Even More Parables!

There was an old wise man named Elmew. He always asked for the same thing on Christmas. Thick, woolen socks. Every year, he got something splend-tastic, like a motor bike, or a race car, or a golden nugget. When he was 83, he asked his dad, when will I get my thick, woolen socks? My feet are freezing! And his dad told him, never, dear son. You need not socks, because socks bring no pleasure. Instead, rejoice! I have made you an extra grande butterscotch torte! They sat down and ate, and Elmew grew fat off the butter and fat content of the torte. The fat collected around the ankles, and made up for lack of socks. When he grew to be 89, his dad told him, now, son, you need socks? Here you go. Socks. They were gold-plaited aluminum socks. When he put them on, they rubbed holes in the back of his foot arch. He now bled out all the toxins, and became anemic. When he died of lack of proper nutrients, he dazzled in the knowledge that this story would be told for years to come.

Elmew represents wealth in the beauty of the real world. People around him rejoiced in fake pretty on the surface things, that held no real value. Elmew delighted in reason, wit, and brethren ship. He enjoyed socks because he needed them so that his feet were not warm, but able to withstand hardship. He believed in little more than compassion, and his friends did not understand the beauty of truth. Therefore, they believed in a shallow butterscotch-laden existence, and pretended not to know that he was different. No, they knew, they thought he was full of shit. When he dies of lack of proper nutrients, it's because his body shut down from all the butterscotch. When he wonders if his story will be told for years to come, it's because he was Jesus.



There was a woman named Chelsea. She thought highly of women with fashionable tastes in apparel. One day, she went to the corner store, and spotted a man in drag. She scoffed, stuck up her nose, and said, "You are not good enough to learn of the ways of the woman, pretend you are a hobo and beg for mercy." She then decided that he was not worthy of anyone's time, and wrote the one f-word on his forehead. He walked the rest of his life in shame. When Chelsea met the father of her new husband, he had a word scrawled out in dark ink in his forehead. She wondered about it, until he told the tale of how he was buying a woman's coat for a man, and the man wore nothing but underwear, and he wanted him to remove his clothes. The man stole his clothes and then left, and he was left wearing nothing but women's clothes from his grandma until he got enough money to buy a new wardrobe. When Chelsea heard this story, she laughed, because she remembered it not at all. Then he looked in her eye, at a twinkle, and he recognized her eye shadow patterns as the same girl who wrote the f-word on his forehead. He got up, wrote whore on her forehead, stole her clothes, and forbid the two of them to marry. Chelsea walked home in her underwear. On the way, a prophet hobo noticed a scar on her calve, and recognized her as the woman who would one day rise up and stop the world of poverty. He blessed her with a crown of thimbles, and pretended to tie a knot of thorns around her left breast. She enjoyed the banter, but didn't believe him until he showed her a picture of her in her casket. The picture had no real meaning, it was just a drawing he made because he was a charlatan and the woman was drunk on champagne. The next day, she was impregnated by the hobo, with twins. One of the twins grew up to stop poverty, the other one grew up to be a pretentious whore in a popular sitcom.

The woman Chelsea represents snobbery at its finest. When she meets the guy on the side of the road, she is given a test by God to see if she can match wits with someone in need, of a higher standing than she is. She fails miserably, and fate takes it turn and leaves her in a compromised position. When she meets the prophet hobo, it is only in a dream. He tells her a tale, of finery on her part, and pretends she is some sort of savior. She eats it up like cupcakes with very fine frosting. But when she understands that he is full of hot air, she does not remember that she has a naughty word on her forehead, and pretends she is nothing but a queen, until she bears two children, one resembling herself, but better, and the other resembling the hobo, and what he is all about. The hobo represents health and welfare, love and prosperity, but he is only a fantasy, and that never actually happened. The girl goes on to be a beggar.