A Sudden Manifestation of the Divine
“Okay, so today we will begin our unit on the dissection of fetal pigs,” the balding science teacher said to his class of advanced biology students. “I know that some of you have applied for college already and that many of you are interested in the medical field – nursing, pre-med…”
He began listing off majors in science as Gabby eagerly looked to the back of the room where the fun would begin. She couldn’t wait to put on her nerdy goggles, the smelly plastic apron and the blue latex gloves to eviscerate the smelly dead animal which awaited her presence, scalpel in hand. Unable to wait to get to college to observe cadavers and take all of the required nursing courses, she had decided that the fetal pig was her chance – her chance to show her biology teacher what she was capable of – that she would someday make a great nurse. Maybe then he would consider writing her a letter of recommendation so that she could receive that hefty scholarship and have four years of nursing school paid for. Oh, if only…
“Alright, let’s get started,” he stated, motioning them to the back of the room. Gabby shot up out of her desk, immediately beginning to put on her gear. As soon as it was all on, she raced to the back table and began setting up the tray that would soon hold her dead pig – her future. Nervous anticipation grew within her as her science teacher began to pass around Bag o’ Pig to her fellow classmates, who did not look nearly as enthused as she did. She twiddled her thumbs, eyes darting around with excitement, as she watched the others grimace as they opened the bags that contained the unborn swine.
What a bunch of sissies, she thought to herself. Why were they incapable of just sucking it up and dissecting this damn pig? It wasn’t a daunting task, especially compared to things that she would have to endure as a registered nurse - oooh, which would be happening in the Spring of 2008 – of course she would graduate in as little as four years. She would not be like those losers who stayed in school for 10 years and never received a degree. She thought of one of her favorite touchstones from William Blake’s Proverbs of Heaven and Hell that kept her inspired – kept her on the right track: “If the fool would persist in his folly, he would become wise.” She was not the fool, and would strive, seek, find and never yield. Oh, nice reference to Tennyson, she thought to herself.
It was her time. Her science teacher approached her table with Pig-in-a-Bag – a quite grotesque Pig-in-a-Bag as a matter of fact, she thought as she eyed the contorted specimen, which was soaking in a dirty orange liquid. She wrinkled her nose as he threw it down upon the table; it gave a little bounce and then laid there flat – dead – static.
Suck it up, she thought to herself, knowing that what she would have to endure as a nurse would be far worse than that of a dead fetal pig. She apprehensively took the scissors and began to slice the top of the bag open as the smell of formaldehyde filled her nostrils – stung her eyes, burned her nose, dirtied her once-clean glove. She shut her eyes, gripped the table and tried to breathe evenly. After a moment, she opened them to find that the fetal pig was staring at her with serious eyes – eyes that meant business. To her disbelief, it then began to move its mouth to speak to her!
At this point, Gabby gasped and wondered why none of her other classmates had witnessed the pig move. Why weren’t they freaking out too?! As her eyes widened in terror, the pig spoke: “Gabby, you must know that all structures in words are partly rhetorical, and hence literary, and the notion of scientific or philosophical or verbal structure free of rhetorical elements is an illusion.”
“What the hell are you talking about?!” she shouted loudly at the pig who eyed her intently. The room became silent and all of her classmates turned to look at her, confused. She didn’t even notice their smirks and giggles because the pig continued to speak:
“Gabby, you may get a whole liberal education simply by picking up one unconventional poem and following its archetypes as they stretch out into the rest of literature,” it stated, now attempting to wriggle out of the plastic bag.
Gabby took a step back, and then felt her hands grow sweaty and her knees wobbly and weak. Her vision blurred and her speech became slurred. The pig eyed her intently as her body weakened and fell to the floor, her head smashing against a hard pipe below the hand sink. And then – darkness.
She awoke in the darkness. She awoke in the damp, cold darkness; the darkness of a cave. She groped around frantically, but there was nothing for her to hold onto; no walls - just the hard ground below her. Her head turned desperately in every which way, attempting to find a light, a light to escape from her blindness.
Just as she began to lose all hope and felt the tears welling in her eyes, she looked up straight in front of her. A light bulb. What? She thought to herself. A light bulb has randomly turned on in…a cave? She shook her head in disbelief, but then realized this light bulb was her only hope – her escape from this terrible dark place.
With that she crawled toward this light bulb, desperate to reach it, to see what it meant – to be freed. The rocks ripped and tore the flesh of her hands and knees as she frantically crawled toward the light; she didn’t care. She had to reach the light no matter what. It was her ticket out of this dark place, a place where she had no future, no pleasure, no life.
When she approached the light bulb, she stood up, marveling at its beauty in the darkness; she could feel the warmth it let off and let it caress the tears from her saddened face. “This is why I’m here,” she whispered to herself, understanding it all a little more clearly now.
And suddenly, just as if her words had triggered it, Gabby stood in a field, a beautiful field full of golden flowers of every shape and size. Everything around her seemed to be surrounded by a celestial light, and all she could do was smile and marvel at the wonder that was before her. She was truly happy. She had left the darkness of the cave and had escaped the dull brazen world she had once lived. Where she stood now was where she wanted to be.
