Embryonic Genesis...A Fable of Sorts

Let me tell you about my journey to life. Many years ago when I was just a twinkle in my daddy’s eye and a vision of a white picket fence in my mom’s minds eye, I was an entity. I was a little being awaiting a body and my special something. It was at that time when I got a bit side tracked on the way to my spiritual shopping spree for the embryo on the go.

The Embryonic Emporium is the one-stop-shop for souls-to-be. It is where the future whoever you are going to be, gets the goods for the future. All your talents and traits can be found under one roof. Beauty, brains, charisma, good fortune are just a few of the items that can be found at this mall of uniqueness. Now there are a few lucky people who are blessed with more than one gift or special quality. Is it a lottery or is it good shopping skills?

In my memory of this time, before my time, I picture myself like the old school cartoon baby in the movie, “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” where the baby is crawling towards the cookie jar on top of the refrigerator oblivious to all the danger around him barely making it out alive because he is so happy focusing on the cookie jar. That is how I felt when I heard the intoxicating music coming from an unknown area in the Embryonic Emporium. The pleasure of seeing and hearing that beautiful music performed live was my cookie jar and from that point on I knew I was in the pursuit of pleasure as a way of life. I was in heaven. No, I was in pre-heaven. Literally.

Unlike that crazy baby in the cartoon I was not oblivious to my surroundings. While I was crawling down the red carpet towards that divine melody I noticed that there were booths located on both sides of me and they had signs above them stating what line was what. Little to-be’s were scrambling around trying to find a line to get into. Some lines were long and some were short. On the loud speaker was a monotonous voice directing the masses and stating that there would be no parking in the trait zone. There were angels with badges of honor all around this area to help with the confusion and make sure people got what they deserved.

The booths in the front area were musical, athleticism, and artistic talents with subdivisions in each category. Take the artistic category for instance. There is painting, dancing, poetry and sculptures. Actually there were more sub-categories in the artistic area but the scuffle going on in the athletic department distracted me from finding out what they all were. It seems the synchronized swimmers were trying to get in the athletic department and the head coach, Vince Lombardi was dooking it out with department head of artistic talents. Michael Angelo. Neither of them wanted to claim the swimmers and I cringed when I thought about what would happen when the ribbon dancers showed up. I imagine the angels bowling team, the holly rollers, you know the ones who make thunder would end up breaking up any fights that happen between these two egos.

The next section is the powerhouse. Standing in the tyrant line was Fidel Castro, Napoleon and Martha Stewart. Actually they were sitting in a perfectly decorated waiting room sipping latte’s and eating scones. It was in this plush atmosphere that they were discussing world domination and how to make the perfect soufflé. Right next to the meanies were the future CEO’s, political figures and Actors who have lost some of their talent because they sprung a leak on the way to the check out line. This tragedy means that they lose some of their staying power in Hollywood. They will have small careers in the movies but will have big mouths in the political arena.

As you have always heard the brains and trains lines are next to each other, as are the looks and books line. The prankster angels set up this section for giggles, but if you made it through this area and received your sense of humor then you just might find the “it” line. That is why some people have “it factor” and some people don’t.

Finally as I am making my way down the red carpet past the Fetus Festival and through the Cherub Cabaret a scary looking woman ambushes me with questions. What are you wearing?

Is it courage? Love? Honor?

Huh?

The white light, not God’s light but the camera flashes from the paparazzi blinds me so bad that I scurry on towards the celestial music that has hypnotized me. I can see it now. My destiny. Club Embryo.

Club Embryo is an exclusive nightclub where only the best of the best can perform. On stage right now it is the celestial stylings of THE holiday angels singing Christmas carols for the maker himself. The line is long and filled with all kinds trying to see this one of a kind show, produced by the souls of Quincy Jones and Oprah. I turned around and looked at the soul next to me, Pamela Des Barres, future famous world class groupie and future author of the tell all book, “I’m with the band; confessions of a groupie, and asked her, “How do you get in?”

“When you are touched by an angel of course.” She replied.

The bouncers at this selective establishment were dressed very sharply and they were very techno- savvy wearing top of the line headsets for communication. Their suits were by Armani and Hercules designed their muscles. Future secret service men? Maybe. Their eyes couldn’t betray them because designer glasses hid them. As they strutted up and down the long line waiting for word from the guy behind the curtain everyone was on tippy toes leaning on the rope ready to run inside should they be picked. I really hope they pick me because I didn’t stop at any of the other lines inside the Embryonic Emporium to get my special traits. My head was bowed, eyes closed tight while I was bouncing to the music chanting my little chant, pick me, pick me, pick me when the angel touches my shoulder and whispers in my ear, ”You’re in”.

I’m in; I’m in…Woo Hoo. Move over Mary Hart I am going to the show. Pat O’Brian get out of my way, I have a show to go to. As I was running for my front row seat, here everyone has front row seats, I saw a cute dog running scared. I followed this little mutt (I must have loitered at the animal lovers tent) as he ran behind the curtain and revealed the guy who granted admission to the show of all shows. It was the wizard, The frickin’ Wizard of Oz! He granted me admission for life. This was my special something that the Gods gave me.

Entertainment for free.