The Big Bang (Part 3)

"This, I thought, is crazy. If true, it is evil. But surely it is too crazy; it implies too gross a violation of ordinary human behavior, to be true. If it was true, there was something totalitarian there, something like the atmosphere of a Stalinist show-trial, the demand that privacy and dignity be ripped away to appease,...apparent emotional derangement,.."

- Hal G.P. Colebatch, in The Spectator, commenting on the public displays of emotional blackmail during Princess Diana's death.

(I'm only using the quote, above, as a launching-off point because it captures, perfectly, what I thought about the occult - and the behavior of it's practitioners - as I slowly discovered the metaphysical underpinnings of my wife, Karine Anne Brunck, being taken advantage of by Robert Wohlfahrt, Wissimbourg, France's homeopathic village quack who had just euthanized her mother, less than a month before:)

[Continued From The Big Bang (Part Two):]

"You What!?!"

Stunned, I ran over to where Karine was sitting, and looked right into her eyes.

"You've been fucking another guy?"

"Yes", she said defiantly, "I did it."

"I did it." Like committing adultery was something I'd kept her from all those years. She had come off a relationship with a married man when I first met her, and now, she had come full-circle: Cheating was what she liked to do - cheating on me, the married man's wife and kids, the people she claimed to "heal" with Reiki - everybody: Her only sense of personal power came from the use of sex, and the lies she could spin over others.

These mounting issues proved way too much and something finally gave out. I crumpled to the ground, crying like a baby at Karine's feet. My nervous system started to overload, roiling over me in fits, forcing me into a ball that I could only try to force myself out of. I was holding my stomach. I was screaming. The sounds were inhuman.

The whole scene was inhuman: I'm a foster child, from known gang territory. I've got no real "family" to speak of - Karine was it - and she knew it. And though she, and her family, had shown themselves to be cruel masters in the past (calling me a "nigger" behind my back; once locking me in the house alone, in France, for 11 hours while they all went out skiing and drinking) it was nothing compared to a life in foster care, where I'd been shot at, stabbed in the back, knocked out in fights, and almost killed more times than I can count. My life had been tough under the best of circumstances - to put it mildly - so crying wasn't something I did often. It was something I usually wasn't capable of, unless under extreme duress, but this was proving even more devastating than any physical challenge I'd ever encountered: this was an emotional ambush, coming at me from just inside my only zone of trust, and I had no idea how or why it was happening.

My emotions were running to extremes too fast - rage, alternating with hopelessness, confusion, and concern. I felt I was now becoming unhinged; my thoughts and feelings being stretched too far. Karine got up and went back into the bedroom. Her work here was done.

"No, no, no, no, no!", I screamed, as my coping mechanism exploded and it's parts ricocheted; the pressure of helplessness creating sparks in my head.

Karine was calling the police.

"Hello, police? I need someone to come over, right now, there's a black man in my house who won't leave."

"What?" I ran to the bedroom with tears running down my face, shocked, my mouth hanging open.

"Yes - no, I'm O.K., nothing's happened - I just want him out of here and he won't leave."

"I'm her husband!" I shouted, sarcastically, as she clicked the phone off and glared at me in triumph.

"They're on their way."

I couldn't believe it. "You are a nazi.", I yelled. "You're a motherfuckin' nazi! All these years, we've been living together, and you now tell the police 'There's a black man in my house'? Jesus Christ! I get it now: There are nazi's in your village - I was attacked by some - and you knew it! You're a motherfuckin' nazi!"

I could hear the sirens approaching from the police station a few blocks away. I was stuck. Shit. With me in the state I was in, they'd surely haul me away - just for being black and upset - while Eva Braun was cool as a cucumber. Quickly, I tried to compose myself as well, wiping away my tears and returning to sit in the living room. Still, I steeled myself for handcuffs and a trip to jail.

But the cops just came and went. This was San Francisco. Our tales of cults, adultery, and hysterics - lacking an act of violence - couldn't faze Haight/Ashbury authorities in the least. They'd seen it all. Once they were assured I was her husband, I lived there, and nobody was going to be killed, they left. Just like that. I even think they felt for me.

Now Karine was shaken. Calling the cops was, obviously, her ace-in-the-hole; putting me in jail was clearly supposed to end the whole fiasco I was still thinking of as a marriage and allow her an unimpeded opening to head to France. Now it was she who was stuck - and with a seriously troubled newly-"black" husband who, finally, saw her in her entirety:

Karine Anne Brunck is a cultist, a serial-adulterer, a racist, and a liar. She's a "New Ager". A person who knows no bottom, and is more than willing to prove it, using the twisted, relativistic, logic of the occult.

And we were alone again.

To be continued by: