I do not know where Stephen King first heard of the word Langoliers, but I was astonished to come across it in a book at the library (Enfin by Aquinas cir; 1270).

Go ahead fools rub your hands together, grind your teeth, and get on your knees and pray to our Saints. We Langoliers have control of your treasury, your military, and your lives. And whenever it suits our purpose, we'll use anarchy to make that little mind of yours come rushing to us to find ease and safety. It's both sardonic and riotous to watch you file into the very buildings on Sunday, to learn about the plans we've made for managing you, throughout the week. Our Prince said that not only would you come bearing gifts, you'd give us your minds, bodies and souls to do with as we pleased. Even after years of understanding, I still find it thorny at times to look at you with compassion instead of scorn as you bow and kiss my hand after I have enjoyed your children as I pleased right under your dirty noses.

The only thing I find astonishing about this is that after 700 years the only thing that's changed is that most Christians bathe more often than their ancestors. The Prince, whoever the hell he might have been or is, might be in control of these creatures, but I choose to believe they are just weak-minded monkeys that just never fully evolved. It seems that they did evolve to the degree that instead of having sex with others in front of their mates, they do as John Edwards and Larry Craig did and slip off to hotels and/or public bathroom stalls.

Please, those of you who do not like the pain and suffering these deformed hypocrites have caused you, but don't want to offend them, just stick your heads back in the sand. It's difficult enough to deal with the hypocrites without your weak ass getting in the way. The truth be known, you deserve to be smothered to death in religious poop. Being caught between Christian nuts and damn invertebrates is like the old proverbial rock and a hard place.

B.W. Miller