FlyGirl - The First Edition

Chapter 21: For everything there is a season, so dress appropriately

I AM A product of a parochial education.

This means that, for every secular class I took, I had to take a Christian philosophy or religion class.

Now I know a lot of people walk away from Catholicism because of the parochial experience, but me, I'm a true believer. I am Irish, I am Catholic, I believe God the Father, Christ the Son, the Holy Spirit, the Communion of Saints, and one Holy Catholic Church, World without End, amen.

If anybody wants to make an issue about it, I will mess them up. Lovingly, of course.

That's not to say I'm not ecumenical. I'm all for everyone believing what they want to believe. It's all a big whatever to me. I can't be bothered to care about what other people are doing. That's way too much effort.

Anyway, part of my parochial education required me to memorize a shit ton of Bible verses. My absolute favorite was Ezekiel 25:17: And I will execute my great vengeance upon them with furious rebukes, and they shall know that I am the Lord, when I lay my vengeance down upon them. That's some serious rhetorical shit, right? Gets me all breathless with anticipation whenever I think of it. Makes me want to go find a jawbone of an ass and throw down like Samson.

But I'm not all about the violence. I have some favorite non-violent passages, too. For instance I've always liked the one in Ecclesiastes where everything has a season. It goes something like, there's a season to be born and a season to die, there's season for mourning, and there's a season for kicking ass and taking names. Okay, so it doesn't say that exactly. I never got that one memorized. It was too long.

The point is, Blaine's call pulled me out of my self-pity. It wasn't the season to mourn. I had work to do.

"Blaine, calm down," I told him as went downstairs to Alex's office, the dog on my heels. "I want you to tell me exactly what happened, step by step. But give me a minute. I need some paper."

I marched up to Alex's desk and stared at him.

Alex was at his desk. He looked up, surprise on his face. "Hi, baby. That was fast."

"Shut the hell up. I need some paper and a pen."

Hiding a smile, he opened his right hand drawer and gave me a legal pad. "What are you doing?"

"Shut the hell up. Pen?"

"Nope. Tell me what you're doing, Siobhan."

"I'm writing my marriage vows, you twisted son of a bitch. Now give me a pen."

He gave me a pen. "Now that's more like it."

"Shut the hell up," I told him, snapping for the dog to follow.

"Remember, we're going out to dinner tonight," he called after me.

"Kiss my ass," I yelled back.

"I love you, too," he yelled back.

I looked at the dog and pointed at the door. "Sic 'em. Go get him. Tear out his throat."

The dog doggie grinned at me and sat down to scratch behind his ear. Great. He probably has fleas on top of it. "You're useless," I told him, and stuck my head back in Alex's office. "I thought of a name for the dog."

"What'd you think of?"

"Useless."

He nodded. "I like it. It's apt."

"Shut the hell up," I told him and marched back upstairs. "Blaine? Are you still there?"

"Yes. Is everything good on your end?" he asked carefully.