The Bastard Spawn Chronicles: Chapter 5 Pearls Before Swine

I was five years old.


He just looked at me expectantly.

“Santa Clause isn’t real, is he?”

He just looked at the ground… I knew then that it was all bullshit. The tooth fairy. The easter bunny. Leprechauns, witches, goblins, dragons, angles, demons, and Gods… Fictions to keep us entertained. Nothing more.

At the end of 2013 I had finally had enough of the Bakken Oil fields. I figured they could keep their money. A part of me knew that I needed all the tranquility I could get if I was going to break free of my addictions. Ever since my involuntary trepanning I had begun to view “reality” in an entirely different manner. In hindsight a part of me was disappointed that I had stared the possibility of death in the face, and found my existence so meaningless that I honestly didn’t care if I woke up or not from the anesthesia. In short, I was looking for meaning.

What is my part in all of this? Whats the point? I remember asking my uncle in earnest. “Is it just my job to work and take care of a woman? To raise kids? Is that all I’m here for?” He told me, unceremoniously “Yeah, pretty much.”

I started reading as much as I could online. It didn’t take me long to discover that the entire world was ruled with an iron fist by a handful of the greediest most dastardly bastards that ever lived. Basically, the bad guys ran the entire world. Wow, this shit was even worse than I thought. The depression grew and my drug use got worse. I stared having obsessive thoughts about the nature of the universe. If it was all the shitty and meaningless, the why couldn’t the entire universe be an empty black void? Not black… Cause black is something. Im talking about nothing. 

Why couldn’t everything just be nothing?

It just so happened that after I had had these dismal thoughts there was a program on the history channel that night that described in detail what would happen if a massive asteroid hit the earth.

Once that image had flashed on the screen I remember thinking about how nice that would actually be. Hah! Everyone dies in a giant fireball. Awesome. I seriously did not give one shit about the entire world. Thats when I heard it.


That was the first time I had ever heard a disembodied voice… It was loud. It was unmistakable. It didn’t stutter. It was clear as day. The only quality I could really give it is a sort of shimmering in the way it spoke. What was that? The only one I’ve ever heard of that could do something like that and have a motivation for saying those words would be… No. Not possible. There had to be some explanation for this whole wretched universe, and I was going to find it.

I wasn’t going to find the answers with people. That much was obvious. Looking around it was exceedingly apparent that most people were even more clueless than I was. I picked up my roommates deck of Tarrot Cards. He caught me the basic technique of reading them, and I started my interrogation. I looked at the symbols and did my best to interpret them. After a while they started to take on a lot more meaning than they originally had… After a while… I was reading the cards without even having them. Having conversations…

I drove the beat up hay truck and rickety wagon filled with swamp grass up the steep, curving reservoir road. I don’t remember how the conversation started, but I do remember the significant part.

“Oh I get it! Just be a good little slave! A workhorse. Just run the ranch, marry a woman, raise kids, and go to motherfucking church on Sundays! Bah!”

“Whats so bad about that?”

I realized that the very thing I was railing against was the very thing that every man (who’s really being honest with himself) desired. The american dream. I changed my tone quickly.

“I would do it for her…”

I was picturing a girl I had met in college. A quiet, warm, peaceful, and pleasant girl. She had a loving face and awesome tits.

*Mirthful laughter* “She’s a good christian girl!”

“Yeah? So?”

“You’re a piece of shit! It doesn’t work like that man…”

I tried to say more but the conversation was over. By now it had become obvious that there was more going on in the world than what the five classical senses could observe. I got home and got out the Tarrot deck. At this point it was now more of a formality than anything.

“Who are you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. It does. Stop messing with me.”

I shuffled the deck. Cut it. Put the card off the top under the deck. Then, I drew a card.

No. no… No! no. no no no no no no….

Not possible. Anything but… that. It seems stupid now… But I actually had faith in atheism. I was going to find my answers. In anyway except for… … God.

I looked online and found a meditation technique for divining answers and opening the third eye. That was when the nightmares started. The harassment. The constant stress. I was beset by an enemy.

It wan’t all bad though. I found that in addition to being constantly ridiculed and shit on… I could communicate with more than just spirits. When people thought of me, wanted my presence, wanted me sexually, I knew. I could see it, feel it, hear it. Thats right. Im talking about… Telepathy. Mind to mind communication.

It became clear to me that my family and friends thought about me quite a bit. They loved me. Whatever that meant. But there was one face I didn’t recognize. A black guy with a shaved head. He looked like a typical darker American African. Like, coffee colored. I only mention his skin color because I don’t have any black friends. I live in central Montana. The amount of black people I talk to in an entire year wouldn’t fill a small gas station. About the third time seeing someone I didn’t know in my minds eye I asked…

“Ok, I give up. Who’s the black guy?”

“Thats my son.”

“Yeah? And who are you?”

“Who do you think, dummy?”

Im a really slow learner, but it was starting to sink in. I left for college (round two! ding ding!) that fall. I became so frustrated with women, and people in general, that I cried out to the sky.

Morpheus?! Im ready for the red pill now!”

That night I found Bold and Determined. Followed by The Rational Male. A miracle. I cried out, and I was answered. I was starting to get it. I found the reactionary sphere of the internet was a lot more friendly to the Judaeo Christian god than any other place I had ever been. I had finally come around. The proof of creation was in front of my face the entire time, but I refused to see it.

That afternoon I was eating dinner in the mess hall. Alone, like usual. One of the food service workers sat down across the table from me. He was black, with a shaved head. He introduced himself as Immanuel. He asked if I was a Christian. I knew then who he was then. A representation. A man used as a messenger. We had a short conversation about some of the more common misinterpretations in the bible.  He explained to me that the reason that the hebrews wandered in the desert for 40 years was because they saw the wonders of God repeatedly with their own eyes… But refused to follow his instructions…

I returned to my room and relented.

God… is God.

And I just wanted him to leave me the fuck alone.


2 thoughts on “The Bastard Spawn Chronicles: Chapter 5 Pearls Before Swine

  1. Pingback: A Ghost Theory | Koanic Soul

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