Note- This is an entry from my journal during my time in Germany.
This is a true story.
On Monday, the thirteenth day of the sixth month, in the two thousand and eighth year of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, a blessing of providence hath fallen into the palms of our most grateful hands. We, my companion and myself, I simply "Nathan," he calling himself "Johnson,” had taken leave from our homely abode to gather unto ourselves the weekly store of needed meats and fruits, along with assorted sugary carbonated beverages, when we happened upon this blessing: A gift unto us from our most gracious god.
We were wandering within the produce aisle, an area wherein previous expeditions of this nature we had much success in finding the vegetable and fruitalicious growths that we were then desiring. So, in like fashion to those days before, we took our wagon from its hold, and began our paramount hunt.
Past the breads and their tantalizing scents of cinnamon and spice, ‘round the marmalades of most excellent spreading capabilities, and over the shelf of communist Chinese rices we journey. We stop, and say a prayer of gratitude, thanking our creator for allowing us opportunity to have gone as far as we have in safety. Surely there had been others in times long past who had not been so blessed, and had fallen victim to those foes which we had so easily passed over. Blessed is our generation, for we must not contend with the fiery tantrums of corpulent scum-filled bakers! Alas, my father's father's generation had put that uprising down long, long ago.
But when that war was raged, rage it so did, with men and children of all ages paling at the very suggestion of walking into town, in fear of an uncooked rocket of floury wrath and pain ending its speedy journey in some unrepentant crevice of the unsuspecting body. Death was the desired result of all who met this unnervingly gruesome fate, yet most were sadly incapable, being trapped in their mangled and disabled condition for the remainder of their once hope-filled lives. Grateful I am for those brave men who both risked and sacrificed their lives in ending that terrible era in this world of imperfect men.
Then there were the Marmalades, their sweet sugary tastes, which were once a well-made disguise for manipulation and bloodshed, turning an innocent looking dessert into one procuring terror and ill-design. Yea, the empires of old, do ye not know upon what grounds they were founded? The snakes of the earth, wizards of mystery and crafts of all kinds; those foul apothecaries, boiling in their cauldrons of brass and steel potions of trickery and magics, aimed at the confounding and controlling of those once noble minds in power. Know ye the medium in which these poisons were delivered? I tell you now, in the form of gifts! Praising the majesty and honorable services of their righteous kings of old, giving unto them jars of their concoction, added to the sweet and delicate tastes of marmalades of every kind! In savor they were eaten, and in favor unexplained, they relinquished their thrones to those vile and corrupt heathen, nevermore seen in any other region.
Blast be to those tyrannical emperors of cowardly and dishonorable practices! Never was this great nation led by such dismally corrupt leaders such as they, nay, not until those communists, swindling control from the weak minded, and banishing all that threatened their continued reign of poverty: a theory of perfection, not yet possible for a society of imperfection, leading man to temptation and advantage contrary to the laws given therein. Until man can attain this image of unimaginable ideal, this system of government shall always fall into the ever-waiting claws of Satan and his armies from Hades, the underworld, and below.
But alas, I must digress from this equivocality of reason; one may never quite understand the finer confistitudes (or lack thereof) of why this process is attempted time and time again, each deranged endeavor deepening this hole from which our children shall be forced to climb. Yet so the spindles of our eternal destinies have turned, and there has yet to be one whom our Lord has chosen to pull us forth from this enfilthed pit of darkness and treason. Until the day we may relinquish this burden of sensuous lusts and ill-acquired reason, we must press forever forward, looking past these stone walls of selfish tradition and masters of closed minded doublethought; we must leap this pit which has been dug for our degenerated minds, for that is their hope: to continue on, by assassinating all that which would threaten to replace them.
And so I did, passing the shelves of those frivolous expenditures, not heeding their enticings of sweet tastes and promises of immediate yet temporary satisfactions, I passed them by, in a hope - no, a knowledge! Knowledge of something better to come, something unattainable being encumbered with the harlotous camaraderies of that to my sides. No, friends, I did not bow to any of these besmirching distractions. I knew my path, and to it, I was set.
We continued forth to the aisle of produce, and we knew our reward was near, our journey soon complete.
We spied past the apples in silence absolute. I had had enough of apples, and would not have any more apples; I needed no more apples. The grapes as well: as good in plenty as they are, in plenty untamed, their presence is more than that of a burden, but that of a curse. All of these good fruits, yet still, there is one greater!
I saw an orange upon my right, with a likelihood of its luscious juices bursting from their holds at the slightest whim of pealing. A good and noble prize, for a good and noble person, but we, we are searching for greatness. We continued on as we had before, knowing our perseverance should soon be rewarded.
Across the aisle: a long, tiring march. We had ventured further than we had ever before dared, and would continue to do so until we had met some sort of destination. The cool grocery floor ran chills up our bare feet, as though to ward us off from what we were nearing. A wind began to blow, and then to escalate. It seemed to grow as we made our slow progression. The voices from the midst of nowhere began screaming their terrible protests; the billows and whirlwinds from all of Hell itself seemed to be set against as we cut through our chosen and needed path. Continue this battery did! For as long as I thought humanly possible, and then further, when suddenly - silence.
We were left alone. Only we remained, with an ominous mist encircling the air roundabout us, swirling with every breath and movement, daring us to be as still as possible. We stood... and we waited.
The mist began to clear. Out of the impenetrable fog, a pedestal began to appear. The base, the mid, the table... and upon the table: a basket.
This was, in no doubt, the prize for which we had endured. The mist rose to its peak, and dissipated. We leaned forward, cast our eyes into the gift, and took in the ration we had earned the right to receive.
My heart was warmed; we departed with our spoil: the day lives on, in illustrated proclamity.
