Pandemic Pentecost (Serving Time)

Today is day 50!
30 April. Marking the calendar.
Like prisoners do in the movies.

50 days since the world announced this was officially a pandemic.

Crossing over from bats to humans, well, that satisfied a certain scientifically minded segment of the population.

But the Society of the Opposably Thumb’d demanded a better target.
Blame must be doled out!
Something more tangible, something more devious, something more monstrously human—some axis of evil, some malevolent Other—perhaps some god.

But it gets tricky with gods.
Gods, being human creations, are often given attributes of the gods of human childhood—parents. They’re there to teach lessons, and sometimes—to punish.

Out came the innocent what-did-we-do-to-deserve faces.
But God the Father and Mother Nature tend to not need provocation to be filicidal. Because-we-said-so!—their voices like burning bushes, like tsunamis—Look at the condition your room is in!

Those among them who were without sin picked up stones and were preparing to cast.
A few, valuing age-old traditions, raged: It’s because of homosexuals!

Last week outside my window they marched with signs. “We Can’t Change” “Business As Usual!”

Thank goodness I live in the Information Age.
Today, while Googling Wikipedia, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Reddit I stubbed my toe on an online Bible.
You have to read between the lines to find the Truth—that’s standard operating procedure. Take the parts that make sense for you, fill in the blanks, and then the light aligns with your perspective.
It’s quite a flexible book that way. Love/Hate, War/Peace — it is all justified.
To everything there is a season.

Consider this verse from the Apocrypha to the Acts of the Apostles.

There were thirty-six gathered for a grand feast in the lower room of a great hall.
There was music and wine flowing and the heavens had blessed them all with generous servings of Time Itself.
Don’t lick minutes off your fingers, a mother told her child.
In every pocket that day there was the latest iPhone*.
Through the open doors a gust of wind came from the East. And lo, they began speaking in gibberish. They proclaimed in tongues: maga-maga-
goobagabba. heynomaskme. freedomda-doronron. zoomzazalipsoidic. tralalazip-adeedoodah.
And lo, thereupon above their heads, as if high fives or stop-hand gestures, appeared white rubber gloves

* † [Although these references are blazingly anachronistic, scholars across the board agree that these are correct translations from the original Greek. One professor noted: “Being that Time itself was the main course might explain the incongruities.”]

A quick search on DuckDuckGo provided a numerological answer: “…thirty-six is rather idealistic regarding what’s possible for humanity. It tends to view the long term rather than looking for quick solutions”.

On day 50 I have found some peace. Perhaps all will be okay and humans will shed all that unreality they’ve created and in which they dwell, and rise like a phoenix.

Day 199. Adding note. Tomorrow it will be 200 days. I’m having some doubts about my biblical interpretation.

© AleXander Hirka 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Read RemingtonWrite’s version here:

In August 2020, I set myself the challenge of creating a daily digital collage based on an image and a concept. The image was that of the antique Omega watch that belonged to my Mom and the concept was Time.
In September 2020, the Anomalous Duo is challenging themselves to write a short piece of fiction for each collage — the Our Hours project.

Writer, visual artist, philosopher, autodidact, curmudgeon. More than half of what i do is make believe.

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