Random Random Mother Theresa

I will probably delay the short-stories as I deem fit. I cannot be bothered writing fables and whatnot for the momentum. Just a reminder to myself and perhaps toward a small audience if by any chance the improbability that someone other than me reads this blog rings false, thereby my failure to see the overly fascinating in the idealistic freethinking texts of a man so random in every minute that he in certain occasions would be considered a mutt-mongering madman.

Just like Mother Theresa was so irresistibly compassionate she would be presumed irrationally compassionate, so compassionately irrational the she would be accompanying the rope in the country where everyone seemed to be compassionate only within a certain extent of compassion. But she would not curse them even in her eventual afterlife! For she would be too busy bickering with the people of the next life, especially a band of tedious over-moralistic monks who in this life also had made a spiritual pact of bonding involving the passive art-form of doing simply nothing, making Mother Theresa cantankerous and bitter, hereby placing her in a cage with a gorilla as cantankerous as her, except that the gorilla would be more than able to handle her difficult persona by the usage of brute strength in terms of forced penetration, and the everso good old fashioned art of extreme violence, making Mother Theresa into a pile of refuse that would occasionally still be satisfactory to a newborn necro-pedophile, granny-loving, butt-plunging gorilla, hailing from the ripe booberry fields of ridiculously far south where apes and gorillas lacked underlying conscience, and were considered bastards by the northern yetis of the opposite mountains where rain and snow usually came from below, going up -- where they in good faith believed in making yeti-love, not war and killing-sprees and the egocentricity that should not eliminate the assumptions of random rapes and pillaging of tepee-huts of whatnot.