becomes content to suffer, would pain then become his friend. Would they share secrets and laugh at the misfortunes of others? Would pain eventually lower its guard that Knuckles might sneak away; or would pain keep an ever-watchful eye, even as they smile, even as they cry.

Hmm, Thinking...

The remarkably talented Melanie, and Jennifer have nominated my blog as a Thinking blog.

I am both honored and flattered - and I would like to pass this honor on to three people that have inspired me.

1. Susan is an incredible writer, versatile and highly creative. It was Susan who first encouraged me to begin writing a blog; and she has inspired me every since.
2. Mella is one of the most talented writers I have known. Visit her page and see for yourself. Her work speaks for its self.
3. Cath is a writing machine; and I am amazed each time I visit her page, at how diligent and creative she is.

Thank you again, Melanie.

Crocodile Tears

One day, my cousin John and I were goofing around in the backseat of the car while our grandfather drove. I was ten years old, while John was a chubby eight. “Shut up!” Granddaddy suddenly barked, “And stop moving around back there!” I could tell that he was serious, but John giggled in mischief. “I said shut up!” Granddaddy warned once more, “Or I’ll give you a backhand knuckle-slap in the mouth!” John finally got the message and tried to behave. “Hmm,” I thought to myself, “I’ve never seen a backhand knuckle slap before.” Then I silently reached over and took some of John’s thigh between my index finger and thumb, pinching him as hard as I could, twisting and meanly digging my fingers into him. John tried to push my hand away, but I was too strong. Finally, he cried out; but before he could finish the first note, granddaddy -without looking- swung backwards and gave John a hard backhand-knuckle slap in the mouth. “I told you to shut up!” granddaddy yelled. John cried, holding his mouth as if he had lost a tooth, while I silently had a hard belly laugh, so hard that tears rolled down my cheeks.

Nemesis

From where rest I have sought, came rejection, “I shall teach ye suffering; not in words, but in deeds. All, and as bitter tea ye shall absorb.” Where I would resist, circumstances insist, “You will learn, one way or another; and that I no longer care; your past, your present, and your future; it matters not what ye do here.” Where I would beseech, deafness greets my charge, “Ye not swift of wit; how pathetic ye are.” Then shall I smile, be met with doubt, “What be ye grinning about?”

Sticks and Stones

A small detachment of Marines from my command deployed to the Philippines. They had authorization to setup their radars in the boondocks, where they found themselves surrounded by thick jungle. They were far from the party scenes, and scantily clad women that many of the younger Marines had envisioned.

Large black jungle monkeys were their company, as the monkeys would often sneak into the camp and steal whatever they could carry, particularly food. The Marines would chase the monkeys away with sticks and stones; but as days went by, the monkeys grew increasingly aggressive.

The Marines bout with the monkeys came to a climax one afternoon while the Marines were lounging in the shade. The jungle suddenly came alive with screams and frightened animals. The screams were coming from the monkeys, whom had gathered themselves into a large angry mass.

When the Marines looked towards the commotion, they saw the monkeys coming up the dirt road. Some of the monkeys were carrying sticks and stones, and throwing them in the direction of the camp. The sticks and stone would travel only a few feet, as the monkeys had poor technique. The frustrated monkeys would then move closer, pick up their weapons, and repeat the action. Each time, they drew closer to the camp, angrier, and louder.

The Marines, greatly outnumbers and without their weapons, knew that while the stick and stones were not a large threat, it was only a matter of time before the frustrated monkeys fell back on a more traditional attack, hitting and biting.

The Marines then retreated into their Radar Vans and watched through reinforced glass at the frantic monkeys destroyed everything they could get their hands on. When the monkeys finished, they quietly gathered what food they could carry and left. It was a much wilder party than anyone had envisioned.