Karma On A Lonely Friday

The girl, sitting next to you, at the bar, to your right, nooo, your other right, is, along with the other patrons, in this, mmmm, ?okay establishment?

I mean, it's not a dive, but, there aren't that many, "cultured" people,
beating down the doors to get into this place, but it doesn't smell like piss and puke either.- so let's go with that,

So where was I, right, this girl, like the others, in this okay establishment, is quietly listening, to the diatribe of one,
Father Terrence Alloissious Xavier Boss of 'The Church Of Saint Frances Over By The Door',

The place right across the street from the donut shop.
No!, not that donut shop, the donut shop over by the strip club, yeah that one,

Her hair, is long and champagne blonde, it has that sorta glow, when it catches the light, just the right way,
that reminds you, of the strands of silk, that wave and flow, on the tops of the stalks, in the cornfields,
much the way the stage light is catching it now. See it? There, right above her shoulder,
where her tresses flow down across the curve of her small, strong breasts.
Breasts that are straining against the white tank top, that's adorned with bunnies and kittens,
stitched, strategically, in place to nestle in her cleavage or lay lazily on the ridge, of those dark,
half dollar circles, that surround her long, sensual, nipples. that are poking out, of the shirt, that she's wearing like a tattoo.

    "Fornication! Is a fucking perversion!"

You, and the lithesome blonde, simultaneously, pffffttttt, the sips you just took, across the bar and onto the black mat flooring,
barely missing the feet of Killian the bar dude. He gives, the two of you a glance It's a look, of mild amusement,
but it's tinged with, "Oh great, something else to clean."
You and Sarah, stare at each other, through the mirror, willing each other not to laugh.

No! Not Tara, Sarah. Yes, I'm one hundred percent sure. What? Oh! You're welcome.

Father Lou, as he let's the people he likes call him, is never more on, than when he's just a little bit, off.

    "That's right I said it, Fornication is a fucking perversion. Now before you get all pissy with me, Let me surmise my surmisation.
     You seeee, fornication, is what you'd call, fucking. Now, I'm not talking about fucking, I'm talking about fucking!
     You know, like fucking someone over, the sex were you use somebody like your right hand.
     You don't give a fuck about them, so you cum and you're out the door, without even a thanks or getting em a towel.
     That kinda fucking. That's Wrong, wrong, wrong."

No, not always, but he is always more astute, in his prophesying, when he's had his third glass of wine and his usual, three hits off of Sallie's bong.
"You gotta know you're limitations," he tells people, "but more importantly, you need to know the point,
where you moderate yourself, into the best version of you." And if Father Lou Knows anything, He knows, his moderations.
Now quit interrupting, the stories almost over.

The girl is still staring into the mirror, her gaze is miles away and you get lost, in the steel blue of her eyes, as your thoughts flow,
through their reflection, in the glass.
Her right eyebrow raises a little, as she ponders the words, of the man in the black leather jacket.
She purses her lips, tilts her head, then nods it slowly and "hmm"s, in an understanding tone of acknowledgement.

    "Now don't get me wrong, sex isn't bad. sex is like karma, or lighter fluid, or guns, or trucks, or whiskey.
     It's not the thing, that's good or bad, it's your intentions, and your will, it's the way you wield it, that shape it towards good or obscene.
     Morality has many layers my friends, but once you cross that line, well there's where that greyscale ends"

She sees you staring at her, through the looking glass and smiles.
Her chest, rises upwards, in time with yours, as your breaths, even if for just for just a couple of cycles, are shared, in perfect unison.
Her nipples strain against the clothe of her shirt, one of the bunnies wriggles it's nose, and she shivers. You can smell her musk, taunting your senses, you breathe in deep and sigh.
Your heart pulses a little more, and you shiver too. Her face turns a little red.

    "You see, if you have sex for procreation? Amen people, that's a wonderful thing.
     If you have sex, to please your partner, or just share, in a fun, stress relieving time with someone you actually like, and want to please. Amen to that too.
     But if you use someone, because your tired of using your own damn hand, if you molest or rape, well that's a karmic, Fuck You brothers and sisters.
     It's a a karmic fuck you, that you, put right into the world. And if you don't think it'll come back and bite ya...
     well, well, well, what you put in, you'll get out, threefold."

You watch, in the mirror, as the girl, sitting next to your image there, turns to look at the one sitting next to hers.
You turn, just in time, to feel her leaning in, to whisper in your ear.
"Wanna spread some good karma?" She asks.

    "Don't even get me started on Porn, paying people to fuck just to make a...".

You grab Father Lou by the collar and kiss his forehead and whisper, "Thanks Lou." then turn and quicken your pace,
to catch up to the girl, in the short black skirt, with the two glittery butterflies, sparkling and glistening, and
dancing on her cheeks, as she skips towards the door, holding her hand backwards, waiting for yours.

    "...buck is just disgusting, I mean where's the love, people, where's the..."

Have fun you two, spread that good karma.