somewhere on my way by Anna N. Schnieden (best ebook pdf reader android .TXT) 📖

powerful, and our only maker, the father of all, why the hell does he not make fucking babies for ones that are fit to be parents? Look what happened to us. The god is supposed to be our father. So far as a father, he’s done a shit job. What did we do wrong? We’re just bloody kids.” Moonlight.

 

“Exactly, Moony. We’re bloody kids…he he.” Me.

 

 

“Oh come on, God has plans. There are very few best friends who love and understand each other like you guys. Don’t you think maybe this is his plan?” Mr. Moody Be Good.

 

“I don’t understand this bitch (me) and I have no choice!! Ok! It looks like he made mistakes. So, he sent me a bitchy one, is that what you believe?” Moonlight.

 

 

“Oh well, maybe that’s it, Moony. Maybe he’s actually at…the god’s palace? And he did say, ‘Oops’ when we landed on this earth. So, he gave me you.” Me.

 

“Oh, for fuck sake. Are you really that dumb Aye? What the fuck could a 7-year-old do for…a 6-year-old…shitty child? Did I mention an event about myself? You two are so hopeless!!” Moonlight.

 

“Moony, god or not, I’m lucky, I have you!” Me.

 

 

“Me too. You’re my worst nightmare!” Moonlight.

 

 

That was how it had become my real interest, I wanted to know what other religionists would say or other agnostic intelligentsias would say. Therefore, every time and everywhere I went, the god was one of 10 things to do in…wherever I was.

 

I started with Buddha, a title given to the founder of Buddhism in northeastern India in the 5th century. The wisdom of freedom from suffering from aspirations and desires for pleasure, monks who are ordained, having the authority to perform certain rites, the community of men typically living under vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, they wear orange shaolin and they are hard to miss. The orange colours are different depending on the countries, traditions, and denominations. Furthermore, the monks ingest once or twice a day depending on which denomination they are, they do not live with their family, only a short visitation or occasional matters, those whose wives are living are forbidden to go home.

 

Buddhists give the essential needs; food needs are put together (even if they are not compatible) into a monk’s bowl, typically black. Meal times are early until 8:00 am and 11:30 am until 1:00 pm, and if they miss their meals, they can only drink milk or water. Those who have a meal only once a day do not drink after 1:00 pm. I was thinking, “Wow, they really get to the point of Buddha’s doctrine…cool, let’s visit them shall we, Mr. Lunatic? Ms. Conscience?” When things need a full resolve, I always need every resident in my skull…and circumspection is required!

 

 

My first stop was not far from Bangkok, toward the southern provinces. A temple with a reputation for spiritual being believed to act as an attendant in a very fashionable way, Tattoos! I was thinking what a thoughtful…interesting idea! There were many kinds of animal allegories, the spiritual of luck and protection.

 

Allegories meaning:

 

 

Tiger: Strong, fast, and lucky; good for boxers, police, and soldiers.

 

 

Monkey: Clever, persevering, love and money; good for businessmen, businesswomen, students, and appears to be a common allegory.

 

Bird (only in Buddhists’ fairy tales, looks like a miniature eagle): Intelligent, studious, judgment, and does well in business; good for lawyers, students, teachers, and business planners.

 

I did not go on more than that because I was getting dizzy, too many of them. However, I had been persuaded about the theory of the superpower of the allegories, so I picked the birdy one. Well, I was hoping to have some remedy for my dull-wittedness.

 

First things first, I bought an offering, which was flowers, 3 burnable incense sticks wrapped with a banana leaf, and an envelope for money-giving. Then I gave it to a monk who was also a tattooist with a 70-centimetre slender needle in his hand. I was going to change my mind, but my workers said, “Come on, don't be a chicken!” Sure, no problem! The needle needs to be long because monks cannot touch women, girls, little girls, and baby girls!

 

It was painful; it did not feel like an actual tattoo…it felt like I had been stabbed; good thing I picked a miniature bird for my miniature arm. The last stop for this miracle tattoo…allegory…cure? I needed to be activated by the headmaster of the temple, who was also a monk, he blew on my head with some words that are believed to be an ancient language originally from Cambodia in the 1000s BC, and some believed it was a dark magic.

 

 

I got migraines a lot from learning all that. My original plan was not about a miracle cure for stupidly, but to demonstrate the existing fact of the miracle allegory. I thought, “Wonderful, if it works, I will be…new me…awesome!!” However, I had to wait for the results of my demonstration another 4 months. It was March 10 to March 15, and while I was waiting, I had learnt that they were decent about making money, at least; the headmaster built a school, a hospital, a shelter, and an orphan home, fair enough I think. I also learnt that after being a monk for a couple of years they have approximately, 200,000 baht in their savings, I guess, because everything is free, additional donations and a lot, a lot of stairways to heaven. Therefore, the number of savings seems to be accurate, and many monks actually were in heaven…before….in hell!

 

Breaking News, police arrested a popular respected monk in a 5-star hotel with a young woman…doing bedtime’s story! Caught a monk in a disco club! Arrested a monk…doing bedtime’s story with a young boy! It was on and on at the time like fashion shows!

