Sister Mary Satan

“We are hippie chicks, bent on battle against Sister Mary Satan and her army.” --- Terry


Sister Mary Satan was a religion class teacher that I had to endure when I was in my junior year in high school. This woman was hell-bent on destroying everything else that was not so Catholic. My best friend Kylie made her one and only trip to the principal’s office because of this woman’s prodding and paranoia, the reason being that she thought Kylie was practicing witchcraft (which she was by the way, but hey leave her alone). She did the same thing to me by accusing me of gambling during a class retreat, which I was able to successfully refute by technicality. I marched up to the discipline officer’s room with a dictionary in one hand and went out with a smug look on my face. Gambling my ass. Was there money involved? No I don’t think so. I’m innocent I tell you! Innocent!

But Sister Mary Satan had her moments. It’s more of my friend Theresa’s moment now that I look back on it. Eating inside the classroom is parallel to killing one of your young and can get you into a serious tangle with “the law”. Therese didn’t care, and to think she’s going to be a lawyer. She was eating cookies when Sister Mary Satan spotted a piece on top of her desk. Her forever-bulging eyes bulged some more to our amusement and she started ranting.

SMS : Ms. Cruz, you are aware that eating is not allowed I assume?

Theresa : Yep. Pretty much.

SMS : What’s that on your desk? Why do you have a cookie on your desk?

Theresa : (without skipping a beat) I’m using it as paperweight.

SMS : (speechless) Uh, okay. Well…keep it.

Therese : As soon as I’m done. Not to worry.

And so now you can see Sister Mary Satan’s face in the dictionary alongside the words “gullible” and “fool”.

The reason for digging up this memory and putting into words is because I found a stinky decaying paper in my old files that dates back to 1998. It was a print out of an E-mail that I sent only to my friends and for some reason, people started coming up to me saying, “That was funny. I loved it.” For a while I was cold and sweating fearing that the E-mail would reach one of the higher authorities and then they’ll track it down to me, but it didn’t…which sucked. It would have been quite a challenging hole to get out from compared to the fairly easy gambling issue. Besides, I could have used the excitement amidst a fairly boring school year. It probably was a mean thing to do, but it was supposed to be an inside joke. And you’d probably wag your finger at me saying “How dare you, she’s a woman of god!” Well she wasn’t yet at that time. She quit teaching after that school year. By all means, not because of the little poem that I concocted using the famous “Alanis Morissette Lyric Generator” at the now defunct site The Brunching Shuttlecocks., but because she was convinced she would be a good nun.

Take this:

"I Think"
I Think Snakes are really a huge problem
I Think Moles are too much on my mind
I Think Crosses have got a lot to do with why the world sucks
But what can you do?

Like a Red rain, beating down on me
Like an E.E. Cummings line, which won't let go of my brain
Like The Devil's ass, it is in my head
Blame it on Sister Mary Satan
Blame it on Sister Mary Satan
Blame it on Sister Mary Satan

I Think Stringy Hair are gonna drive us all crazy
And Bulging Eyes make me feel like a child
I Think Provincial Accents will eventually be the downfall of civilization
But what can you do? I said what can you do?

Like a Red rain, beating down on me
Like an E.E. Cummings line, which won't let go of my brain
Like The Devil's ass, it is in my head
Blame it on Sister Mary Satan
Blame it on Sister Mary Satan
Blame it on Sister Mary Satan

Like a Red rain, beating down on me
Like The Devil's smile, cruel and cold
Like E.E. Cummings's ass, it is in my head
Blame it on Sister Mary Satan
Blame it on Sister Mary Satan
Blame it on Sister Mary Satan


The next time I saw her she was very nun-ish, habit and all. I remember feeling queasy when I saw her because even though people from 20 feet away would have been blinded by the ultra-whiteness of her new garbs, I was still seeing fire and brimstone raging on behind her. The pristine white cloth turned black. The gentle expression turned to a sneer. Horns tore the cloth of her veil and behind her a long whooshing tail flailed about. She smiled and I saw pus-filled bleeding gums and dark teeth, and I froze as she encircled me with her arms and whispered…

“I hope you haven’t been gambling.”

Alien Gibberish

If aliens were invading earth and we managed to ward them off and win after some overly theatrical speech about mankind, the human spirit, courage, about how we can overcome differences, and how we are united in fighting for our survival, the right to live, and all that crap…then you’re probably watching a movie. It’s a sci-fi geek’s wildest orgasmic dream come true. If the universe is going to launch one massive playoff between different worlds, I don’t think we’d even qualify as a wildcard. I’d say we’d be a small bump on the road that the big monster trucks have to go through. Say we get to that do-or-die point and some self-appointed righteous hero wannabe decides to step up to the plate…The most you’d get is an angry mob, a blind charge…and then the aliens would come and zap us one by one like a deranged kid amazed with what can be done with a magnifying glass and an ant hill gone berserk.

I say when the aliens come we should just sit our asses down and enjoy whatever time is remaining. Pig out. Get laid. Go on a killing spree. Whathaveyou. Because we’re all going to die. And I say that not in a condescending way but in a pleasant manner-of-fact tone. It’s not like we’re battling an attack of locusts or cockroaches from outer space because even I have to admit that we could probably kick their behinds. We’re going to be against higher intelligence, superior technology, yada yada yada. I don’t think our Tom Cruises and Will Smiths can save humanity then. If they can’t do the job, who can right? *snort*

The Reverse of Being Ü

It amazes me how one person can make you so sad with just a mere bat of an eyelash. The pang in itself is prolonged, the tremors of it leaving you dumbfounded, unsure and unbelieving that you allow yourself to be subjected to it in the first place and that somebody would have the gall to mete out such atrocious behavior to someone who doesn’t deserve such treatment. These can either be meant coldheartedly or worse without knowledge and intent, but either way there’s one thing you can be certain of --- sadness amalgamated with anger leaves you both weak and frustrated. It leaves you tired of the other, of yourself, of the higher being that finds your circumstance as amusing. If only one or the other can dissolve into thin air and never materialize again if its purpose is only to hurt you, but whom are you kidding? You’d rather disappear yourself because you wouldn’t be able to live with it. It’s difficult to lose a person through death. Much more if you deliberately lose them while they are alive.

In every situation there is an option, a choice. Slim pickings. It is selfish, but I have to say it, self-preservation. Everyone else has the potential to cause you harm, to inflict pain, to bring sadness. So for crying out loud--- Don’t be a martyr! Don’t be a hero! Take care of yourself. Because the sad truth is, as virtuous and sympathetic as you are, it doesn’t mean others will be.

Time ticks on. Or has time stopped?