Surrogate Episode I

This is NSFW.  It contains coarse language, sacrilege, unpleasant attitudes toward certain vermin, and disregard for social correctness.  If any part of that disturbs you, you have no business here.

“Surrogate” episodes started in 2009 as a bit of irreverent humor to lighten the load carried by a young friend cursed with a cancer.  At least, I’d hoped to momentarily distract him from his struggle. 

Irreverent?  Yes.  My protagonist engages in conversation with God, a God he has been himself disappointed in, nonetheless petitioning for divine intervention for his friend, who oddly is also struggling against a cancer.

Lest you worry, my young friend today is in remission, has been for some time.  He has won significant normalcy and already now ten years of good health with promise of a full life remaining.

“Surrogate” was originally in twelve episodes.  Editing for anonymity and less aggressive irreverence leaves the work in its present state.

Surrogate Episode I
Original May 19, 2009

“Hey.  Hey.  Hey!”

“What?  Oh, you again.  Didn’t you just talk to me from Tennessee?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“You mean I should say ‘Yes, sir’?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“You are close to making mockery.”

“No.  I am serious.  ‘Sir’ is a signal of respect.”

“And…”

“Work the math or the logic or the imperturbable mysteries of eternity.  This should be easy.  ‘Sir’ means respect: I didn’t say, ‘Sir.’  All the pieces are there.  How long have you known me?”

“Since before you were born.”

“I have to let that one go.”

“Okay.  First from Tennessee and now from Georgia…”

“That’s right.  I’m going to stay with it.”

“Stay with what?”

“You really don’t pay attention, do you.”

“Well, I have been busy.”

“Not busy enough.”

“You’re close again.”

“It is what it is.  It’s not so much we talk.  I talk.  I don’t think you even listen.  You never talk back.  For having all the answers, you’re pretty stingy with turning loose of a few.

“I let Obama win.”

“You cursed McCain with the bimbo.  That’s not even an answer.”

“Well, it was to some people and you know, well, …in mysterious ways.”

“Pu-leese.”

“That sounds like thee beseecheth…”

“Nope.”

“Damn.”

“You just swore.  You know that?”

“My backyard, my football, my rules.  I was hoping for a beseech.  You know how long since someone has honestly beseeched?”

“Not this time.  What gives?  This is the most you’ve talked that I can remember.”

“It’s getting lonely.  Fewer and fewer people talking to me lately.”

“Talk back.  The audience will grow.  Sit there like a bump and people lose interest. People lose faith.

“Okay, Mr. Tennessee, now Mr. Georgia, what’s on your mind?”

“Jack.”

“How’s he doing?”

“You’re asking me?”

“I talk, you should listen.”

“It’s been so long, I’m out of practice.  You have a book or something?  Or a program?”

“Got it all up here.”

“That’s funny.”

That’s sarcastic.”

“Yes.”

“So, what’s with Jack?”

“How about a tiny bit of help?”

“Why?”

“Because he’s gonna do it himself if you don’t jump in there.”

“He could.”

“What?  Why?”

“Because he has faith.”

“Not in you.  In himself.  In things physical and metaphysical.  He’s gonna make his own rules.”

“It’s a start.  The faith part.  The ‘in himself’ part.  He starts figuring out the physical part, I’ll scramble things up.”

“Wouldn’t this be a really good time to nudge just a tiny bit?”

“Why?”

“For one with all the answers, you ask a lot of questions.”

“Blame Freud.”

“Nothing doing.  Freud was a dink with talent for stating the obvious couched in gobbledygook that made it sound like he really understood more than anyone else.”

“There’s that mockery thing again.  You’re close.  Just this close.”

“To what?”

“Don’t push…”

“So, Jack needs a breather.  He’s tough and resilient.  You want him to get all the credit for beating this thing?”

“I gave the doctors skills and knowledge.”

“Poop.  All you gave the doctors is large fees, Wednesday golf, Mercedes, and egos.”

“So, Jack can have an ego.”

“He doesn’t need and ego.  He needs a break here.”

“How about a Mercedes?”

“He likes Mustangs.”

“Good car.  I told Lee…”

“No…”

“I did so; I told Lee…”

“Don’t care.”

“What?”

“The questions again.  This is easy.  Jack needs a break.  First, he needs some peace with this so he can marshal-up all the strength he has to make this thing leave.  Then he needs a little help getting back to normal again.”

“We talking about the same Jack?”

“Yes, in New Hampshire.”

“Normal?”

“The questions again.  You know all this.  Jump in here.  If it bothers you, I won’t tell him it was you.  We’ll let it go and see if his ego can tolerate his wit.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Don’t ignore me.  I’ll be back.”

“Not tonight?”

“Maybe.  Why not?”

“I bowl tonight.  Every other Tuesday in Alabama.”

“Oh.  Well, I’ll catch you later.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Alabama.”

“Hey!  Hey.  Hey?”

© SP Wilcenski 2020

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