goto Appendx main menu Living a Slow Death...
Darell W. Fields
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When the voices became unbearable, they began to bounce and careen off the interior of his cranium. He thought it was the end. But from across the quad, on the other side of the academy, he heard news of a new-fangled religious sect that offered some hope. Mind you, things were becoming more and more desperate by the moment, and he was at the end of his rope. And a rope was like history, if you played with either for too long, it was impossible to get out the knot. 

The underpinnings of this yet-to-be-named sect fiercely believed in reincarnation. It was said that on Sunday mornings while facing the sun, they would tie fake tails—real tails having been lost to evolution—on themselves, bow down, and begin double-talking incantations to an idol that was supposedly a reformation of the original signifyin' monkey. Since there was no verifiable image of  the original signifyin' monkey, the image of the idol was cast as a dog, because everyone knew what a dog looked like. If the formation of this new religion was true, the porch monkey thought that this was indeed a great country. While he hadn't believed in all that "melting pot" bullshit, he felt from these recent events that the sanctity of religion was still intact. 

Although Theseus did not understand how the spirit of a monkey could have been reconciled with the image of a dog, he did not care—he was beyond questioning what was obviously divine. The only thing that mattered was that out there were communions being held in heavy double-talking. He found himself reflecting on a peace that he had never encountered and wondered if he himself were too old to saddle up a buzzard. He also wondered if the recurring voices in his head indicated that he was already too far gone. Appendx 2 page break 12 | 13 

Before long the buzzards were circling the sect.  They began to complain to the authorities (also buzzards) that this sect was more cult than anything else. They were upset by the fact that the members of the sect, as part of their dailyincantations, describing the sacrifice of female dogs, namely bitches. Theseus thought there should have been no real reason for concern. It was obvious, at least to him, that religious incantations should not be taken literally. He seemed to recall that a sect known as the Christians had been eating the same body and drinking the same blood for years and no one seemed to mind—especially those buzzards who called themselves Christians. Everyone knew that life was a bitch, and although Theseus knew many things, he was not yet old enough to know what a bitch was—but he knew his life and thought that "bitch," regardless of what it meant exactly, conveyed a precise description of his own life. He, unlike the others, admired the rhetorical sacrifices offered because the sect seemed to have found a religiously acceptable way to get rid of the damned things. 

It occurred to Theseus that people had to believe in something; he also knew that if people began to believe too much in something, they began to throw their beliefs around—even to those who had no use for them. In this respect it seemed that porch monkeys had evolved far more than people because, as far as he could remember, his species had never believed in anything. And this, he thought, was what made him different from others. He also knew that this incapacity to believe was what was keeping him on the porch. Oh sure, he had learned to mimic beliefs, but he himself did not believe anything that was of his own doing. It was this realization that raised the mumbling in his head. These were the voices he was determined to stop. He would have to act quickly. He began muttering to himself, "The master's tools can't destroy the master's house." 

This last thought made a lot of sense to him, so he decided to repeat it . . . 

In the moment of the third utterance, a human crossed his field of vision, heading toward  an "exit" of the porch. He leaped onto the person's back, gripping his neck. Onlookers watched in horror while other monkeys from other porches screamed in delight. Like a cowboy on a bronco gone wild, Theseus held on for his life (and his sanity). He began to realize that his holding on and the breathing of his host was incompatible . . . with this realization he squeezed tighter. 

the end Darell W. Fields

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