Perfection, Imperfected
Perfection, Imperfected
By John Curran
Well, let me tell ya. It’s hard being a radical leftist bloodthirsty murderous lunatic who hates America, God, and even apple pie. I’m telling ya, as Rodney Dangerfield would say, “I get no respect.” So, once they tarred and feathered me for too much space taken up by my tent in a designated enclosure, I just said enough is enough. All my friends, some of them homeless people, that’s right I admit it, anyway they all said….Phoenix, Arizona? Why would I want to go there? Well the answer was I just threw a dart at my USA wall map ‘n that’s where it stuck. So that was it.
When I hit Phoenix, I looked for a job at this organization that I must keep secret as my good reputation is on the line. I applied for the job of janitor. I was invited up to Personnel. There was a group of them when I walked in, a dozen or so, all sitting in a circle. There was an empty chair in the middle of the circle, that was for me. “Sit yourself down right here ‘ol timer,” says the one guy, standing tall. The others, all dudes, were seated. They were all young.
“So, you want to take out the trash and stuff like that, huh? says the tall guy. “Well tell me this then, do you believe in Jesus? Well, they all turned to me intently, as if everything, everything, depended on my answer to this, and so I told them, Yes, I do. He’s a good neighbor. His last name is Garcia, Jesus Garcia, a very good next door neighbor. Of course this was all just made up. I was just lying to see how far all this would take me. The circle seemed to find all this amusing. Tall guy then asks me, “Would you die for this Jesus Garcia?” Well, I said, I would, “of course,” and that my cat would too, and has in fact, only recently come back from the dead. “The dead, the dead, yeah I like that,” says Tall guy and proceeds to get a chant going, “The dead, the dead, yes we do, we love the dead, the dead, the dead, the dead, the dead….”
And boy I tell ya they got going with that one, sure did. This spontaneous levity in fact took a few moments to die back down, before calm was finally restored. Tall tells me, “you can empty trash buckets but first the Queen must give final approval,” and then in walks this gorgeous blonde who walks right up to me and tells me that first I better get a haircut, the ‘company cut’ it was called. The idea being complete similarity to all the rest.
And then I woke up. Wow, wicked dream. Hey, no more late night Fox News for me, brother. And so I got up, got dressed, ‘n saw the sun was shining. I knew I was late but I did not want to miss the Sunday service, where I wash the feet of the homeless.
