To the Mask of an Angel

The "Bangkok A to Z Guide;" click a letter to go
to the page with entries beginning with that letter.

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X-Y-Z

[Home]

Click here for
the current
time and date
in Bangkok.

Search for:

Please visit
the sites
below for a whole lot of
good information!

Tales From Burma

-by-

Richard K.  Diran

"To the Mask of an Angel"

I didn't expect you to bake me a pumpkin pie, but after all, the
holidays are upon us and I would have expected a token, something,
perhaps a cheery letter with pop out figures of our blessed lord Jesus
in his straw filled manger, surrounded by kings bearing precious gifts
and archangels whose rigid features and legendary visages are aglow
with the light of the Star of Bethlehem burning brightly above.

But in fact, for all I know or could hazardly surmise, you may have, in
spite of your edifying wisdom, fallen down a manhole and been
swept away in a torrent of nibbling rats, or been stabbed in the back
by unruly natives who mistook you for a cop in a housing project in
Detroit, or had your house burned to the ground by hooded
neighbors, while you lounged in an easy chair, watching black and
white reruns of Gilligan's Island.

Not to cast malicious aspersions on your sterling character, I will
successfully feign a lie and proclaim to the world that I did indeed
receive your hand-painted postcard embossed in gold, with your
personal interpretation of the Birth of the Universe, brushed in color,
taped to the back of which was the fifty-thousand-dollar cashiers
check, along with three first-class tickets on Air Plush to Tierra Del
Fuego with those giggling pubescent lesbian twins who can't
pronounce my name, one of whom seems to be lactating.

Yes, your largesse is legendary. I remember when I thought I would
die, curled up in a ball at the side of the road, frayed in the bushes,
my head having been cleanly severed in that freak windmill accident,
that you recovered my skull from that shallow birdbath at the edge
of the glade and stitched it back to my neck with three pound test,
and a rusty fish hook.

How can I ever forget what you risked when you blew the wall out of
that Turkish prison where I was being tortured with red hot irons,
and scheduled to be shot at dawn. How we ran under a hail of
bullets! How about when you offered to lay down your life in
exchange for a total stranger, that pregnant girl on the airliner who
was dying of hypertension, her lithe neck flattened under the boot of
that swarthy terrorist. Who cannot recall the war deeds, valiant and
fair, for which your chest sags with the weight of satin ribbons and
the gold medals of honor.

I will freely admit, I too have seen young virgins lining the roadway,
with wide teary eyes full of hope, reflecting your motorcade as it
passed, strewing garlands of blossoms under the tires of your
limousine, beating their breasts with tiny flushed fists, imploring you
with unmistakable gestures, to impregnate them, as they all wish to
carry the Son of God.

No, I'll not go on, causing you to blush. praising your generosity and
largeness of heart. Everyone can observe for themselves your noble 
statue, cast in bronze, you astride a galloping stallion, set on a solid
block of the purest Italian marble, the monument to your glory and
ceaseless modesty and altruism, surrounded by rare fragrant flowers
that your followers bring with incense and burning candles. The
masses bow low in servile reverence, their thick brows pressed
against the flagstone, their lips quiver in prayer. Oh how proudly
the horse rears up, and Oh, the majesty in the bridge of your nose.
Look how the sunlight plays on the curls of your copper hair. God
what a hero, although blanketed in pigeon shit.

Copyright © 1997, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, and 2005 by Kurt T. Francis, except as noted otherwise. Materials by Christopher G. Moore, Dean Barrett, Richard K. Diran, Sonia Pressman Fuentes, and Hardy Stockmann are copyrighted © by those respective authors. All rights reserved. Please see the Copyright Notice for further information.

Click here for our Privacy Statement

Please direct all inquiries to mekhongkurt@bangkokatoz.com