One sunny day, my disposition was glim. I looked out at the world and blamed all for my sin.
Then along came a man, he asked what was wrong. I said, “Motherfucker! You’re shit is all wrong.”
His head bowed backward, and a bellowed laugh did come out. He said, “Say that again! I wanna make sure without doubt.”
I said, “Your shit, his shit, their shit, the whole lot! I’m tired of the shit, motherfucker, it’s rot!”
Once again, he reared back, and bellowed even louder, a laughter that shook my teeth of its calcium.
This burly man, black beard all up under, was rolling in laughter, this motherfucker, what wonder.
I said, “Why are you laughing, this shit is serious. The whole world is a blunder, it’s making me delirious.”
He straightened his smile and leaned in so gently, “You know, motherfucker, that word is my making. I made it for two reasons, I’ll tell you, no faking. For one there’s a fucker, fuck two, three, and four. For two, there’s a mother, bringing son, daughter, and more. When one fucks a mother, the birth is her reign. For everything that comes from her comes so with pain. That love of a mother endures the worst rife. Listen, motherfucker, she gave us all life!”
I sat there a moment, this man in my sight, big bearly beard, ham belly just right. No laughter came forth, just my silent surprise. “What the fuck, motherfucker, how do you know your surmise?”
He said, “Listen to me closely, I’ll only say this once, if you don’t believe me, my wife is making lunch. Just over yonder she smiles in making’s make. She’s lovely that way, but I can have her state her say. For you see it takes two, to get approval at all. To convince her of Motherfucker was a dueling brawl. Now, let me ask again, what was it you said, because we can end debate faster with a woman instead.”
I said, “Nevermind. All is great. Lunch sounds good.” God said, “Yes indeed. It sure beats a brood.”
Zoltan Blue 