RAMBLINGS OF THE MIND

17:15:56

 

“George, come on, make that face.”

 

“What face?”

 

“That face, which makes you look like a priest in front of the tabernacle,”

 

“Common James, all mantises know how to look like they’re praying,” grumbled George.

 

“But nobody does it better than you do. You really make them believe that you are praying. So please, make that face. Hurry,” James said with such an urgency that it scared George.

George started bobbing his head back and forth, with both front legs now ready to do the act.

 

“But why, James? I’m only a mantis,” George whispered, really scared now.

 

“Because I see the butt.” James’s voice was a little bit higher now, and with much more urgency.

 

“What? Whose butt? Where?”

 

George and James were right in front of a man whose eyes were wet with tears, knees shaking, and hands trembling. It was dusk, and the sun was partly hidden now behind the tall trees in front of him. He didn’t see how beautiful the sunset was. He couldn’t. His mind was not there, much less his soul. In more ways than one, he was lost. In his right hand, he held a black metallic thing. And James softly said,

 

“Yes, the butt of a gun.”