‘A’ is for Abraxas, ‘B’ is for bullshit

Bryce had been telling us over sushi he’d do it with poultry his magic I mean and in the back of my head I kept zoning out, much to Cybill’s chagrin, because all I could think of was that zombie movie with Bill Pullman even though there’s like an ocean in-between the two crafts and I was probably just taking the easier way and allowing in stereotypes anyhow, preconceptions and prejudices. But suppose I go Buddhist, but to follow a fat deity? And I’m certainly not going Catholic only to molest little kids.
But see, there’s Bryce droning on and on of his craft and strange madcap rituals with chicken and all of a sudden my Bill Pullman figment phases out to this funny syndicated newspaper strip I must’ve read back in the mid-1990s I think it was Dilbert nononono, not that, it was from a Robotman strip, you know years before they made away with the Robotman and the strip was renamed Monty? And on that specific strip, memory hazes a bit right now sorry if I veer off somewhat from its actual content, but the Robotman was kind of chastising Monty on all the McNuggets he would eat and that some day the spirits of all the chicken slain would come back to haunt him? The sheer definition of Karma.
That’s the joke I was to tell Bryce but Cybill would probably throttle me because she’s sort of partial to Bryce after he gave her his old iPad before she went on PTO to South Africa so she could post the usual stuff on Facebook.

But point is Bryce does it with poultry and seashells, Jimmy does it by listening to old black men, long since departed, Cybill herself has a bracelet with Nazar charms dangling from it, allegedly to fend off the evil-eye, and her mother gave me this little medal of some Saint so I could keep it in my wallet because it’s supposed to be blessed or something and I’ve since had it misplaced, naturally unintentionally but that’s Magic for you.