I have been saying my prayers religiously and indifferently for fifty out of my fifty five years. It has become a sort of mantra with the words and sentiments having suffused into each other a long time ago.
The Lord’s Prayer features prominently as do prayers for the persecuted and those who are suffering. It’s another aspect of my Jesus complex, but one that I almost halted due to my recent loss of faith in anything remotely meaningful and potentially disappointing. I say my prayers now and feel a little more assured that they are going somewhere.
I ought to pray for the mad woman.
Her visage appeared at my door this morning and I had to turn swiftly to avoid having her gaze fall upon me. There is something terribly menacing about her madness that puts me on edge. I want to scream the demons out of her in an attempt to return her to her former-self, but I have a sneaky feeling that they have been with her for quite some time. They have become a part of her and if I am not careful they could latch themselves onto me.
In the next room is Brodie. He turned up this morning with a support bandage on his knee. He was wearing it on the outside of his trousers so that people would ask him about it. People asked him about it and he told them that it was an old issue. I am considering putting a support bandage around my head.
People may ask about it and I will tell them that the flipping thing hurts because of the number of KNUTTERS that seem to be around me.
Trepanning! That is the answer. The thing is that it will be me carrying out the procedure on all those whom I deem to be in need of it. There will be a bit of work to be done, starting with various leaders and politicians followed by religious fundamentalists and extremists. Terrorists will have an extended programme.