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Tuesday, 13 February 2007

The baby angel's name at birth was, and boy, or should I say girl... or both... this was some birth, Lilithanne Aconda Kniffelblossom. As you may have guessed the bouncing baby something or other was the only true hermaphrodite ever born in the rural community of Kniffelblossom, Indiana. At least s/he was the only one allowed to see the light of day since such country folk as occupied this land for centuries had been so filled with faith, fear, shame , guilt and superstition that in previously rumored cases the church council of the 1st and Foremost Christian Church of Kniffleblossom had decided that God, in His infinite mercy, certainly created this abomination with the good sense to die . And so they assisted the Good Lord's will by having such monstrosities ground up for fertilizer to benefit the flourishing crop of Kniffleblossoms for which the town and its surrounding farms were widely renowned and greatly blessed by the beneficent Deity.

For those readers with a deficient education in botany, the Kniffleblossom (Miserabilis Disappeariendis) claims to be a cure for depression, post-partum blues and the general "I feel like shit" condition that plagues most of humanity. Marketed as "Dr Hardy's Buddhist Delights" , the powder of these dried and crushed blossoms sold far and wide to provide the "burdened" with "mood relief" as the flowered package trumpeted in its advertisement.One of the challenges to this otherwise fated for great success product was the fact that the Kniffleblossom smells like beaver.

For those readers with a deficient zoological education or an olfactory malfunction beavers stink really bad. Their odor is a combination of putrid and putrefication times 10! Blame it on dam security since it is believed that these semi-aquatic creatures drive their natural predators away with a stench like no other.

You may wonder how the Kniffleblossom's saved their tiny freak from the wood chipper and so you shall continue to wonder since that part of our beaver tale is not in chapter 6. What is in our concluding (aren't you glad?) section of this episode is the strange dream that Lilithanne had throughout her youth. It seemed there was this strange prematurely balding motorcyclist with a leather jacket that bore patches from exotic nations throughout the world who would zoom in and out of her life appearing and disappearing in a cloud of dust screaming : " Argonauts , where are ye? "..."Argonauts, wherefore art thou?". Wherever she went, in fact even as she sat in meditative silence in the faded gray minivan while Buster rifled through her saddlebag of belongings and they waited for Paz's repair her mantra bore an odd resemblance to the cryptic call of her dream cyclist.


Chapters One - Three

Chapter Four

Chapter 5

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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