"Heres Another Chance for you to Dance With me"
Game night was pretty fun. I want another Prelude so bad. Nobody plays happy hardcore in their cars. My friends hardly even know what this crap is. I'm such an outcast. Earlier, I ran down to the beach and read from the book of Jeremiah. Good stuff, very much about the righteous power of God and the wrath and the judgement pronounced upon those that prostituted themselves to false gods like Baal that were created by humans. It seems to me that if you can describe and make an image of a god, it loses its power and isn't really a god is it? A true God is so outside of our scope of comprehension, understanding, and imagination that we would have no choice but to be awestruck and to fear and love this God. Also, I hadn't considered until recently that God created time as well as the universe. That just blew me away. I was like "Whoa." Below is a funny story called "Cool Beans." It's so bout' it.
Cool Beans
What have you done to me?
Paul Bremerton was totally "Bout' It!" Or at least he thought so. He was so Bout' It that he only had to shower a couple of times a week. So Bout' It that he only had to brush his teeth once a month. Basically, Paul Bremerton was so Bout' It that he didn't have to obey certain residual rules of personal hygiene like most people. He didn't have to shave his face or wipe properly after he was done using the toilet. He was totally Bout' It until one day. It was the day of the incident. Paul was walking down the street, feeling his oats because people were getting out of his way, totally unaware it was because of the terrible smell rather than his intimidating "Bout' it ness." Suddenly, a man in a dark cloak motioned for him to step into an alley. He was mysterious and didn't look like a prostitute, so he must have been a drug dealer. That was okay. It was okay for Paul Bremerton to use drugs because he was "Bout' it" and therefore better than everyone else.
"I've got some magic beans" The man whispered.
The voice seemed to whisper more into Paul's mind than his ears, but he thought nothing of it.
"What do they do and how much are they?" Paul wanted to know.
"They make you even more 'Bout' it'" The man answered.
Even more "Bout' it?" Paul hadn't considered that he could be even more Bout' it than he already was, but if these magic beans could do that, he had to have them, otherwise, they might fall into the wrong hands and make some lowlife a little Bout' it. And that would be bad. Somehow.
"How much are they?" Paul demanded.
"Twenty quid" The man said, suddenly switching to a british accent.
"I don't have any quid," Paul said "Would you take dollars?"
"um...yeah" The dealer said.
Paul took the beans home, said the magic words as he was instructed, and then ate them. He began to feel strange after about two hours and wondered if this was what it was like to be even more Bout' it. Unbeknownst to Paul, however, he had ingested Australian funnel web spider eggs in the advanced stages of gestation. They hatched before he could digest them and they began crawling around inside of him and biting his stomach lining. They weren't able to survive long without a real food supply, and eventually were digested. Meanwhile, the venom of hundreds of baby poisonous spiders was coursing through Paul's veins and cycling through his system. He lay on the floor twitching in a puddle of his own filth.
"Bout' it" He managed to say as his system shut down.
Cool Beans
What have you done to me?
Paul Bremerton was totally "Bout' It!" Or at least he thought so. He was so Bout' It that he only had to shower a couple of times a week. So Bout' It that he only had to brush his teeth once a month. Basically, Paul Bremerton was so Bout' It that he didn't have to obey certain residual rules of personal hygiene like most people. He didn't have to shave his face or wipe properly after he was done using the toilet. He was totally Bout' It until one day. It was the day of the incident. Paul was walking down the street, feeling his oats because people were getting out of his way, totally unaware it was because of the terrible smell rather than his intimidating "Bout' it ness." Suddenly, a man in a dark cloak motioned for him to step into an alley. He was mysterious and didn't look like a prostitute, so he must have been a drug dealer. That was okay. It was okay for Paul Bremerton to use drugs because he was "Bout' it" and therefore better than everyone else.
"I've got some magic beans" The man whispered.
The voice seemed to whisper more into Paul's mind than his ears, but he thought nothing of it.
"What do they do and how much are they?" Paul wanted to know.
"They make you even more 'Bout' it'" The man answered.
Even more "Bout' it?" Paul hadn't considered that he could be even more Bout' it than he already was, but if these magic beans could do that, he had to have them, otherwise, they might fall into the wrong hands and make some lowlife a little Bout' it. And that would be bad. Somehow.
"How much are they?" Paul demanded.
"Twenty quid" The man said, suddenly switching to a british accent.
"I don't have any quid," Paul said "Would you take dollars?"
"um...yeah" The dealer said.
Paul took the beans home, said the magic words as he was instructed, and then ate them. He began to feel strange after about two hours and wondered if this was what it was like to be even more Bout' it. Unbeknownst to Paul, however, he had ingested Australian funnel web spider eggs in the advanced stages of gestation. They hatched before he could digest them and they began crawling around inside of him and biting his stomach lining. They weren't able to survive long without a real food supply, and eventually were digested. Meanwhile, the venom of hundreds of baby poisonous spiders was coursing through Paul's veins and cycling through his system. He lay on the floor twitching in a puddle of his own filth.
"Bout' it" He managed to say as his system shut down.