Pool_2

Suit... hmmm... that which is worn.. worn thin? Is your humanity suit worn thin? You don't have one, do you? Just a disguise." The guest meandered a bit and recalled reading the text of his host's speech before the law school 's assembly following a dedication, "Words. Great words. Snakes with words. I come from a place where a great saint killed all the snakes." "DROVE THEM OUT! D R O V E them, drove them out," Johnson was emphatic in his correction. "He didn't kill them. He drove them out, " wagging his finger in intellectual command. The guest's eyes widened wildly, "Drove'm to hell, sir. Those snakes never popped up somewhere else. You know of any habitat which reviles Patrick for dumping somebody else's snakes on them? No. Drove them to hell..... Ever been to Connacht?" A frenzied shoulder shrug from his guest was rather incoordinated. "Mountains of ashes... Hmm. Nice place you have here. This isn't your regular house. You fornicate here. Your wife hasn't seen this one, huh? Oh, speaking of which, your mistress couldn't make it. She's occupied," laughing at that one. "Sloppy seconds are ye? This is what to you? What kind of man.. oh... old fashioned me.. What WAS I about? Ohhh yes. Driving. That's a mere figure of speech. I can see that you are into being driven." He slumped backward quietly for a few moments of quiet consideration. "Maybe, He'll say something. Got any birds?" He quieted again. This man of words was troubled having spent the greater part of his life in quest of a word from God, but hearing only silence. He was not comfortable about accepting such consequential communication second hand, although the allure was there. It seemed to him that God spoke to no one anymore, and he wondered if God ever would again. Thus was the foundation of his gripe with the Great Creator, a man of words,