Suddenly, an older gentleman in rusted armor rode up to her on his…steed? It startled Gabby when he swiftly jumped off of the horse and fell straight to the ground, armor clanking and scraping against itself.
“My fair lady,” he began, attempting to pull himself from the ground as he groveled at her feet. His eager face looked up at her as she stood before him. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” He staggered to his feet, quickly took her hand and kissed it overzealously.
She giggled as he spoke the words, but allowed it. “Yes, you may,” she replied.
“Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May. And summer’s lease hath all to short a date…”
As he said the words, he meant the words. Anyone could see that having looked into his honest eyes. “But thy eternal summer shall not fade,” he continued, and then Gabby realized something. Through this poem, this piece of literature, these words that were once scribbled on a page, she would be immortalized; she would live forever.
As the man finished his sonnet, he looked upon her glowing face. She was awed.
“Come with me and be my love?” he asked softly, his gaze never leaving hers.
Gabby smiled and nodded, captivated by this passionate man who stood baring his heart and soul to her. Yes, he was a bit silly, but then again…he was true.
After the old knight and the fair maiden mounted their horse, they rode through the forest and into the sunset to live happily ever after in their house made of books. As they rode, the words of God filled their eager minds: “Poetry is indeed something divine. It is at once the center and circumference of knowledge; it is that which comprehends all science, and that to which all science must be referred. It is at the same time the root and blossom of all other systems of thought; it is that from which all spring, and that which adorns all; and that which, if blighted, denies the fruit and the seed, and withholds from the barren world the nourishment and the succession of the scions of the tree of life.”
“Gabby, Gabby, are you okay? Wake up, please wake up,” a voice said in the distance.
Her eyes fluttered open to see many young faces standing above her - faces of her fellow classmates. A future psychologist, an engineer, a future philosopher, a great mathematician; their faces looked downtrodden, as if something huge was missing from each of their lives, as if they were all incomplete.
“How long was I out?” Gabby asked, lifting her head to look around the room, ignoring the throbbing in her head.
“About thirty seconds,” someone replied.
She scoffed and then giggled at how absurd they sounded. “But I was in a cave, and there was this light bulb, and I followed it. And then I got to it and then suddenly I was in this beautiful field full of these golden flowers, and I met a knight who recited some Shakespeare to me…” she trailed off as the skeptics eyed her as if she was insane.
“Yeaah,” one of the students said, the future engineer. “I think you hit your head a little hard.”
Unphased, she smiled up at her classmates. “It’s okay,” she stated. “You guys don’t get it…and you probably never will.”
“Okay, so today we will begin our unit on the dissection of fetal pigs,” the balding science teacher said to his class of advanced biology students. “I know that some of you have applied for college already and that many of you are interested in the medical field – nursing, pre-med…”
He began listing off majors in science as Gabby eagerly looked to the back of the room where the fun would begin. She couldn’t wait to put on her nerdy goggles, the smelly plastic apron and the blue latex gloves to eviscerate the smelly dead animal which awaited her presence, scalpel in hand. Unable to wait to get to college to observe cadavers and take all of the required nursing courses, she had decided that the fetal pig was her chance – her chance to show her biology teacher what she was capable of – that she would someday make a great nurse. Maybe then he would consider writing her a letter of recommendation so that she could receive that hefty scholarship and have four years of nursing school paid for. Oh, if only…
“Alright, let’s get started,” he stated, motioning them to the back of the room. Gabby shot up out of her desk, immediately beginning to put on her gear. As soon as it was all on, she raced to the back table and began setting up the tray that would soon hold her dead pig – her future. Nervous anticipation grew within her as her science teacher began to pass around Bag o’ Pig to her fellow classmates, who did not look nearly as enthused as she did. She twiddled her thumbs, eyes darting around with excitement, as she watched the others grimace as they opened the bags that contained the unborn swine.
What a bunch of sissies, she thought to herself. Why were they incapable of just sucking it up and dissecting this damn pig? It wasn’t a daunting task, especially compared to things that she would have to endure as a registered nurse - oooh, which would be happening in the Spring of 2008 – of course she would graduate in as little as four years. She would not be like those losers who stayed in school for 10 years and never received a degree. She thought of one of her favorite touchstones from William Blake’s Proverbs of Heaven and Hell that kept her inspired – kept her on the right track: “If the fool would persist in his folly, he would become wise.” She was not the fool, and would strive, seek, find and never yield. Oh, nice reference to Tennyson, she thought to herself.
It was her time. Her science teacher approached her table with Pig-in-a-Bag – a quite grotesque Pig-in-a-Bag as a matter of fact, she thought as she eyed the contorted specimen, which was soaking in a dirty orange liquid. She wrinkled her nose as he threw it down upon the table; it gave a little bounce and then laid there flat – dead – static.
Suck it up, she thought to herself, knowing that what she would have to endure as a nurse would be far worse than that of a dead fetal pig. She apprehensively took the scissors and began to slice the top of the bag open as the smell of formaldehyde filled her nostrils – stung her eyes, burned her nose, dirtied her once-clean glove. She shut her eyes, gripped the table and tried to breathe evenly. After a moment, she opened them to find that the fetal pig was staring at her with serious eyes – eyes that meant business. To her disbelief, it then began to move its mouth to speak to her!
