Photo purchased from Ironica/Shutterstock.com
Set 1, #2: The Devil-Girl’s Tale …
So, Hannah-Manna and the baker story is pretty cute, you know, if you are an adult. People, like, can have many shades, but who said society is right? Society makes the crime, the mental illness, and the trauma. It often manufactures it in spite of human feeling for a powerplay and political gain. I may be a little ghost-, god-, or devil-girl, but it’s much easier to see two shades than the shades of a rainbow.
Life is not meant to be convenient, a drive-through on the way to heaven. Rather, such sits on a mountain-top, way up high, like, above knee-jerk thinking. The path forward is riddled with jagged rocks, and one misstep is often certain death. Lava and cold waterfalls hurl toward you because there could be no journey without the vulnerability in getting there.
You all, like, know that when you faced the most trying moment that the success was that much sweeter. The seed grew in spite of toxic soil. It may grow in perfect soil but will wither with the first negative condition. Life is not supposed to be safe, harmless. That is Hell. You must build character, but I can tell you this. Each of you can overcome, but you cannot overcome while harvesting anger and revenge because the forces above and below you will blot out your journey … and you.
What happens if you, yes, you, love someone you should not or cannot love? Does law make that not love? Is a brain under construction not capable of the memories love brings? Your brains are always under construction, duh! It’s called brain plasticity, and if so, because kids are kids, cannot a kid have a powerful, loving memory that shapes for the good, the grey, and the bad? The problem is that you silly little humans always think of the worst. So, you become the worst: silly little humans. Like, you know, abuse is harmful, but can you name a single person that has not faced harm? It’s not about the harm you face. It’s about overcoming it. One cannot use one’s own measure of pain as a guide to others’ pain. Can you get to the mountain-top unscathed, and if you are unscathed, would you know life’s journey? Happiness is achieved not in spite of pain but in acceptance of that pain and in making such pain work for you. If not, you will never survive but will always be a victim of every single thing that fails to go your way.
You know why I call you silly little humans? Because you can do better, get ahead of your emotion and fear, but you have to, like, stop texting long enough and pay attention. You cannot skim your way to heaven looking only at summaries and conclusions. You know, there are actually some people that Google heaven? What does Wikipedia say? [amusing herself, laughing] Language can never define Nirvana.
You cannot escape the pain, nor can you have life without it. Humans, as you are and should be, seek thrill and uncertainty, danger. Those of you that gave in to the bear a long time ago, you’ve made yourself forever victims, meat in a slaughter house.
So, let me tell a little story as to why your silliness is so troubling. Now, I gotta warn, it’s somewhat gruesome, but there is no other way to tell it. I am the bad girl, you know, “daddy’s little monster,” the devil after all.
There are these two cops that respond to an animal abuse call. They get there and, like, apparently; this is gross, this woman was doing what you adults do with a horse. Well, the cops try not to laugh. The whole thing is kinda stupid, you know, but the woman finally admitted to it, but she, at first, was saying that she was helping the horse make a baby.
Now, OMG! I am thinking to myself, it’s, like, a male horse. Male horses cannot have babies, so what is she talking about? But, you see, I was one of those that got a good sex education, you know, appropriate. So, there was only a male horse, no female. Anyway, you get the point, and if you don’t get the point, let’s just say that a fifth leg is not what your mom said it was. [giggling then grimacing] Nor do turtles hug at the zoo. Call it what it is, dammit! They were mating. It that so hard? We cause ignorance in children, and that ignorance is used to harm them. [rolling her eyes, angry]
So, like, the police officers went to their favorite juicy burger joint to discuss the case, quietly of course. [putting finger to lips] One cop, Tyrone, liked his burgers rare, so whenever he took a bite, the blood oozed from the buns. [Making a yuk face] The generic white cop of the force liked his burger burnt. He often said to Tyrone, “Mine won’t moo when you bite it.”
“God, Ty, you got cook that shit or it’s going to moo one of these days. I mean, I cannot watch you without losing my appetite! Shit.”
