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Jesus and God

The Bish Packs It In.

Written by Sandshoe

The Bish arrived with attitude. The good Bish (there are some very bad Bishes) had been a supplicant for a semester at a mind re-training boot camp conducted in the Southern Highlands by the Society for the Restoration of All Bishops of Any Sin. FOW*, still. after all these years resident in the Manse over the road from the Pig’s Arms** carpark had some advantages as a host of his, or her, re-emergence. More important to the Bish than anything was no longer being of a fixed mindset about his, or her, personal gender or about anything at all. If anything, FOW was the perfect host. He was laid back.

The Bish greeted his friend, Sandy O’Way with gushing warmth.

“Mother O’Way, away wit’ y’ lookin’ so bonny.”

Sandy, or as we like to address him on formal occasions, FOW, hesitated.

“I’ll need to put down the suitcases, Bish.’

The suitcases dispensed with at the bottom of the staircase, FOW waited for the onrush of shock into his consciousness to subside. Being seized and hugged in an instant by the Bish was unexpected, nay unaccustomed. He picked up the suitcases again, his two hands firmly gripped on them as if on reality. The Bish filled him in as they walked up the staircase to the upper storey side by side

The Bish had seen where inconsistencies in the mortal and moral fabric tethered him, or her to the old ways in entire indifference to caring. In bondage, the Bish explicated. He waved his hands free of imagined shackles.

“We’re all good then.”

FOW wanted it to be inferred he would be Mother O’Way, MOW if necessary were it required of him. What’s in a name.

“Never been better,” the Bish punched with his fists into the very air.

“I’ll check your prescriptions. Seen Gordy*** lately?”

“Don’t forget Gord, Sandy.” Tears of beatitude and plenitude, rectitude I suspect, gratitude rolled down the face of the Bish. They splashed onto the gold heraldic design on the carpet on the staircase.

*Father O’Way

**Window Dresser’s Arms, Pig and Whistle

***Gordy O’Donnell, nuclear and unplugged physicist of all things indeterminable in the Cyberverse.