Show Me The Way Home

This is how I occupied my one hour ride home from work yesterday, really, this is true.

Show Me The Way Home

There is a great overseer that follows me home everyday, as I return from the tribulations of the workweek and long for the comfort of my wife and family. The overseer is big, powerful and all-knowing. I know its there, always, even when I don’t look at it. Some say you should not look directly at it, for you may veer from your path, others say you must always look to it, for it will surely guide you home. Me, I must confess, I have not strayed from my path in years, and so I do not often look to it for guidance. I don’t mean to be arrogant, but I find that I can get home well enough without it. Today, however, this great, black (oh yes, its black!) overseer was trying to tell me something directly. The great big, all-knowing, black electric traffic board was trying to get through to me, and me only. A cryptic message, indeed, meant only for me. When it speaks to the masses, it usually spews rhetoric that the masses will surely follow, “Don’t Drink and Drive,” “Fasten Your Seatbelts,” “Got Milk!”, and other tenets of pedestrian religion, meant for unassuming consumption. But today it flickered persistently, to get my singular attention, and said:

"***********ORE************"

Dear Lord, what are you trying to tell me? Am I worthy of your singular attention? Perhaps if I had watched the signs more closely I would now know where you lead me. What should I prepare for? Well, lets think:


“Stop! No MORE road ahead!” Can it be trying to save only me? I am not worthy.

“Votes re-counted, GORE President!” Dear Lord, please warn us all! Why just me?

“Speed Up, OREO Truck spilled load!” Thank you Lord, I will get there first.

“Detour, ORENTHAL JAMES Ahead!” Phew, that could have been a close one.

“Pull Over and Cry, KOREA Men’s Hockey Team Win Olympic Gold.” Dear God, just kill me now, well, right after the OREOS.

“Guy Next to You TORE a Hole in His Pants!” Thank explains why he’s looking down and swerving.

“Stop by STORE to get milk!” Now I know my wife can control everything!

“The Cold SORE will go away, give it time.” What cold sore? What do you know that I don’t know? I’m sorry, everything, that’s right.

“BOREDOM kills!” Please, let me at least make it home, my wife will be very upset if she doesn’t get the milk.

Thank You Lord, the lights are flickering back on. You’re not black after all, you’re Vannah White:

“L*******ORE****PA**”
“L****E*ORE*Y**PA**”
“L**K*BE*ORE*Y*U*PA**”
“L*OK*BE*ORE*YOU*PA*S”

LOOK*BEFORE*YOU*PASS! I win, I yell to myself, as I nearly change lanes into the path of an oncoming OREO Truck – Get Milk! Thank God I’ll remember to get milk. Sorry Lord, but you know, Hell Hath No Furry…