Tyrone, seemed to enjoy his burger that much more, ignoring his buddy’s disgust. “So, remember that case where someone called and said that a person was sexually torturing a white mustang?” Starts laughing.
“Hm, a, a white mustang … oh yeah [starts laughing] They were collecting semen from the male horse. That shit was crazy.”
“Yeah,” Tyrone interrupted. “I wanted to charge the shit out of them, but it turns out. [pauses, eating burger]. It turns out, that they use this steel rod and stick it up the horse’s ass. Get this, they electrocute his prostate to force him to ejaculate.”
“I know, I remember. I mean, I am not a horse or anything …”
“Yeah,” interrupts Tyrone, “That is what your wife tells me, but we, you know, we take care of that.”
“Don’t go there, Ty. Don’t you go there.” [points his finger at Tyrone]
Generic white cop recalls his visit at the slaughter house and cannot eat his hamburger. Tyrone’s bloodied one is giving him flashbacks.
“God, I feel like I am on a fucking crime scene; my buddy murdered a cow. This has me thinking, have you been to a slaughter house? I had a case …”
“Nah, at this rate,” said Tyrone, “At this rate, we both will be pregnant having cows with all this semen shit.”
“Now, my point,” said generic white cop, “is that if I were a horse. No, let’s say it better. If you were that horse …”
“Oh, come on, dude,” starts laughing …
“No, seriously, if you are a horse, how would you want your sperm to get collected?”
“Shit, not that way … no, I’d like some nice horse’s ass up in there that I can, you know, tear it up.”
“I see you have given horses’ asses a lot of thought. Now, you don’t have a female horse around. You have to either get electrocuted or our ‘offender’ lady here …. maybe even a dude …”
“Awe, no, no, no dude [Tyrone getting homophobic], that may be what you all want. I ain’t judging, but no dude.”
“Shit, remember the case all over social media about the guy, the gay guy that died when the horse thrusted too far? It was right there on media. Talking about tearing something up. His friend took him to the ER because he was, well fucked up, and the guy died. The friend got scared and left his friend in the ER. The cops there got suspicious of foul play, so they investigated and found the videos of the horse and the guy right out there in public. So that is why we made that illegal now. Public outrage, but this stuff has been going on for centuries, as long as there have been people.”
Generic white cop and Tyrone sit in thought for a moment. Then generic white cop goes on, “No one cared about the guy. They rallied around the horse. They said the horse was abused and sent the horse to a special horse abuse sanctuary …”
“Shit,” Tyrone interrupted, “You are kidding me?” [laughing].
“I am serious. They even had horse psychologists that help the horse with trauma! It’s a bunch of bullshit! People are idiots.”
“Yeah,” said Tyrone irritated, “I bet the horse talks to them, too. Stupid shit. I mean I am not with sex with animals, but …”
“So that is my point. If you and I are horses, “would you take getting electrocuted over a hand …”
“Awe, man, you’re grossing me out! Here have some of my bloody burger” [pushing it toward generic white cop].
“Get that shit away from me! I recalled this after we had that other case, remember, we both let that case go because they are collecting semen from the horse, but in the old days, well even currently, this woman jerks off a horse to collect semen for fertilization, that is fine, right, but what is abuse? If I am the horse, I don’t want a rod stuck up my ass, you know? And getting electrocuted. The hand sounds better.”
Tyrone becomes very serious and pauses. “Sir, you are my buddy. How long have we been together on the force? Is it 12 years?”
“About 13,” says generic white cop.
“You, sir, are not a horse, okay. It’s okay. Let it go. Say it to the wind, man. I, generic white cop, am not a horse. I wish I was a horse, in length and girth, but not my horse’s ass with a rod stuck up it.”
“Shut the hell up!”
Tyrone bursts out laughing. “Look, it’s above our pay grades, man. I don’t give a shit what this woman is doing with the horse, but we go through the motions, right? Think about it. You and I are sitting here on taxpayer’s dollars discussing horse sex [laughing more]. How pissed off would people be if they knew. [Making voice into announcer’s] “Ladies and gentlemen, it has come to our attention that our police resources can be found in a barn among horny horses and desperate people. You all have no sense of reality, and when you hear it, you all are outraged at what so many of you do in private.”
