Free Your Mind

     Outside the sun's radiant shine warms a gorgeous afternoon with fun and laughter as children and elders alike enjoy the generous spring day.  Bear stares out his living room window.  He's seen too many days as such come and go without feeling its heat; even rain drops on his head would be nice for a change.

     "I know you heard me."  Joan says to Bear in her famous tea kettle stance, hand over hips.  He heard her - he's just not listening.  Joan gives Bear an ear full as usual when he starts looking out that damn window.  She's forever reminding him of her blessed gift of clairvoyance which keeps them safe.  "I was born the daughter of a sharecropper and the saints chose to speak to me!" she'd emphasize, ME.  Bear heard this many times and lip sync it with his back turned.  "...I had King Charles crowned; rescued France from England's tyranny; and, I was declared a saint by Pope Benedict the XV.  She adds new content to her resume.  "And I have a holiday!  Do you have a holiday, Bear?"  He knows it's a rhetorical question and keeps his lips together.  "No...no you don't!"  He doesn't see any reason to get all cartwheels and somersaults about it - it's a French Holiday - we're in America, crazy bitch!

     "Your sarcastic expression only proves you're not ready for the world, Bear.  The voices told me that it's best for us to stay here where it's safe."  She points to the floor.  Joan and her damn visions are driving him crazy and their marriage a hundred miles per hour into a brick wall.  "There's nothing out there for you but trouble and more trouble.  Besides, what would you do without me?"  After crushing him, she uses reason out of habit.  It's her way of consoling him for the pain she'll cause.  It's not working this time.  He's tired of her bossing him around.  Picking even at his shoe strings.  "...they're not evenly tied", an easy prophecy for her to see that he'd trip and fall on his forehead.  "you need divine guidance - 'all of us do'".  It still sounded condescending. 
     "What!"  Bear tears his forehead away from the window, leaving a print.  He's heard enough and is ready for a dual.  It's been awhile since they had a fight.  This time he won't be the one leaving the room with his head slumped between his shoulders, retreating to the bathroom and have his way with the toilet.  No, today she's going to get a taste of her own shit!  Oddly, she's afraid of turds of all things.  It's his fault that she thinks she knows what's best for him; allowing her to control him by her blasphemous visions; plus she's too damn persuasive - she can sell acorns to a squirrel.  If her strong personality wasn't such a turn on to him - he'd been had called the mental health crisis hotline on her.  Hell, she don't even know what's best for herself, pointing out, she's the one that let people inside her head telling her what to do.  Joan takes offense.

     "Their divine revelations by Saint Michael, Saint Catherine, Saint Margaret and --"

     "Yeah, all dead people."  He cuts her off.

     "Blasphemy!  How dare you!"  she rebukes.

     "My bad, HOLY dead people."

     "All they've done for us, saving our souls from eternal damnation and this is your attitude, huh, Bear?"  All this because he wanted a lil fun in the sun.  It ain't like she couldn't use tan.  He pokes fun at her now that the table has turned.

     "Is that supposed to be funny?  I guess prison is hilarious too!"  His face snarls up like he poured salt in his kool aid by accident.  "It's what's in your future, if you don't listen to me.  Not so funny now.  Those streets are full of traps and you're ready to run out there and get tangled up".  She smugs in satisfaction over his silence,. "would you care for a sandwich, honey, P&J?"

     "Hell no!"  Bear roars back.  It's typical of Joan to down play things she can't handle or don't want to talk about.  She's always putting it on the saints, so it won't be on her hands.