The Monkey and the Duck

Henry spent two years in Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary for income tax evasion, but it went deeper than that— it was about his hatred of the U.S. Government— Henry not liking that his tax dollars funded  hypocrites who ran a war machine— 

When he got out of the joint he made a b-line for the schwartz whore house in Kansas City.  Drinking shots of Tequila, eyeing the goods and feeling he couldn’t go through with it, the ideal of  exchanging fluids with a stranger sickened him.

High-minded Henry didn’t care about money either, one day at the park he saw a man with a monkey and a duck. Henry knew that such pets would make a person happy and that life wasn’t about money much, more about your relationship with ducks and monkeys.

Erudite Henry, the joint wised him up,  knowing the stuff of life was like a boomerang,  coming back at you with a different twist.

Henry the Buddhist ate Shebat at the Chabad House. He liked it, it gave him a feeling of balance in his stomach and between the ears. He also enjoyed the way the Rabbi’s kids ran wild and screamed after prayers. The meal was free, wine too, the Jews never drank more than a glass. 

This year —the Year of the Cottonwood Seed near Walden Pond was a good year for nature lovers— People who  found G-d in green solitude, this year is for you.

Henry loved the down-trodden, the slobs with messy rooms and dirty dishes in there sinks. The unorganized who forgot to pay their taxes and  bills, avoiding the righteous and punctilious as if they were Lepers. 

It was his nature, it was in him. 

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