We are all just finger puppets of the Gods. Okay, some are more puppet-like than others. And some of the puppeteers have more of a sense of either humour or chaos than others.So, we have two scales… Fluffy to my ex husband would be the puppet scale and Odin to Loki would be the scale for the puppeteers.
On the Fluffy side of the puppet scale we have a guy with no fate line. Seriously, this guy doesn’t have a fate line on either hand. He pretty much gets to decide what happens in his life and probably five other peoples’ lives if there is anything to this palmistry thing. But meanwhile, he just takes everything as it comes with optimism and joy de vivre that would make Julie Andrews look like an EMO.
“Some guy is having sex with my girlfriend in my bedroom,” Fluffy says. “Cool, can I play too!”
“My house is being torn down to make way for a freeway,” Fluffy says. “Cool, I’ve always wanted to live in Shria’s basement.”
“My job has been declared redundant and I have my walking papers as of today,” Fluffy says. “Cool, I was hoping for a little time off.”
Then, on the ex-husband side of the scale we have a guy who Odin picks out underwear for. I mean, this guy has absolutely NO control over his own life even though he tries to control every aspect of his life.
“We will have two daughters and they will be blonde,” the ex once told me. “They will have brown eyes and noses like yours. They will grow to be as tall as you and they will be very intelligent. One will be an astronaught and the other will be a veterinarian. The astronaught will marry a doctor and the veterinarian will marry a lawyer. Neither of them will ever weigh more than 160 lbs…”
We did, in fact, have two blonde daughters with noses like mine. That’s the whole cruel joke, though. My ex thought all was well in hand. However, the one who was supposed to be the astronaught gets carsick pulling out of the driveway and the one who was supposed to be the veterinarian breaks out in a rash if she just thinks about cats.
With my ex’s luck, one or the other of the girls will turn out a lesbian (better than marrying anyone, much less a doctor or a lawyer as far as I’m concerned) and the other will marry her career as a stunt-driver or something.
So those are the puppets. Where on that scale am I? Sliding wildly back and forth through it. The problem is, I never know if I’m supposed to be walking under my own power or wiggling around on the end of some God’s finger. It would be nice if they could light up a neon sign for me.
Bing
YOU ARE IN CONTROL
Bing
LOKI HAS HIS FINGER UP YOUR ASS YOU SILLY PUPPET YOU
Bing
YOU ARE IN CONTROL… KIDDING! HA HA. LOKI’S STILL GOT YOU
Bing
YOU ARE IN CONTROL… NO REALLY, THIS TIME YOU ARE… NOT! HA HA HA. THIS IS TOO MUCH FUN.
Yes, we are providing endless amusement for the Gods. Sometimes I wish I, for one, were less amusing. Then maybe the Gods would be more interested in complicating someone else’s life.
Queen of Light and Joy, at
Thu Nov 10, 07:31:00 a.m.
