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Gospel 2022 for Mary and Heather

By |2022-01-25T08:43:49-05:00January 25th, 2022|Opinions, Parting Glances|
  1. In the Year of the Grand Delusion, during the Reign of Rumors of Lost Wars, a decree went out from the Tetrarch of Theocracy, abiding in the Capitol of Divine Cacophony, that all same-sex couples must register, under penalty of biblical banishment.


  1. Now Mary, being espoused to her soulmate Heather — in sickness and health, for richer and poorer (but surely richer, as her father was wealthy and cunningly GOP powerful) — deemed it wise that they, once closeted but now of open accord, should journey without fanfare to register.


  1. Mary, who was with child — presumably engendered by a handsome, PC, conservative DNA donor — also decided it circumspect to travel without family, servants, or thick-skinned, pachydermal bodyguards.


  1. And while the two lovers pondered upon the sojourn, Mary had a dream. An angel in a bright sequined gown with feather boa visited her as she slept a deep untroubled sleep. For Mary knew in her heart of three decades-plus-five that her life and that of her espoused Heather, of four-decades-plus-seven, was truly about to be blessed.


  1. This in spite of what benighted neighbors thought, said, and vowed to do unto them if only given half a snowball’s chance in Hell (MI).


  1. And the Angel of Heavenly Drag said, “Mary, Mary, take things not quite so contrary, but go forth to the Capital of Divine Cacophony, register as required under the Head Count of Those Presumed to Be Faithlessly Heathen. But boldly proclaim your love as worthy, meritorious and tax deductible (even if your father shall be accursed as a backslider by the GOP Tetrarch of Theocracy).”


  1. Having had this dream, Mary arose, kissed Heather gently on her forehead as she slept, and fixed herself a glass of warm, homogenized milk. And, lo, it seemed to Mary as she pondered her dream, that in the stately halls of her parent’s Domicile of the Prophet Halliburton, not a creature was stirring, nay, not even a mouse. Of all womyn, Mary felt surely most singular.


  1. So, full of patience and quietude, the two womyn — technically virgin by standards of Alpha/Omega male, heterodox exactitude — boarded a second-class passenger coach for the overnight trek to the Capital of Divine Cacophony. The Bipolar Express was full of travelers. And although Mary & Heather were alone, they saw that many traveling wore about their person telltale ribbons from Life’s Coat of Many Technicolors.


  1. Hailing a Checkered Cab, the two espoused womyn upon arrival sought refuge in nearby motels. And although Mary’s father’s platinum VISA was often “Open Sesame,” she and Heather found neither room, nor food, nor service, nor kind words wherever they sought lodging.


  1. “Two women — shamefully one so big with child — are not welcome here without the wedding band of a father,” said seven-times-70 pinch-nosed desk clerks. (They belonged to the Union of Sad-u-sees, Scare-a-sees & Naysayers.) “Go walk the straight and narrow,” they advised. “But do get lost.”


  1. After hours wandering lonely streets together, an Angel of Most High Camp and Compassion appeared unto them, pointed to a spangled disco star, and said, “Follow me, guys. I know a place where you can safely party.” Holding hands against winter’s forbidding cold, Mary & Heather did as they were bidden to do.


  1. And so, in a city ghetto of unexpected seasonal warmth and afterglow, they were welcomed by an unwed mom, a stand-in dad, four butch shepherds, three kings (actually queens), six pink sheep, and a smiling, radiant child. Amen and yo!

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