Letter to Krissy:
wombat_part - third book of a letter to Krissy.
Fishing to find the write wombat to right.
Wombat words of wisdom.
wombat_part_04

Here’s a question for Sunday the 23 of Feb.: Why do I always find myself fighting depression on Sunday. I don’t know if it’s always but it’s often. I thought it might be because I don’t like having to go to work on Monday. The last year and a half I had an enjoyable job that I didn’t mind at all but Sundays were still trouble. Now I’m unemployed and it doesn’t go away. Is it my lost religion? Do I miss the Sunday God call? Could be but that’s 20 years behind me. I’ve got my test for motorbike tomorrow. If I pass the test, I’ll have a German driver’s license for car and motorbike that only cost me 1,500 marks. That’s quite a sum but most pay more. They’ve got many rules here about what a foreigner can and can’t do. One of them is drive after a year of being here. Which is completely fucked since I was aloud the first year. They want money. They take it anyway they can even if they have to make fucked laws to do it. But still, I like it here.

_bunnie stop_

It’s the beginning of March. Spring has sprung and kicked me full in the head. I’m stuffed like a turkey, cough at night like a mad goose and have ear infection to go with it.

Last night you were in my dream. We were friends. I loved you completely, as I do when I’m awake, and I told you you could use my shirts for running and doing sports and leisure things. You didn’t have many left. It might have been a train station or something we were at listening to music and dancing and many people were there, some Auslanders. One was asked for ID and didn’t have a passport so wanted to use mine. But since he was thirty pounds heavier and an Indian that spoke Spanish and little English, I couldn’t see it working. I’m not sure what we did. I might have woke up coughing again before the authorities got through the crowd to him.

Before that, you were lying on a coach after all the dancing. I had been dancing mostly on a chair and defying gravity somewhat. We were on the topic of breast and I said mine were bigger than yours. You assured me it only appeared that way because of the shirt you were wearing. (That’s when we got on about shirts.) I was so happy to be with you and have you as my friend. Shortly after as I was tidying up my mom’s house, I realized I loved you and would want to marry you. Oh, I forgot about the swings and playing around them and the topic of cloning came up like it often does since this Dolly sheep was cloned. I was telling how it could be used, like in my first book, for gene manipulation and the advantages, such as taking asthma out of the DNA and other inherent illnesses. Then I mentioned, after someone mention, or could have at any rate, what about Hudam Susane ten thousand times. I told them it would be cool to do Elle McPherson ten thousand times. On account I thought she was one of the most beautiful and I’d love to have one. And people who saw other (men here) people on the street would ask questions like, ‘You’re out with your wife, where’s your Elle McPherson?’. If you didn’t have an Elle McPherson you were a bit out of it. Of course, I was being hypothetical on account I wanted my friend Krissy to love me. But leave the dream. As usual I can’t get around in it very well, they don’t leave room for a clear description. I gotta hurry up and finish my first book’s new ending on account it might be good timing for gene manipulation books. I started that dam thing almost 20 years ago and written it ten of twelve times. But it’s pretty fuckin’ good now. And I think gene manipulation is here to stay and like anything new, people will distrust it, which they should, but it will be part of us, already is, and my book won’t be fiction in a few years. Write me a letter Krissy. I know in real life we won’t likely get married or live together, but I can still love you and you can still be my friend.

Funny how, when, oh, never mind.

_bunnie stop_

Hi, my Frau left me again. But that’s okay, she said she’d come back. I don’t talk of her too much but not because my love isn’t for her, just because I don’t want to write about it and her. But for the record, I love my wife and when I tell you I love you I hope neither you or her are insulted oder so was.

Anyhow, I was just thinking about the skin care company that I was involved with for a year or so. I thought it was pretty cool. Pretty good products and a guy could make a good buck if. Well, ‘if’ is the big thing in this kind of marketing. I didn’t stop believing in this ‘if’ until a few things happened. That’s besides not making any money. The whole thing sounded too good to be true. And like most things that are too good to be true, there are little faults that one tends to over look. Such as, only a few of the thousands involved make money. Most not only make little but lose. They lose the money invested, which in this case isn’t so much, but they lose the time they put into the business.

