Thursday, July 26, 2012

If God has a plan for everyone, why are there homeless people?

I mean, what if that's the plan for me? To live a decrepit life of poverty in a box under a highway, brains addled by cheap liquor and heroine, with a graying cat named Cat for company? Wrinkly and haggard.

I think I'd walk with a staff. And slouch towards happy kids, prophesizing of the return of the Great Toad of Yore with great and dramatic hand gestures. And a missing tooth.

That could be a plan. Hmmm.

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