If I've noticed one thing about my new denomination, Anglican, it's that members tend to be very kind and gentle. They exhibit a great deal of patience and always have an encouraging word of inspiration to share. There are virtually no lengths to which they will not go to brighten the day of a total stranger. When engaging an Anglican, you may agree or disagree but you will often feel that you are speaking with someone who truly cares for you and only wants what they believe is the best for you.
That's not me though so believe when I say HOLY CRAP ON A CRACKER, MY NEIGHBORS ARE INSANE!!!
It all begins, curiously enough, at the beginning. I was sitting in my office puffing away on my new electronic cigarette (or "vaping" as the Emo McHipster doofuses assure me I should phrase it) and harming no one when I heard what sounded like a riot in my street.
Being the part time nosy neighbor that I am, I of course peered out my window expecting scenes of carnage and bloodshed.
I was instead greeted by the sight of a grown man sitting on a stool surrounded by cardboard getting pelted with wet sponges by a fairly large group of small children.
Now, I do not use illicit substances. I have never used illicit substances. I will never use illicit substances. I do not associate with anyone who uses illicit substances. I hate illicit substances. I also hate the weird, creepy sub-culture surrounding illicit substances.
However, I can't quite manage to shake the suspicion that the entire macabre sight might have been easier to process had I experience using illicit substances.
Life's little moment. They come along sometimes. And this is one of them. The English language is ill-suited to describe the full extent of the horror caused by seeing a grown man sitting on a stool surrounded by cardboard getting pelted with wet sponges by a fairly large group of small children.
But these things happen sometimes. Why, one time I was driving to work on a major local freeway. Traffic was even worse than usual due to a carbeque or collision or something further up the road. So, as today, I sat in my car minding my own business and harming no one when I glanced over to the right and saw what I now realize must surely some kind of harbinger of doomsday.
I saw a man in a black business suit riding a unicycle down the freeway's shoulder.
And presumably he was on his way to work.
THAT'S! MESSED! UP!
As soon as I could, I exited the freeway, went home and called in sick for the day. I told them I was sick anyway. I knew I couldn't tell the truth. "The apocalypse must surely be nigh! BECAUSE I JUST SAW ONE OF THE HORSEMEN!!!!"
I wasn't taking any chances. I simply didn't (and don't) see how a day that begins with a sight as messed up as that ending with ice cream cones and happiness. The whole thing could have turned into the Butch/Marcellus chapter of Pulp Fiction before lunch time for all I knew! If your day starts by seeing a dude in a business suit riding a unicycle on a freeway to get to work and you DON'T call out sick, sorry, you deserve whatever happens next!
Which, I realize now, isn't a particularly "Anglican attitude" but, hey, I'm working on it.
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