I don’t want to go into it, I just want to mention two things that deterred me. The main points such as was the product as good as they lead us to believe and why come no one made money are of no interest here. I want to mention the pep meeting I was at. It discouraged me. Although it was well done, it was detectable that it was thin. It was the short look I got from one of the rich ones at the top. She was at the very top of the ‘can I say pyramid’. Though she hadn’t intended, I’m sure, to relay anything to me, when our eyes met, I knew that she was a millionaire because we thought we all could be ‘if’. If it’s a cult, that’s debatable, but it’s a thing to believe in that’s not quite true. When my main man left the business and wanted me to come with him, I couldn’t believe in any of them. But don’t let me discourage you from multilevel marketing. Hell, it’s not such an awful idea. As long as it doesn’t get to culty. Amway has been at it almost 40 years. No one makes any money at it but it’s fun to be part of a big club where you can buy soap wholesale and sell it to you mom. And so without conclusion, I end.

Markus and I want to try make some money somehow. Our second idea was cars, we’ll see what we can do. Our first was more lucrative: start a new religion. Wombatismus. We have decided not to be too mean about it. People can come and go as they please. If they don’t believe anymore we won’t threaten them with ruining their lives or killing them. We’ll keep brainwashing to a minimum. Maybe not even have a church or therapy. Just a book that can be bought, disguised as fiction and perhaps a bank account where small donations are accepted and a greater percentage of it passed onto other causes like Unicef. To be nice and publicly accepted. Of course we take a little to live off of. We’re nice but let’s face it, altruism is just a word.

Did you know Joseph Smith was lynched by his followers? At least that’s what I read somewhere. He apparently tried to tell them that they took his joke too far. That’s why one should be careful when one starts a new religion, people will believe it as long as it’s a little fuckin’ ridiculous. I know I’ve said it before, I often repeat myself, I think I mention the MLM thing as well, but this bears mentioning again: Any religion or if they call it cult because they want me to pay tax, that I start, I don’t mean to harm anyone and I hope that no one takes it so seriously as to believe any of it and well shit, I suggest you don’t jump to believe anything. People rather believe lies than have nothing to believe and if I try to sell one, you tell them that I said before hand that I don’t mean it. Maybe I won’t do it. But I have a feeling the temptation is too great.

What will it be? Wambatismus? There are a few in the inner circle of wisdom and knowledge (that gets a few interested, that line) that know about Jose Wombat. When he was still young, he’s my age now, he wanted to save Laurier High School from a dreadful school election. It was evident that strange occurrences had focused on the few who wanted to run the student counsel. They were somehow not well. They were, I hate to say it, small minded and petty. I was witness to the communications of one excandidate, I shall call him Tim, because that was his first name. He said, I have to paraphrase for it was almost 20 years ago today that sergeant Pepper taught the band to play. No, that’s the song. What he said was something like, ‘It’s a lot of bullshit and I don’t want anything to do with it.’ He was disturbed by petty something or other. As far as I could sense, when he gave up hope, so did we. Most of us of course didn’t give a fuck. Most people can’t be bothered to care about such unimportant things as politics. But that is no attitude to take. We didn’t want to give up. Someone had to save us from the doom of a student counsel that consisted merely of a click that wanted to monopolize the power. Something like totalitarianism. But worse since we didn’t know what was happening to us. There was a fellow, Mark I believe was his name, who know of a fellow from the South Pacific. His name was Jose Wombat. He was born from a virgin, as is the tradition with mothers of saviours. Especially unwedded ones. ‘Nuns run bald through Vatican hall screaming emasculate conception.’ That - from the book of Bruce. Anyhow, she was one of them. It was a full eclipse of the sun until Jose popped out of the virgin Karry. Six astronomers were on location and gave gifts of gold, incense and fur. Jose was taken from his mother who was burned as a martyr for her belief in her son’s emasculate birth.

Those details I can tell of when I write the book. We know little of Jose’s childhood except that he was teaching his teachers before he was 6. When he was six, he was anointed as the holy one that knows of all wisdom. It was discovered that the father of Karry was form the direct line of Jesus, through his son Berakus. Her mother was from the direct line of Mohammed. On her grandmother’s side was a direct line to Buddha and on her one grandfather’s side a direct line to Confucius.

In his meditations, he decided to leave his homeland and try to see what was up in North America. He had read about the problem with our student counsel election and contacted me in a dream to offer help. I sent him a fax and invited him to run for President of student counsel in our school.

So he did. Everyone loved him, except for a few unenlightened, and was elected in a landslide vote of 98.6 percent for President. Many voted that he should run all positions of government. Well, the rest is history. As was this. So I’ll write it later. Not too much later. The world need Jose and Jose is ready.



by Joanne B. Washington

read on. wombat_part_04_01



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