My Cardboard Balcony

The Breaking Of The Institution by Belinda Roddie Out of his mouth splashed the litany: Straighten yourself out, and choose your own destiny. I do not pledge allegiance to any flag or symbol. I don't care if you carve that damn mantra into my back and let it get infected. I'll die before I utter the words, "under God." And yet, there he was, invoking some sort of power beyond his own mind. Nearby, pews creaked under listeners' weight. He fetched a rag from his jacket and wiped his face. Moist shadows remained on the cloth before he shoved it back into the fabric abyss it came from. Trumpets blew outside, and the soldiers saluted. The mob mentality faded. Each member of the congregation felt their fanaticism disintegrate. They embraced the identity crisis that fell upon them like rain. They walked out single file, individuals lost in their own head space, no words of any prophet or leader stuck within the hammering canals of their ears.

Ralph arrived at the family barbeque already shitfaced, so his father Stan refused to let him retrieve any more beer from the cooler. This, of course, got him angry, and the two men started throwing punches before the hamburger patties were even off the grill. This, of course, riled up Ralph's mother Lily, who charged at her family members with a still hot spatula raised, roaring like a warrior princess and causing both belligerent bastards to scurry off like frightened cattle.