He had died, and entered Summerland, marveling at it's beauty. He
had been an alcoholic in life, trying for many years to shut out the pain
of being alive by hiding within a bottle.
But another had told him of the means of escape from that Wheel
of Pain, and he had started upon his path of recovery.
As do most, he walked about the Summerland, looking for those he
had loved in life, and finding them more often than not.
He was strolling with the one he had loved most of all, who had
died before him (and that had been a great trial and loss to his earthly
self, and the greatest testing for his sobriety) when they came upon a
high wall. From the other side of it, they could hear lubrigious, sad and
plaintive hymns being sung, over and over.
"Who's that behind the wall?" He said.
"Come, and see a bit more, and then I'll tell you," was the
answer from his beloved.
They circumscribed the wall, which while very large and covering
quite a lot of the Summerland, still only enclosed a small portion of it.
It was topped with barbed wire.
"So, who -is- it behind there? Are they locked away from the rest
of Summerland because they were bad?"
"No," she answered, "They built their wall themselves. Those are
the Fundies of every stripe. They've locked themselves in with that
Aspect of the Lord that they insist is the only One there is...you know,
the Middle Eastern Thunder God that went in for co-dependency and
vengeance in a really big way? They even have partitioned it off into
smaller compounds, so each little group of them can be alone with
themselves. You see, they think they're the only ones here....."
Summerland was nice, and he had no more craving for alcohol (for
to pass to the Summerland sober is to recover at last) but he still felt
the need for the companionship of the meetings.
So he began to ask around if there were such things in
Summerland.
A quiet man, who gave his name only as "Bill," said "Yes, there
is. Go over there, and turn right, and you'll see it. I think it's about
to start pretty soon now. As a matter of fact, I think I'll go along with
you and show you the way."
Both of them together walked over the soft grass, smiling at the
many people there, until they came to a group that were seated in a rough
circle. There was a pot of coffee, singing happily to itself, and a
wonderful feeling of closeness and shared tribulations.
They seated themselves, each with a cup of coffee, and waited.
After a short while, a man walked into the Circle, and said,
"This is the Summerland Meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. Hi! I'm God, and
I'm an alcoholic."
The Maiden looked a bit puzzled.
"What was that all about?" She asked.
"What?" said the Fool. He was lying on a riverbank, making
something he would call a "platypus," and giggling to himself.
"That last story up there. The one about the alky in Summerland.
It's not really about Us, is it? I thought these stories were about Us."
"Dunno about You, but I have a tendency to bend my elbow once
in a while," the Fool muttered. A garland of grape leaves slid sideways
over one of His ears as He spoke. A quickly suppressed giggle came from a
Dryad's tree.
"Well, I don't understand!" The Maiden pouted.
"Don't worry about it. It's just the author grinding his own axe
a bit."
"Oh. Well, that's OK, I guess. Are you really going to make that
octypus thing?" The Lady leaned over the Fool for a better look.
"That's 'platypus,' and I certainly am! Gonna drive Darwin nuts
with it! And those anti-evolution types will go even more crazy! Duck's
bill, mammal fur, and lays eggs no less!"
The Maiden leaned over a bit further, and overbalanced Herself.
Clawing madly for anything to stop her fall, she grabbed the Fool, and
both of them, flailing wildly, landed in the cool water.
They looked at each other, and then looked at the platypus, who
looked back at them with an expression of such incredibly solemn gravity
that they both dissolved into fits of giggles.
"You look pretty silly with a crown of water-weed," said the
Fool.
"But you should see what You have on Your head," snickered the
Maiden.
The Fool grabbed for the top of His head, but found nothing there
as the Maiden looked at Him with a smirk of triumph on Her face.
"Gotcha!" She whispered.
The Fool looked at Her with stunned silence, His eyes wide. Her
expression of joyful victory at having fooled the Fool caused Him to
begin laughing again. She joined him in laughter as they waded to the
bank.
Thus it was, and so it is, and evermore shall be so!
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