At this point, Gabby gasped and wondered why none of her other classmates had witnessed the pig move. Why weren’t they freaking out too?! As her eyes widened in terror, the pig spoke: “Gabby, you must know that all structures in words are partly rhetorical, and hence literary, and the notion of scientific or philosophical or verbal structure free of rhetorical elements is an illusion.”
“What the hell are you talking about?!” she shouted loudly at the pig who eyed her intently. The room became silent and all of her classmates turned to look at her, confused. She didn’t even notice their smirks and giggles because the pig continued to speak:
“Gabby, you may get a whole liberal education simply by picking up one unconventional poem and following its archetypes as they stretch out into the rest of literature,” it stated, now attempting to wriggle out of the plastic bag.
Gabby took a step back, and then felt her hands grow sweaty and her knees wobbly and weak. Her vision blurred and her speech became slurred. The pig eyed her intently as her body weakened and fell to the floor, her head smashing against a hard pipe below the hand sink. And then – darkness.
She awoke in the darkness. She awoke in the damp, cold darkness; the darkness of a cave. She groped around frantically, but there was nothing for her to hold onto; no walls - just the hard ground below her. Her head turned desperately in every which way, attempting to find a light, a light to escape from her blindness.
Just as she began to lose all hope and felt the tears welling in her eyes, she looked up straight in front of her. A light bulb. What? She thought to herself. A light bulb has randomly turned on in…a cave? She shook her head in disbelief, but then realized this light bulb was her only hope – her escape from this terrible dark place.
With that she crawled toward this light bulb, desperate to reach it, to see what it meant – to be freed. The rocks ripped and tore the flesh of her hands and knees as she frantically crawled toward the light; she didn’t care. She had to reach the light no matter what. It was her ticket out of this dark place, a place where she had no future, no pleasure, no life.
When she approached the light bulb, she stood up, marveling at its beauty in the darkness; she could feel the warmth it let off and let it caress the tears from her saddened face. “This is why I’m here,” she whispered to herself, understanding it all a little more clearly now.
And suddenly, just as if her words had triggered it, Gabby stood in a field, a beautiful field full of golden flowers of every shape and size. Everything around her seemed to be surrounded by a celestial light, and all she could do was smile and marvel at the wonder that was before her. She was truly happy. She had left the darkness of the cave and had escaped the dull brazen world she had once lived. Where she stood now was where she wanted to be.
Suddenly, an older gentleman in rusted armor rode up to her on his…steed? It startled Gabby when he swiftly jumped off of the horse and fell straight to the ground, armor clanking and scraping against itself.
“My fair lady,” he began, attempting to pull himself from the ground as he groveled at her feet. His eager face looked up at her as she stood before him. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” He staggered to his feet, quickly took her hand and kissed it overzealously.
She giggled as he spoke the words, but allowed it. “Yes, you may,” she replied.
“Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May. And summer’s lease hath all to short a date…”
As he said the words, he meant the words. Anyone could see that having looked into his honest eyes. “But thy eternal summer shall not fade,” he continued, and then Gabby realized something. Through this poem, this piece of literature, these words that were once scribbled on a page, she would be immortalized; she would live forever.
As the man finished his sonnet, he looked upon her glowing face. She was awed.
“Come with me and be my love?” he asked softly, his gaze never leaving hers.
Gabby smiled and nodded, captivated by this passionate man who stood baring his heart and soul to her. Yes, he was a bit silly, but then again…he was true.
After the old knight and the fair maiden mounted their horse, they rode through the forest and into the sunset to live happily ever after in their house made of books. As they rode, the words of God filled their eager minds: “Poetry is indeed something divine. It is at once the center and circumference of knowledge; it is that which comprehends all science, and that to which all science must be referred. It is at the same time the root and blossom of all other systems of thought; it is that from which all spring, and that which adorns all; and that which, if blighted, denies the fruit and the seed, and withholds from the barren world the nourishment and the succession of the scions of the tree of life.”
“Gabby, Gabby, are you okay? Wake up, please wake up,” a voice said in the distance.
Her eyes fluttered open to see many young faces standing above her - faces of her fellow classmates. A future psychologist, an engineer, a future philosopher, a great mathematician; their faces looked downtrodden, as if something huge was missing from each of their lives, as if they were all incomplete.
“How long was I out?” Gabby asked, lifting her head to look around the room, ignoring the throbbing in her head.
“About thirty seconds,” someone replied.
She scoffed and then giggled at how absurd they sounded. “But I was in a cave, and there was this light bulb, and I followed it. And then I got to it and then suddenly I was in this beautiful field full of these golden flowers, and I met a knight who recited some Shakespeare to me…” she trailed off as the skeptics eyed her as if she was insane.
“Yeaah,” one of the students said, the future engineer. “I think you hit your head a little hard.”
Unphased, she smiled up at her classmates. “It’s okay,” she stated. “You guys don’t get it…and you probably never will.”
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