Chicken Soup Gone Wild -- the new mega-series

I don't think I ever told you that I once had the big idea to come with a Chicken Soup for the Soul satire, a collection of demented tales mixing spirituality and debauchery. Well, that idea lasted all of about half a week. But Saturday's post, where I ranted about the co-founder of the series, inspired me to dig up this little gem, the only story I wrote for my tongue-in-cheek project.

Note to Mom and any future employers (ha!) (as if): THIS IS FICTION. It's probably the only piece of fiction I ever have written or ever will write. Though some parts are clearly rooted in reality. Seriously, I am not a pothead. You know my drug of choice is Guinness, Young's Chocolate Stout, or Moose Drool. Or Bailey's.

So here it is--my anti-Chicken Soup story:

"We Met in the House of (Fermented) Spirits"

Every once in a while you experience a special type of drunkenness, a buzz that expands your awareness and opens you to appreciate the perfection of everyone around you. If you’re lucky, you may cross paths with other souls vibrating at the same level of inebriation, recognizable by the alcohol-induced twinkle in their eyes. Those of us who are students of spirituality refer to that as “synchronicity.”

I could tell Ozzy was special by the way his aura lit up the bar. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

“Why, yes, thank you. Guinness for me, please,” I said, graciously accepting his offer. The universe is indeed abundant.

I watched him sip his Bud Light and observed a familiar sense of judgment arise from within. Remember, Linda, I said to myself, God is not thinking, “Ozzy certainly has shitty taste in beer.” And so I vowed to look at him through the eyes of the Almighty and forgave him for his pedestrian choice of beverage.

We engaged in some small talk and I was entranced by Ozzy’s delightful English accent. Then ego reared its ugly head and I began to question my self-worth. What would a guy with such an attractive verbal inflection possibly want with me? Fortunately I tapped into the goddess within and reminded myself that, yes, I deserve to be with a man who sounds like Ozzy.

“I don’t show these to just anyone, but I’d like you to take a look.” Ozzy said. He then presented me with a few pictures of the biggest, juiciest marijuana buds I’d ever seen.

“Wow!” I exclaimed. “Are these yours?”

He beamed with pride. “Yes, I’m growing them in my basement. I’ve been studying hydroponic gardening—I’m quite good at it.” Catching himself, he added, “Sorry, I don’t mean to brag.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “By all means, take ownership of your God-given talents.”

Of course, I know well enough to stay in the present moment, but when I saw the size of his illicit crop, I couldn’t help myself and immediately projected into the future. I envisioned cuddling together on the couch listening to the Grateful Dead, watching Animal Planet with the sound muted, sharing a bag of Cheetos. If he turns out to be my soulmate, I thought, I’ll never have to buy pot again. I silently thanked the universe for sending me this incredible connection.

“I’m going to submit these photos to High Times,” Ozzy told me.

“Good for you,” I said, impressed by his lofty ambition to submit to such a prestigious national publication. Though I doubted High Times would accept unsolicited Poloroids, I suppressed my skepticism—never try to crush a person’s aspirations with your own limited thinking.

Fast forward in time and, well . . . life doesn’t always unfold the way you think it’s going to. You enter a relationship believing your beloved is a mellow toker and he turns out to be an intolerable sot. I don’t think Ozzy intentionally led me to believe he was more of a stoner than the boozer he turned out to be.

And so I learned that first impressions are sometimes wrong; you see what you want to see. And to be fair, maybe I didn’t exactly present my authentic self either—between my dyed hair, contact lenses, artificially whitened teeth and perky cleavage courtesy of Victoria Secret’s bra technology. Perhaps the lesson is, the Law of Attraction works both ways.

And the universe always unfolds in divine order.