Buddha Baby Read Online Free PDF

for her: she was the child of the devil, and her true mother was a jackal.
    Her fate, hell, was the end of the line. Hell smelled like newly tarred roofs and charbroiled rats. Up in heaven there would be parties, but St. Joseph would be too busy refilling his champagne flute with Veuve Clicquot to offer Lindsey a drop of water on her bloated, canker-sore-ridden excuse for a tongue.
    Being non-Catholic and Chinese,
and
born on the same date as Mia Farrow's devil-child, Lindsey knew deep down inside that no matter how many good deeds she performed, she would end up in the Amityville Red Room with history's villains: Judas Iscariot, Adolf Hitler, and Yosemite Sam. God was a take-no-prisoners kinda guy. After all, look at the way he put the smackdown on Adam and Eve for sampling a measly apple.
    Either one or both of her parents were obviously in cahoots with Satan. So with nowhere else to turn, Lindsey prayed to Mary. She implored the Virgin Mother that no one would ask her birthdate, and she begged for a grace period so she could figure out what to do. How much time would she need? Well, at least a few months, or until her real parents, Gomez and Morticia Addams, came to fetch her in their tricked-out hearse.
    She prayed for weeks, but several Sundays later, another afternoon movie scared the bejeezus out of her. This time it was
The Exorcist
. She wondered why her parents let her watch such a movie, but then figured they were tipping her off about her evil core. Before bedtime she began checking her abdomen for raised welts that spelled "Help me," and if she had to pee in the middle of the night, she turned on all the lights and avoided mirrors so as not to see her own reflection, which was sure to resemble a guacamole-encrusted Linda Blair.
    Lindsey suspected she would only have a few short years before her number came up. She had heard that puberty was a time when bodies changed and mysterious things called "hormones" kicked in. No doubt that's when her true evil self would begin to show. It made sense. Birds molted and developed adult feathers. Deer dropped their antlers, caterpillars became butterflies, and Lindsey would sprout horns and a pointy goatee. She begged Mary to make everything okay.
    Soon after, she saw
The Omen
and began to check her scalp daily for the telltale
666
. For weeks she ran home from school and sat on the bathroom countertop with her stocking feet in the sink. Using her mother's handheld compact and the medicine cabinet mirror, she checked the back of her head, crown, and behind her ears for the mark of the beast. She also searched for the nubby horns she dreaded would protrude any day now, just like the back molars inside her mouth. She found nothing on her entire head except one single chin hair that convinced her that a goatee was beginning to sprout. To delay the inevitable, she plucked it with tweezers.
    Back at school, Sister Constance made another confident proclamation about the preferences of Mary. She decreed that the Memorare and the Act of Contrition were the Virgin Mother's favorite prayers. Lindsey wondered if inside the convent there was a blue telephone that directly linked communications between the nuns and Mary. If the mayor of Gotham could give Batman a jingle any ol' time on the Bat Phone, was it really that far-fetched that there might be a Nun Phone with which Sister Constance could ring up the Mother of God at all hours and ask her personal trivia? When she wasn't pondering such possibilities, Lindsey devoted many diligent hours to the memorization and recitation of these two prayers, and whispered them to herself several times a day for weeks, months, and then years.
    In addition, every morning Lindsey paused for a few moments in front of this same corridor painting, stopping to offer up a desperate plea for help to the Holy Mother. As time passed and her horns and goatee never did develop, she knew that someone had taken pity on her.
    Good OP Mary. She was all about