“Come on in and have some Pie”

The thermometer sports a minus sign preceding the temperature now and a walk to the mail box leaves my shrunken basket holding family jewels as blue and fragile as Christmas tree ornaments. It turns out worth it though on this magic morning since the content holds a greeting card; something I thought was an anachronism in this era of electronic communications so it was àpropos that the one I’m fingering over hot chocolate in front of a roaring fire is from Big Paulie. As he lay prostrate in Berkeley reading the classics and searching for beauty and meaning he found the time and inclination to make my day.

He writes a personalized inscription saying the dude on the cover looks like me and sure enough he does; further he writes that once back in the 80’s, at one of many memorable Salons at Crazy Debbie’s Palace, he saw my halo; which is surprising and odd since I didn’t know I had one of those. The colorized picture on the front of the card shows a rendered likeness of how the artist imagines St. Francis would have appeared; a hip ragged gypsy with torn priestly sackcloth showing the marks on his body resembling the wounds of Christ and holding a bible with a skull on it in one hand and a large crucifix in the other; a halo hovers above his bowl hair cut resembling a medieval Moe from the Three Stooges.

I question Paulie on this revelation and he assures me again that he did in fact see my halo. I don’t know what to make of this pronouncement and though it’s a tad disconcerting, better I surmise than the alternative fuzzy red horns. Since it’s the Master of the Universe’s birthday today I figure maybe I should start my very own religion; what with Big Paulie’s testimonial at the tent revival I envision and with him being about the size of a small airplane and having the look of a crusher; who’d dare doubt his charismatic assertion?

A name is important so after ponders I think I’ll call it the Book of Nick. I can borrow tenets from the big three trilogy of fantasy belief systems and hobble together an ethos; leaving out the doomsday predictions that all of them have instilled as bedrock since, yech; way to creepy. Every warm body eight to eighty; blind, crippled or crazy will be encouraged to join, with an exception for pedophiles and any similarly inclined defectives. I’ll have to create an aura of exclusivity and keep it simple to attract the simple-minded so I’ll have just one page in my book describing the only rule. Something very Mother Theresa/Dali Lama like “Be Good To Each Other” or maybe something less difficult like just “Be Good To Me”.

I’ll need a hook; something to magnetize and appeal to the masses and by the way; no Masses. I need to draw a crowd if I’m going to get my “money for nothing and chicks for free” so authenticity is required. I’ve got it. Join the Book of Nick and you get; Pie.

Donations accepted.


About circusinpurgatory
Nick Masesso Jr’s fictionalized short stories, poetry and prose have been published in the Starry Night Review, Elegant Thorn Review, Language and and Vagabond Press; the Battered Suitcase. His latest book “Armor of Innocence” and first book “Walking the Midway in Purgatory, a Journal” are available on-line and through bookstores.

5 Responses to Auras

  1. Murf says:

    When one donates has he been “nicked”? Do Californians think pie are square?

  2. James Mcfarland says:

    7.2 rating, read twice, better understanding, thanks for submission.

  3. Reblogged this on Nick Masesso, Jr..

  4. pinkbubblespinkbubbles says:

    I got pie, it’s pecan…well it’s your pie, for our Christmas dinner, but I’m signing up now! 🙂 ❤ P.S. I catch a glimpse of your halo too…when you aren't paying attention and I'm looking at you.

  5. Good to read again.

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