Monday, July 22, 2013

A Mojo Risin'

It has begun.  I witnessed the first signs just last night.  He admitted it without knowing. My oldest child has "My Curse".  His life will be forever altered.  People will view him differently.  There's no escaping it.  Like the dread curses of old, it has transferred from father to first born.

Just what is this curse you ask....PEOPLE TALK TO ME!!!!

They tell me EVERYTHING.  I don't know why.   We bear the mark of St. Alphonsus.  OH THE HUMANITY!!!  I've never fully understood why people tell me EVERYTHING.  They just do.  It started in childhood.  Somehow, I became a confessor.  It's just plain odd sometimes.  

I was once stargazing with a PhD in Physics from a local university.  We'd never met.  We'd never even see each others' faces, and still couldn't.  We were silhouettes oohing and aahing over each celestial artwork that could be brought into our respective scopes.  I'd later learn he's a rather reserved fellow who doesn't divulge much.  He told me his life story.  He spoke of his childhood, his marriage, his child, his divorce.  About two hours in, he stopped and said "I'm sorry.  I don't know why I'm telling you all this."  My reply was simple.  "It's OK.  People talk to me.  They tell me stuff.  I'm not sure why."

Without knowing he'd done so, Connor confessed that he bears the curse just last night.  He was regaling me with the things a married couple who started communicating with him via an online game's chat function.   They've told him their family problems.  It was hard not to laugh as he filled me in on the things he'd been told.  He finally told them both "Look!!  I ain't Dr. Phil!!  I'm 18, single, and have NO IDEA why you're telling me all this!!  You need professional help!!"  "DAD!!!!  These people are SCREWED UP, and they're TELLING ME about it!!!!"  I must admit.  They boy has his old man's penchant for spinning a good yarn as well.  It was hard to try and maintain composure as he described the experience.

Whatever mark it is we bear, "the villagers" can see it.  There's no escape.  Like lycanthropy, the curse has propagated itself to the next generation.  I'm convinced being a werewolf would be far more fun.

Thus ends this week's confession.

Bear witness to our curse.

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