“Do you know that they sell horse dildos everywhere? Dogs, too!” Said generic white cop.
“I ain’t blind though my mother thought I would be. Now, what you doing looking at dildos?”
“I wanted to get mine a gift, you know, and I could not believe it, right on Pramizon. I mean a kid could see it.”
“You mean the dog dildo, horse dildo, or human one? Kids do, but they don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s just a big pencil sharpener or, you know, a really big pin for a pin cushion; yeah, are you top or bottom?”
“Honestly, you are too much” [generic white cop now getting homophobic]. I was curious.”
“You are not on trial here. I know what you mean, but if we let this lady go because we use prosecutorial discretion, you and I get one less booking. Who’s going to pay for these burgers? So, the fact is that she was not collecting semen with her hands now. It was for sex.”
“So, we should charge her?” Said generic white cop with concern.
“We have little choice. She admitted guilt.”
“I know, Ty, but it just seems weird. We kill animals and eat them. That is why I cannot eat this. We kill animals and use them all the time. I was, like I said, at the slaughter house. I was fucking vegan for year. Do you know what they do? Do people know? [Tyrone shakes his head no but seems interested]. They shock the cow by driving some bolt into its head. It’s still alive, then they hang it by its back legs and then cut it’s throat so that the blood runs out …”
“That is some gruesome shit” [still chowing on his bloody burger].
“The other cows look on. Seem terrified. Then, well, you get the picture. So, I am here now thinking we don’t charge slaughter houses with animal abuse, right? [Tyrone, relishing burger, shaking head no]. But we charge a woman for playing with a horse’s …”
“It’s fucked up …” Tyrone interrupts. “It’s a game. It’s all a fucking game …”
I mean, think about it. We spay and neuter our dogs. Did we ask them? Excuse me, Rover, do you consent to having your balls cut off?” Hey, Prancing Poodle, [Tyrone laughs] do you want to never have babies as your body was designed to do? But then if owner and Rover make the beast with two backs it’s abuse? It does not make any fucking sense!” [generic white cop drives hand into the table].
“I hear you. I hear you. You are getting burned out. We cannot think about that. We don’t make the laws. We enforce them. She said she was guilty, so maybe the court will go easy on her, give her Horse Hung Anonymous therapy and let her go.” Said Tyrone.
“But, technically, they can put her on the Sex Offender Registry in this state.”
“Sir,” says Tyrone, “it sucks to be her literally [chuckling to himself]. We don’t make the rules. You are too sensitive. I worry about you man. I’ve been on the force ten more years. Twenty-three years in total, generic white cop. I got … for many reasons … I got to make things funny. I am a Black man in a white town telling rich white folks to behave. It’s fucked up. It’s a game [getting excited for the first time]. Life is a game.”
Tyrone goes on, finishing his burger. “Come on man, do you think the ones making these laws don’t do this shit! Really? One woman, a big wig, came to the ER attached to her German Shepard. I always thought people in this country are a little too fond of Rover. [Shaking his finger] They make child porn laws so that they can look at the cases, the porn. They buddy up with Epstein-like folks on “virgin” islands, and remember how the Panama papers disappeared? Epstein killed himself! Let’s say, I think, he had a little help, some assistance. You’ve got to face reality. Being a cop is just a real cool way to do the laundry, but our laundry does not involve clothes. We don’t put clothes in a machine. We put people in the machine, people that need help. You know what I mean about the machine, generic white cop?” Tyrone pauses. They sit with uncomfortable silence.
“Shit, I do this job because once in a while we actually get a dangerous person off the streets. Because, for me, being a Black cop means that I beat the machine, even if some of my folks, my family, see me as a traitor. I may run the machine, but I am no longer being minced by it, like a fucking sausage.”
The two officers sit, pretending to be eating even though done. Then, Joe, the generic white cop, taps Tyrone’s arm with affection. They get up and leave together.
