Another Self-Contained Fable of Phil and Cassandra:
“Lipstick lesbians are your thing huh?,”asked Cassandra of the Monsignor.
“You chose this life of yours, and God is using my sin to punish yours,” said the Monsignor as he prepared for the daily crime.
“Yeah, well your God is toast when I get ahold of him.”
“Such sacrilege will be punished by me – TODAY,” said the Monsignor.
Cassandra looked at the calendar posted on the wall. The Monsignor gave it to her so she could at least know the time. She marked the calendar each day with a crayon and the day count had reached thirty one.
One. Awful. Month. Of. Daily. Rape.
Light from her barred window let her know when it was day or night. The food wasn’t bad for a rapist, he did give her whatever music and books she wanted IF they passed his tests for holiness, and if she was good, she would get cable someday.
He promised and boasted on how she could trust his word.
Needless to say, the reading and media list sucked. The rapist was a drug addled rocker as a young man before he was converted by a devotee of Opus Dei, so he had a soft spot for musical freedom and let her listen to whatever she wanted.
Not much consolation for daily rape of a woman who found sex with men disgusting.
Still, Cassandra was impressed with his detail management. He had really planned everything out. Every means of escape or attack had been anticipated by him and handled either ahead of time or in real time. No sharp objects. No stones or metal to grind the metal chain against. Charcoal and paper were the only things allowed for her art projects. No pencils.
Every night before the rape, he would turn on the radio in the chamber next to her cell. For some reason, he always raped her to the same radio station. And whatever was playing he would define his rape of her in the spirit of that broadcast. If it was news, he would be matter of fact. If it was music, he would adapt stylistically to the music.
Cassy held her chain in her hand and looking at it spoke to him.
“You aren’t special you know. And neither am I. I cannot avoid the results of rape or torture even if I leave this chamber.”
“You won’t leave,” he said. “Not alive anyway.”
“That’s supposed to scare me and it does. But you need to understand something. I’ve survived a lot worse than you. As far as torture goes, you’re a pansy. See, you don’t know me. You don’t know my story. And to be truthful, I don’t know all MY stories either. But I learn and create more and more of them everyday.”
The monsignor stayed silent and started undressing in the chamber next to her cell.
“The problem with you is that you really don’t understand what heaven is.”
“Really?” he said.
“Really. If you give me a smoke, I’ll tell you about it before you rape me and then you can believe you are surprising me with this new idea you have called torture because, let’s face it, you’re getting bored with plain old rape about now.”
He looked at her for a long time. He slowly got up and pulled out a pack of Winstons from his jacket. Cassandra looked with disgust at his tighty whities hanging limp off his sagging frame. He lit it. Blew a puff into the air and placed it to his extension pole and reached it through the cell to Cassy.
Cassy picked it up and then took a long draw. It had been weeks since she had a cig. Then she blew in a way so confident that he was struck by the fact that she wasn’t broken yet.
“So, show me heaven,” he said.
“Sure,”Smiled Cassy. “You see, MY heaven is actually a continuum of free beings and not the grovel-fest of your New Testament. It is a supportive dimension of beings that create themselves and are co-created of themselves. Each is their OWN god. Each is independently self-supporting paradox. Each maintains their self support by helping the others be independent and self-supporting. So, in a sense, it’s a realm where everyone is 100% self sufficient and 100% dependent at the same time. They are, in fact, hackers of the multiverses. Any can leave of course, but they lose the protection of the collective and have to face this dark universe alone. BUT …”
She took another long draw and talked through smoke.
“Their collective is NOT their secret sauce! It’s not what makes their heaven heaven.”
“So, what’s their secret sauce that makes it heaven,” he laughed. “I suppose you are going to try to obtain favors from me with this information.”
“Oh … THAT … no, no. No favors. It is YOU who are favoring me Monsignor. You see, the secret sauce of heaven is the ability to face even worse realities than this as enlightenment itself. The ability to face ANY situation with courage, and ESPECIALLY … ”
He tipped her cigarette at him with her fist.
“ESPECIALLY our inability to do just that and fail miserably in the attempt. THAT is the best part – the failure of that declaration. That instant when the spirit falls to the domination of another who is intent on destruction and control. You see, THAT is the truth Monsignor. THAT is what your God does in his hell. But your God misses ONE thing. That I exist in other realms, and other Universes and I even occur several times in THIS universe. I choose in these realms through my imagination to be very aware of what is going on here RIGHT … NOW. And I am actively supporting this version of me as my ability to handle your abuses declines. MY grace is sufficient unto me EVEN AS my ego and free will is destroyed. My other selves will remember. Will confront it. Will transcend it. And WILL send that grace to me.”
