Michelle was getting sick. She hadn’t been home in a week. She was having some symptoms that were rather frightening. Mild fever. Stuffy head. General aches and pains. This did not bode well. At the moment, Ted was trying to help her feel better. Michelle was in her trailer, resting on a sponge/bed which Ted placed on the dining table. He sat by her side with a bowl of chicken soup.
“Come on, sweetie. Drink the broth, it’ll make you feel better.”
Michelle grunted and tried to eat. She was weak and very sick. Not to mention broke. She could get all the movie deals in the world, but it wouldn’t mean a damn thing. However much money was raked in, Bobby would manage to spend all of it on coke--and no, I don’t mean the soda.
“That’s it, come on. Drink up.”
“Why me?”
“Huh?”
“Why me? I’m a good person… I go to church, I believe in God, I don’t have an angry or bitter bone in my body… why did he make my life so miserable?”
“God helps those who help themselves.”
“Which is another way of saying he doesn’t help anyone.”
“…”
“Ted?”
“What is it, Michelle?”
“I think God is dead.”
“Well, if you follow Nietzche’s theory, ‘God is dead and we have killed him.’ But I don’t think you can say with a straight face that God is dead.”
“Yes I can. He’s abandoned us to fend for ourselves.”
“Maybe he just doesn’t like what we’ve done with the place.”
“I think I’ve lost my faith, Ted… I just… I just don’t believe anymore.”
The phone rang. Ted stood up. “To be continued, dear. I’ll see who’s on the line.”
Michelle was tired and sick. She couldn’t feel more hopeless. She was just about ready to die. And then a miracle happened. Ted walked in, a horrified look on his face. “Michelle… your husband, Bobby… he’s dead. He had a cocaine overdose. I’m so sorry.”
Michelle took the next four months off to “grieve.” From that day on, Michelle would never stop believing in miracles.
(I only have 352 out of 400 required words. Here's another segment of filler. Like always, just skip it. Do you hear the people sing, singing the song of angry men? It is the music of a people who will not be slave again. When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes. Will you join in our crusade who will be strong and stand with me? Beyond the barracade is there a world you long to see? Then come take a stand and join in the fight to be free. Red the blood of angry men, black the dark of ages past. -- FB)
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
Story 33: Cocaine