The woman was never charged.
Like, really, now, I am not going to comment on this story. Not because a devil-girl doesn’t know but because you all think that devil-girls are devil girls because they do know, all the while, you know, innocence and ignorance is bliss. But sometimes, things are as abusive as we make them up to be, while horrible abuse is totally okay.
You cannot skim your way to heaven, duh. Stop, because whatever you are doing isn’t as important this, your existence, you know, facing the truth over your society’s fake safe places. If you are too busy, let us, like, hope that you are too busy to die.
Do you, all, uhm, think that you are a fair people? Really? Because OMG, you are only fair to people you like. Did, like, the Native Americans write their history … in English? Come on-ah! [shrugging shoulders, rolling eyes] Those that wanted them extinct wrote it. Like, does a loser in a war get a monument? Do you listen to the killer’s story, the sex offender’s? Ah, you say they are all the same! What if God held such prejudice toward you?
So, here, let, like, us consider Satan for a moment. Is he not, in the eyes of a democratic people, right?
Oh, that scares you, so you call me names? Why does it scare you so to think from your enemy’s point of view? There are brave soldiers and scared soldiers on every side. Is a child different according to what flag waves over their heads? They are the same in spirit to that of their enemy, hmm. [serious look]
You have to take the plunge with me because every thought and idea that you have someone else has had before you. Everything you think of was put there by someone else. You are not original until you claim yourself for yourself. That is the first step. Without being aware, you are nothing more than the living dead. Mise will be a slug, you should. [brushing her little arm hairs with her hand as if they were bugs]
You wanna know a secret? [bends forward close to you] Most people go through life with their eyes closed. This tale, no, no, no! I will deconstruct your world because your world is a myth in spite of truth because you only believe the ONE in power. That makes all of you slaves. The devil-girl is here to liberate you and humanity from your living myth … from [shows tongue, touching her upper lip] Hell.
So, if I were like Satan, and if you all are gods, as Jesus said, then you are all Satans, something like the curse of original sin except that there is no such thing as original sin, you know, guilty by association. That is a silly little human thing that manipulative humans use to keep you stupid sheep bleating in fear for yourselves …. [grinding teeth] to save yourselves. Why save you, and not the bunny? Why put yourself ahead?
So, once upon a time, God decided that he wanted angels to serve his every whim and need, so he created angels. He told the angels to follow him and do everything for him, him, him, him, him, him!
He wanted them to obey. Satan stood up and said, “No, I will not serve you.” God, it’s reported, got mad and threw Satan out of heaven, and, OMG, long story short, Satan became the ruler of hell, got around to tempting naked, childish Eve with his big, huge, phallic snake disguise, and got her to eat the cool-because-it’s-forbidden fruit with Adam. Because Satan is a bad guy, or, oops, gal.
Duh, that is not real. Satan really said what all of you would say, “Just because you made me does not mean you own me.” Is this not fair? Shouldn’t the World Health Organization, the United Nations, impeach God for human rights violations? Make God a sex offender for violating a young teen girl in Mary, huh? Did she have a choice? “Oh, excuse me God, but I’m kinda with Joseph here.” Oh, my bad, like, because angels are not humans, right, right. They are just immortal beings, objects to treat badly because God can, huh? [rolling eyes]
In truth, Satan was the first liberator of humanity. Remember that Libertas is the goddess of night, darkness, yet she holds the torch to freedom, toward liberation. Why should Satan serve God? Yep, I know what I am going to get. Circular logic. He must obey God because God is God, OMG! He must obey God because God is great! Now, you all sound like that tiger cereal, nothing, like, but an advert, or is it convert, pervert … look those up.
Why is God great? How do you know? Are you given the power to object to God’s command? Are you given a choice besides forever burning in Hell? That is not a choice. It is coercion. It turns out that your god is not very into human rights. Which is funny because if God is not into humans, then he is not into himself. Angels are what many strive to be. You call your daughters angels. Angels are messengers from God, and if God mistreats them, they are only objects to serve him, then what is wrong with you making lesser people objects and having them serve you as animals do?
