Choices
The Smell of Garlic It all started with garlic. Personally I wouldn’t even consider a potential spouse if they didn’t like garlic. I think anyone that doesn’t like garlic is a little sick in the head. Fortunately my wife and I share the same passion for it. So when we were doing the usual grocery shopping and she saw that the store had massive crates of garlic on sale cheap we were excited. As we talked about what we might make with it we both grabbed several handfuls and stuffed them into those little plastic bags they have in the produce department. I mentioned making a forty clove chicken and she told me she had never had one; the choice being made, we finished our shopping and headed home. Forty clove chicken doesn’t literally use 40 cloves of garlic, it just uses a lot of it, enough to surround the bird in the roasting pan, and a few to go inside it. In the long baking process something magical happens to the garlic, it loses its sharp taste and acquires a mellower, softer taste. So an hour and a half later it came out of the oven, the smell of garlic and butter was divine. We had enough for supper that night and lunch the next day. Being the culinary folks we are, we decided to keep the remaining bones and make some chicken stock, which we did and then poured into canning jars for future use. All the bones and remaining excess fat along with the rest of the garlic bits and husks now were put into the trash can, the forty clove chicken a success. We had to leave the house for a while, I forget why, but it wasn’t for long, that’s when everything started to go wrong. I get immeasurable pleasure from insulting my wife’s dog, fatty; she’s a cross between a dachshund and a hippopotamus, the result being a dachsupotamus. I love telling people how she is so fat she has an area code stamped on her butt and how I can stick a flashlight in her mouth and her eyes light up because her head is empty. I could easily get carried away right now but I need to be serious here and stick to my point, which is, the dog has only a primitive stump for a brain which only seeks food. She will eat anything that can’t get away, regardless of how disgusting it is. At times this is a useful characteristic, like when we’re cleaning house. We have two vacuum cleaners but don’t need them, they’re rarely used. Fatty is an automatic roving vacuum cleaner, air and anything that can be sucked up are continuously going in one end, the solid matter is trapped through a series of internal filters, and air is discharged through the other end. This process is automatic and ongoing. Sometimes it’s not such a good thing though. At some point while we were out, we remembered that we forgot to take the trash out and cringed at what must have been happening at home at the moment. When we got home our fears were confirmed, trash was all over the floor, all the trash except for the chicken bones that is. The other dogs had alibis and I didn’t need to ask questions anyway since fatty was slinking around, fatter, grease on her face and smelling like garlic. If you know about dogs you’ll know about dogs and bird bones… they don’t go well together. After being cleaned up and scolded thoroughly she was set free, the worst of it was yet to come for us. For the next two days fatty was throwing up masses of bones smelling like rotten garlic. Garlic came from both ends of her night and day. My wife always puts fatty in bed with us, the warmth against her back feels good and soothes her arthritis. It usually isn’t a problem, she burrows down into the blanket and doesn’t move for the rest of the night unless food is involved. Now it was a problem, Our room smelled like rotten garlic, if the blankets were moved and the air disturbed it was intolerable. Half asleep, I heard a thud, the sound of fatty jumping off the bed, I knew this meant one of two things, either her primitive brain stump sensed food or she was throwing up. I turned the light on just in time to see her with her butt sticking out from under our dressed and making sounds I can’t describe and don’t want to try and describe. Now fully awake, the whole effect hit us, The smell of garlic was gagging both of us, we cleaned up the mess, sprayed at least a whole can of air freshener around and turned desperately took a few other measures that we thought might help. My kids came in the next day, each assailed by the malodorous mongrel and each almost chocked by it all. This went on for at least two days until her system was once again its usual repugnant self. Had it been up to me, she would have spent the last two days in a pet carrier on the porch in the below freezing weather. I had also considered throwing her into the nearest river but the thought of all that pollution and the effect on wildlife ruled it out. I don’t after all know what effect concentrated garlic will have on fish. It was sometime around then that an atheist was whining to me about if God was real why He didn’t just accept everybody instead of being cruel and sending people to hell. Just as I don’t want piles of rotten vomited up garlic and bones in my house, He doesn’t want sin in His house. Dog puke is repulsive to me, sin is repulsive to Him. It’s His house, His kingdom, His creation, it seems sensible to me that He can say what He will and won’t tolerate. Maybe I’m missing something here but it seems to me that even an atheist should understand that concept. But then atheists don’t want to understand, they want to argue. Anyone that really wants to know God will know Him, He isn’t distant or aloof. He just wants His kids to be clean before they come into the house. Is that so unreasonable or hard to grasp? I guess it is for some people. He even provided the bath, the soap, the clean clothes, and house shoes. All we have to do is accept it and stay clean. If we do get dirty again, the bath, soap, and clothes will be there waiting. Dirty kids are repulsive, kids that like to wallow in filth are worse. Sin is repulsive, our attitude towards it is worse. Every child falls into a mud puddle sometimes, it happens. The important thing is whether that child wants to be clean or filthy. The house belongs to the parent, the parent has the right to determine what they will and won’t allow in the house, the kids don’t make that choice, if they did one can imagine what a mess that house would be. It’s a simple choice, be clean and go home or be dirty and stay outside. The analogy stops here. In reality there won’t BE an outside, there won’t be a hell full of evil people having a big party, doing whatever they want and having fun. Hell will be…. Well, hellish, not a place anyone will want to be. Atheists can complain all they want, it won’t matter. It’s God’s creation and He won’t tolerate sin, plain and simple. But He also provides the means to be clean; we have to just take the bath. Besides I can’t get rid of fatty, aside from my wife never forgiving me, I have an idea. With a few cases of silver spray paint, a few tanks of helium, some old Christmas lights and a blueprint of the Goodyear blimp I figure I can float her (the dog not my wife) around town and make a few extra bucks selling ad space. I don’t know that I will be able to make a forty clove chicken for several years to come.
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