“That’s sacrilege!” he yelled. He felt himself growing harder. Cassy could see he was getting hornier by the second at her sacrilege.
“Oh, it gets better oh Horny Holy Man,” she smirked. “Then there is the unlistable free beings: the Buddhas, the Bodhisattvas, the Atmans, the Spirit Guides, the Quiet Ones and so many other types of liberated beings that it is impossible to number or list them. THEY WILL HELP ME AS I FALL. THEY WILL HOLD ME AS I BREAK. THEY WILL SUPPORT ME LIKE A FLOOR HOLDS A BROKEN GLASS. And there is my ONE. ONE especially who loves me in a way you never could. He loves me as a woman, and yet he knows he can never have me … AND … yet he loves me even MORE because I am his mentor. HE WILL HELP ME.”
“I don’t see anyone here…” quipped the Monsignor.
The Monsignor turned on the radio to begin the nightly rape. The DJ was introducing a song.
“I don’t know why, but a man named Phil just gave me one thousand dollars to our station’s charity to play this song. So, stranger, thanks for helping “Kelly’s Kids” here at WRT in Dallas. Cassy, this is for you …”
The song “Show Me Heaven” began to play.
Cassy started crying. That was her and Helen’s love song.
“Phil …” she cried. “MY PHIL! I knew you would find a way to soothe me …”
There you go
From your eyes …
Cassandra jumped up dancing with arms flailing, joy exploding…
“THEY’RE HERE! THEY’RE ALL HERE! I SEE YOU ALL. I FEEL YOU ALL!”
Cassandra felt the love of uncountable beings sending grace, and she drank it in through every pore and every cell.
Her eyes cut through the Monsignor. Fear crossed his face as he beheld the force of her power. The grace of the liberated beings cutting through his ego delusion.
Then she tongue sliced him.
“You haven’t even created yourself yet. Your ego is merely a PRODUCT. You are JUST the little bitch of your petty, little GOD and his petty, little Mono-verse!” she declared standing tall with an outstretched finger.
Cassandra’s face lit up with liberation as tears sprung forth as a spring. She spun in a circle – her arms outstretched to the universes as her and Helen’s song echoed.
Then she stopped and looked at the floor as it caught and held her tears.
“My heaven is RIGHT HERE mother fucker in every reality and THIS ONE. And my angels are with ME and they kick your angel’s asses! How many times have I suffered worse in other realms? How many hells? How many prisons?
She laughed and roared so freely and with so much force that the Monsignor just sat down in shock.
“Look at you. You’re pathetic,” she said. “I am going to live this life a thousand more times just for practice! What a challenge indeed! And each time before I fall to your domination, I will laugh at you. I am willing this life a thousand lives myself. Right now!”
“I WILL THIS A THOUSAND TIMES,” she screamed. The building shook from her rage..
The Narcissistic Monsignor’s face tightened in anger by the shame put on him by Cassandra. He pulled the chain to bring her to the wall. Then he began to try and rape her. But his manhood was limp. Nothing was there. Cassandra, bound now to the wall by the retracted chain laughed again.
And then she spoke.
“Is that all you got? Soon this will be over. It will be an ‘it was’ for me to transcend with my creating will.”
He tried to work his penus into firmness.
Cassandra sighed sardonically. Then she quoted whimsically in a peace-living voice as he continued to try and get it up.
“All ‘It was’ is a fragment, a riddle, a fearful chance–until the creating Will saith thereto: ‘But thus would I have it.’–
“Until the creating Will saith thereto: ‘But thus do I will it! Thus shall I will it!’
“Thus spake Zarathustra,” she said. Then to drive the point home she goaded him.
Enraged, he threw her to the ground choking her. Cassy started blacking out. But her face, angelic, still drew hope from the beings she could feel.
Suddenly, the door to the chamber burst open and Phil entered with a baseball bat …
“Get off her asshole,” said Phil.
The naked monsignor got off Cassy. Cassy choked and coughed herself back into a corner.
“I had to use the A-11 to find you Cassy, I’m going to have to get the hell out of here the predators are already on my scent because of this jerk made me use inter dimensional tech. Fuck Cassy, I liked this planet!”
Cassy held up her hand to indicate it was going to take a few …
Phil tied up the rapist. Cassy got on the phone and called police.
“Get out of here,” she said. “I’m good.”