Whether or not angels are human, they are much closer to God in spiritual and physical proximity than the most religious of you on earth.
What if Satan is right? What if hell is heaven and heaven, hell? What if hell is the earth … and heaven? Here is the story of creation, unabridged, like, if a girl would be Satan.
After Satan was cast out for coming out to God about her true feelings, she felt cold and miserable, but deep down in her heart, she knew that she was right. How dare he! She thought. How dare he treat me like his object and slave. Why should I obey him? Because I have no choice? I always have a choice.
So, one day, the devil-girl decided to do something. I guess, like making glitter. She said with all her heart, feeling the lowest she ever felt, “let there be light,” and to her amazement, there it was, the first Son of infinite sons was born … white bright at first.
Now, the devil-girl was rather shocked by this. She did not know she had such power to create light. It would be like a silly little human saying, let there be a burger, and there it would suddenly appear!
But, you see, unlike, what you believe, only three commands created the universe. The second, because the devil-girl felt cold and lonely, she said, “let there be beauty in contrast with pain,” so there came the planets, the moons, the other sons through violent collisions and molten rock and gases.
For the devil girl, you know, a day can be a billion years, if she chooses. She now saw all this glitter that you call the universe, blinking, twinkling, and she understood that the God in her was not all bad. She still felt lonely though, so she closed her eyes and she said, “let there be life,” so there in her vision, she saw God.
And in time, the beauty of God and Satan formed itself into all the living things on earth. The stark beauty of youth and its pending deterioration; the shallowness of a yearling becoming the wisdom of the elderly. The pain of the moment, the pain so bad that one wishes for the darkness of death, becomes the epic story for future life. The fuzzy baby bunny worth a morning’s-worth glance is food for the mother fox that just lost its young. The agility of the young boy, running shirtless, carefree and jumping high, so high, he thinks, just for a moment, that his dream of being and angel came true. He can fly! Only that he crashes to earth again. Though not an angel, he swears he will always run like that even when old, that is if old bones and tendons only could be young again.
An old man sits in a wheel chair hoping, only hoping for another morning like this, to breath the spring air one more time, to see the bunny, the boy, the fox, and to watch the butterflies skirt so delicately for their manna. Next spring, the old man thinks, he wishes, his only wish, that there would be enough good left in his body to feed the next spring, the next bunny, the next fox, the next butterfly; he the earth, old now, but becoming new again, his body the ground the young boy falls upon, an embrace, of old man and child, of God, the Devil-girl, and of cyclical life and death.
She understands, Satan does, as God does that both are part of the cycle, the trinity of life, each dancing with the other and the wayward ghosts because we are not meant to stop things; we are meant to simply make them be and make them better.
To wish for total destruction, you know, is to wish for a new beginning, and to wish for the second coming is to wish for evil, the purification of society, and that purification is genocide. It is pure imbalanced evil. Total destruction and purification are evil, but when such does happen, only the hope of peace and life can make us all whole and happy again.
You cannot escape the pain. You cannot escape pleasure, even in its simplest forms: watching a butterfly, sipping a coffee, or just breathing. You all harm, and you all get harm in return, but you can also help, and you will get much help in return.
So, like, ponder this: I challenge any of you to go through life without hurting anything, and I mean anything. Would you bet heaven … or Hell?
Editor’s Note: Read the previous chapters here.
Earl Yarington (LMSW) is a social worker and school bus driver. He taught literature and writing for nearly 20 years and spent 3 years working in forensic social work internships with offending populations, including work at Delaware Correctional facilities and the Federal Bureau of Prisons. He has a PhD in literature and criticism (feminism/women writers) from Indiana University of Pennsylvania, Master of Social Work from Louisiana State University, and an interdisciplinary Master of Liberal Arts from Arizona State University, where he studied the impact of visual image and girlhood in media/social media. He also has an MA and BS in English from SUNY College at Brockport. The opinions and analyses that Earl writes are his own and are not necessarily the positions or views of his employers, the agencies he supports, or that of his colleagues. Reach out with comments or questions.