Saturday's Storyteller: "You better start doing it right..."
by Belinda Roddie You better start doing it right, my dear. Because Lord knows, there's no Messiah to save your hide if you sink too fast in the molasses. Not even Social Media Jesus could pull you from the sickly sweet quagmire, and without the Christ in Christianity, it's just Ianity - and Ian next door is useless, too. I've given you time to perfect the dance, time to practice your dexterity. Knife juggling doesn't cut it if it cuts you open instead and leaves you to bleed out like the oil of a crushed corvette. And swallowing fire isn't meant to leave your vocal chords as thin as ashes. You can still sing, for crying out loud; if not, then whom will your sister accompany when she plays drums? You are as frail as the plates I spun when I was your age. This circus act is a circus act in the way I didn't want to define it. I broke porcelain between my teeth; you carry yourself as if you were a disgusting, lumpy doll. No frills can substitute the clumsines