What Kind Of Pig Do You Think I Am: My Precious & Priceless Isis Penny

Life has handed me a lot of nickels & dimes over the past 20 years. It’s kind of like those folks who consistently use those 25 cent & 50 cent words & want to make it seem like they know so much more than you. Holy rollers act that way; you can see it through their brief epileptic smiles or wisps of anger in their eyes.

For others, it’s their anal-retentiveness that does them in. it’s just life after all; something that pays you off so you can pay someone else off who has to pay someone else off in order to keep their skivvies on and credit crystal clear.

But lately, over the last five years, I’m starting to see more and more shiny brand new pennies falling out of the sky and landing smack atop my head. It doesn’t smart as much anymore. In fact, I’m getting used to little cloudbursts.

And then there are those beautiful little copper one cent coins that I find on the streets & sidewalks. Whenever that happens, I always say to myself a little old cliché: “See a penny, pick it up, all the day you’ll have good luck.” It never seems to work with nickels & dimes. Sometimes I repeat this phrase with quarters. It works rarely, but thankfully it always works with pennies.

I haven’t quite figured it out just yet. Anyway, these pennies seem to come from somewhere, but where the main source is, I just don’t know. And in a way, I really don’t want to know, because these pennies are magical & show up to me usually as gems, gems of the human ocean that some call life. The last several pennies I’ve had fall in my lap have been worth every minute, but moreover; priceless.

Gems of the human ocean are like that. Take my great friend Isis for example; she came along when I least expected her to; when no pennies fell on my head, when it was nothing but shit & hard times & she brightened my world to no end, even though at first we were miles apart both physically & personally. Once we straightened out our differences, everything changed for the betterment of our world. We solidified together as a team, one big, beautiful old soul blended into one.

Lately however, that beautiful shining Isis penny has gone dull, making me miserable because she is miserable over what once could have been, should have been, hasn’t been and yes; I know about the fate of the “Woulda-Coulda-Shoulda” syndrome. It does take its toll and makes you smoke like a chimney when you think of all of the endless possibilities.

But all of those “What if” questions belong in the trash heap, just like all of the nay-sayers who told me to spend my Isis penny. Still, I said no & ignored them. My Isis penny is priceless & sweet & kind & a whole lot of other great things too. More than enough times than I care to count, my Isis penny whispered, “Please, please, please spend me on somebody else or at least spend me on something else worthwhile.”

Still I say no. Because for me to spend my precious Isis penny would be like throwing away a lifetime of shiny happiness & beautiful wisdom & shameless madness. No, my Isis penny is right where it belongs, within the chamber of my heart. And no one can get inside, not even for a million Rupert The Bear trading stamps, Hello Kitty puppets, pictures posed with George Martin or Rutles pins.