 

Bombshell, some Thai residents captured pictures of a monk doing…hmm…bedtime’s story with…a dog behind a temple! I had to admit, that was overwhelmingly imaginable impetuous passion; I mean, I love dogs too, but… That was too much….imaginable…love…? for me.

 

Up north, monks seemed to like restaurants; I don’t blame them, it is better than walking in the morning with a giant bowl…looking for food! They also liked malls and markets, oh, and coffee shops for afternoon snacks with 2 iPhones, 1 iPad and….servants. Some said they also collected interest…cool, monks with talents…nice…done! On Valentine’s days, I saw some of them, buying flowers, red roses, and chocolate or girls’ things. I was not sure what happened to the nomenclature of poverty and chastity.

 

Although, I was told that there are some temples, in some forests and valleys that literally obey to the vows, I was going to go once, but the road to there was fissuring, no houses and no cell phone signal. Moonlight said if I did not turn around, she was going to kill me…twice! I did not find out if it is a place of privilege or not. However, from the

 

 

half of the way I drove, the monks over there are possibly religious and traditional like…no heaven…no hell.

 

The day of the moment of truth had come: March 10, 1990, was a spiritual awakening. Everyone who had a tattoo or more and…more tattoos needed to be in the present moment. So did I! There were tiny white ropes on the temple’s fence, trees, roofs, and hydro poles. The monks were gathering in a big circle and in the middle of the circle was a gigantic white table, which was full of objects that were about to become…prodigious. Such as Buddha statues (Prince Siddhartha Gautama) in different sizes, water bottles filled up with…I believe it was oil, which had expired scorpions or snakes or millipedes drowned inside them. I was informed by a lady who stood beside me that the bottles were ingredients of magical potions; each arthropod had its power. She also gave me a tip:

 

“If you want a man to fall in love with you, obsessively, put your first period in a soup or a coffee, and make him drink it. Write his name with your period on a paper at midnight and burn it. But beware of Cambodians’ dark magic, it is very strong! You want me to help you?” The lady.

 

“Ahmm…I’m fine with myself at the moment. Thank you for the information!” Me.

 

 

Well, I had never dared the experimental lovesick…Cambodians’ magic because I was thinking,

 

“What if after that…particular procedure, I find out that he does not have a giant male genital organ, but a small sparrow, what am I gonna do with him? Clearly, I can’t dump him, can I? Don’t even think about if I spell his name wrong, then I might end up with another man...or worse! The better way is to leave it alone!” Me, thinking.

 

Another reason I was there was because I was told that the activation reflected individual magical influence, it depended on animal allegories! For example, whoever had a snake tattoo would serpentine homogeneously. I was so excited!

 

 

As soon as the monks said the last word of the magical spell, some believers started shaking, some started crawling, some started yelling, some started screaming and…up on a tree or with legs and hands walking together on 4WD. When I turned my face back to talk to the lady, she disappeared, but an attention caught my eyes. There was the lady, rubbing her face on the sandy ground, so I pulled her up as soon as I could, but it was too late, her face was covered with sand and some…bloody…and both of her hands were bleeding!

 

“Why did you do that? I was going to become a snake!!” The lady, and the angry eyes.

 

 

“Oh, please don’t do that. You’re beautiful. Fuck the magic shit.” Me.

 

 

“If you stop me again, I’ll bite you. Do you understand?” The lady.

 

 

Undoubtedly, she was aware of her actions, nothing to do with magical influence, so I just let her be; besides, I did not want to get bit. Before I was going to move away, a man behind me asked,

 

“Do you believe in this…crazy?” The man.

 

 

“Well, I don’t know yet. I’m waiting to fly. A girl can dream!” Me.

 

 

He was going to say more, but a human with 4 feet was running toward to my…upright position. I could not fly yet, so I used my natural ability, ran to my car, which was just right behind me (after I burnt 3 dead bodies without recognizing them, the temple’s keeper gave me a private parking…spot?) The human with 4 feet stopped just only a foot from my car; I was not sure what my car insurance would have done if that…4WD human decided to strike!

 

At the end of the ritual, the tattooist said, “Remember, boys, don’t be under women or women’s clothing. The spells will wash away!” Hmm…he did not mention girls??? I did not try to discover the interpretation for girls and I did not bother to ask because by the end of the day, no flying for me. Moonlight said, “Maybe your bird is too small!!”

 

 

 

I met the headmaster of the temple…once, he was respected as a supernatural monk and every Buddhist knew him. The rich always came to see him, the poor just like myself could see him only if we had a fresh tattoo. However, he wanted to see me… personally and…privately, I was jumping. “Shit…Really?”

 

“The groundskeeper called me, said that you want to see me, sir?” Me.

 

 

“Ah, Skeptic. They tell me I need to talk to you. You’re looking for a religion. Is that right?” The headmaster.

 

“Yes, sir. But I have to admit, I’m not sure I want to be a Buddhist.” Me.

 

 

“Why is that?” The headmaster.

 

 

“Well, I don’t understand the nomenclature of Buddhists’ concept of heaven. In order to be definitely in heaven, I need to have a son who becomes a monk. Other than that I will be calculating indefinitely before heaven. What if I only have girls or infertility? Can I use somebody else’s son? Or do I need to adopt one?” Me.

 

“Are you worrying about heaven