The story opened like this:
Pro-abortion activists are planning protests in churches on Mother’s Day and are preparing visits to Supreme Court justices’ homes next week to express anger over an anticipated ruling overturning legalized abortion.
The group of hersterics call themselves “Ruth Sent Us”. They’ve promised to mount their brooms and “protest inside a Catholic Church on Sunday.” They encouraged others to do likewise around the country.
“Whether you’re a ‘Catholic for Choice,’ ex-Catholic, of other or no faith, recognize that six extremist Catholics set out to overturn Roe,” the group said on Twitter. “Stand at or in a local Catholic Church on Sun May 8. #WarOnWomen #MothersDayStrike.”
Maybe you like me read the Feds put up an “unscalable” fence around SCOTUS, to protect those inside from the ravening mob.
Maybe the feds saw this tweet?
— America's Conscience (@saveusculture) May 5, 2022
While contemplating these curious things, I went into what they call a trance. I had this vision.
I awoke to find myself in a pew in a small church. I didn’t recognize it. It was Mother’s Day. The priest was just finishing St Michael’s prayer. There were not many parishioners, and the few that were there were beginning to file out as the priest and acolyte marched off.
A man sat unmoving on the aisle. His eyes were closed. He was wearing what looked like work clothes, and I had the idea he had just came from his labors. At first I thought he had dozed off, but then I could see his lips move in what I took to be silent prayer.
Suddenly, two women came in the back door. One short and fat, thirty of so, one scrawny and average, maybe forty. They wore red robes and white head coverings. And masks. The fat one sported those pointy angry glasses some women like. Blue hair emerged from her white cap.
The women advanced a pace or two. Then screamed.
This caught the man’s attention. He looked at the pair and considered them. His gaze was brief. He turned and closed his eyes again.
The two women walked a couple more steps forward. They screamed again.
The man said, “You ladies lost?”
“Don’t call us ladies!” screamed the fat one. The thin one said nothing, but she was clearly in a rage and shaking.
“Suit yourself.” The man eased back, folded his arms and closed his eyes again.
The church had emptied by then, except for those three, and me. I was not noticed.
The man’s indifference evidently confused the women. The thin one said something to the fat one I couldn’t hear, but I saw Scrawny nod. They paused for a moment, took another step forward, braced themselves, and this time let loose a loud piercing scream that lasted and lasted.
The man shook his head and sighed, stood up, and said, “Something I can help you ladies with?”
“We’re not ladies!” shouted Glasses.
“Ruth sent us!” screamed Scrawny.
The man asked, “Ruth?”
“Ruth Bader Ginsberg!” shouted Scrawny. “She sent us here!” And she screamed again. But only a short one.
“Given where Ruth likely is, that explains a lot,” said Working Man.
“What?” Scrawny was clearly the spokeswoman for the pair.
“Never mind. You ladies need something, or are you just going to stand there and scream?”
“We’re not ladies!” Glasses was working from a limited script.
“You can’t force us to give birth!” Scrawny said.
Working Man considered this. “You’re not my type,” he said.
This angered the screamers. Scrawny said, “What do you mean?”
“You do know how babies are made, don’t you?”
“We would never have sex with you!” screamed Glasses.
“There’s where we eternally agree,” said Working Man.
Strangely, this irritated Glasses and she screamed again.
“You can’t make me have a baby!” repeated Scrawny.
“Look lady. It’s not going to happen. I’ve no interest in marrying either of you.”
“You don’t have to be married to have sex!” shouted Scrawny.
Working Man smiled. “So you do know how babies are made.”
Glasses stormed off and stood in front of a statue of Virgin Mary. She screamed at it and went silent, but stayed glowering at the statue.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Scrawny was ignoring Glasses.
“Since you know how babies are made, you must know how not to make one.”
“I knew it! You want to force me to give birth! You’re a birth forcer! I have a right to abort any pregnancy! You can’t take that right away!”
“Sounds like you’re saying you have the right to have sex any time you want. And the right to abort the consequences. That about cover it?”
“You’re a typical male. You have no idea what it’s like to be a woman and face the danger of being pregnant.”
“I see. So your real problem is you don’t like the consequences of being a woman.”
“It’s not fair when men have none of the burden and dangers of child birth.”
“Fair’s got nothing to do with it.”
At this moment, Glasses screamed again, and spit on the statue. This distracted Scrawny. The break gave Working Man an opportunity to look Scrawny up and down.
“You know, you wouldn’t look half bad if you got some meat on you. I bet you could even make yourself pretty. Let’s maybe you and I go out and grab a bite.”
Then something strange happened. Scrawny relaxed. She might have formed the ghost of a smile. I couldn’t see too clear because I had a bad angle. But before Scrawny could say anything, Glasses screamed “No!” and ran over to the couple. Glasses Grabbed Scrawny’s arm and hissed, “We have to get out of here! Now!”
Glasses started to pull Scrawny away. She allowed herself to be pulled away, but reluctantly. She kept looking back at Working Man. He stood with his arms crossed watching the pair.
Just as the women passed by me in the last pew, Working Man started to say something.
I didn’t hear what. My vision abruptly ended and I found myself back on Twitter reading more odd headlines.
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