Stranger Things Have Happened

Humor, Satire, Parable, Entertainment, Religious, Short Story, Narrative

Reverend Cassius swiftly wiped the sweat from his forehead and slowly brought his sermon to a close.

“Now, 'how doth a man rob Gawd' scripture asks-uh. 'Through his tithes...and offerings-uh.”

“Amen!” a member of the congregation chimed in.

“ Turn your Bible's to Leviticus chapter twenty-seven, verse thirty two.” As instructed the congregation of New Mount Zion Ebeneezer Baptist Church flipped through the pages of their Bibles until the sound of old worn paper being balled up and discard had ceased.

“The Lawd�"stay with me now church�"tells his people here that a tenth of the herd, the livestock, or whatever passeth under the rod, is Holy unto the Lawd! With that said, let's get the plate going around again 'cause I feel the spirit in this place this Sunday morning!”

Reverend Cassius was a tall, slightly overweight guy. Not heavy enough to tip any scales, but definitely heavy enough to have to stare at a belly that covered the main vein when he went to the pisser. He often smiled when he preached ,and flaunted the gold tooth that matched the cross hanging from his neck.

“This means that you as Christians are obligated, commanded, to give AT LEAST ten percent-uh! Most people don't give because they claim they don't have it, but I'm telling you when the praises and tithes go up, the blessings rain down. So give! Give the church, the storage house, Gawd's house what you owe! Let the church say Amen,” he said before the congregation immediately did as it was commanded.

“Amen,” they said in unison. While the collection plate made its way down the pews of New Mount Zion Ebeneezer Baptist Church, the polished silver at the bottom of the bowl began to disappear and a mound of green paper began to take its place. The plate was passed to Garry, from Mrs. Peterson who had won best dressed that quarter. He marveled at how much money had been collected before dropping the $1.50 his mother had given him that morning into the silver bowl and passed it on. The midsummer's heat coupled with the church's malfunctioning air conditioning unit made it stuffy inside, and the bounty of bodies didn't help the smell. Garry needed fresh air, and since his tithes were paid and he now qualified to receive his blessings, he thought himself excused.

Our hero wasn't exactly excited about his role in the play he was to be in after the service. Partially because his mother had volunteered him, but mostly because none of the guys in church plays got play from the local girls by sloppily reciting bible verses. Regardless he had to know everything sister Steele, his Sunday school teacher, thought some Roman soldier told Jesus when they took him off of the cross. What would a man who just beat Christ half way to hell have to say to him? 'Hey JC, um, I know we just beat you to a bloody pulp but, could you autograph these sandals? Make it out to Rufus.' The play was to begin at four that afternoon, but Reverend Cassius was known to talk. The congregation could very well be sitting in those pews the entire day. Garry’s lines were memorized and ready to be delivered with enough zeal to cause someone to catch the Spirit. There was only one problem; his costume was at home. He could start the walk back home, but it was too far to travel by foot thanks to the beaming sun. By the time he'd arrive home he would need a shower and a fresh change of clothes only to drench his clean digs in sweat on the way back. The second option would be the bus. It'd spare him some time and an earful of *** from his mother. All he had to do to get to the bus stop was walk through Camden Park.

Camden Park was a nice neighborhood�"quiet with a wonderful array of houses, beautiful houses. Every home looked to be about as expensive as a tank of gas, and the grass was an intense green on both sides of each fence. If there was one negative aspect to his otherwise perfect community, it was the yard dog in the yard of every other house. Garry loved animals�"well, if loving animals meant watching the Animal Planet channel every Saturday constituted love. There was only one problem with Camden Park; it was a white neighborhood and he had heard that Randall Peacock �"a black kid�"was caught talking to a white girl got thrown off of his bike and jumped by a group of white boys. And they stomped him something vicious. All this in mind Garry began his trek to the bus stop with a branch that had fallen from a nearby tree in hand; just in case.

The streets of Cmden Park were quiet and empty, but were still probably as dangerous as they looked safe. Marching up Raintree St., Garry's anxiety about not getting caught slipping were interrupted by what sounded like a crowd of kids in a screaming contest. A few mailboxes later, he discovered the cause of all the commotion. A group of boys from Oak Hill, the rival high school, were taking turns stomping a hole in a skinny white boy who didn't even make an attempt to defend himself. Either he didn't mind the makeover they were to give his face or he was beaten so severely that he didn't have the wherewithal to fight back.

“You better not get up f****t,” one of the boys screamed while he kicked his fellow man in the face, adding yet another gash to his face.

“You f****n' queers make me sick! I swear if I see you on this side of town again we're gonna kill you!”

Those were pretty harsh words that were delivered with a level of sincerity that kept Garry on his path and away from anything that could lead him from also getting a hole stomped in his face. He pitied the kid though. Garry hadn't met many gay people in Huntsville, but that was probably because they weren't open with their orientation for fear of this very thing�"a nice big can of grade A whoop a*s. As far as Garry was concerned, the queer had it coming to him. Gay people, where did they come from anyway? Hopefully their sickness wouldn't rub off on anyone he knew, or worse, him. Garry knew how inhumane the slaughter of a single man was by five guys was, and had the victim not been swapping spit with some Joe Schmoe who surely had gotten whooped for being gay himself, he would have helped him. But Garry wasn't gay and neither were his friends. This wasn't his battle and the poor lad would have to learn another route to where he was going or become real familiar with the bottom of somebody's size seven sneakers.

The human conscience is an interesting thing. Totally silent when dealing with something pleasurable, it always popped up when it was least welcome. Feeling he had an obligation to keep this guy from dying right there on the curb of some ignorant neighborhood, Garry stopped, gripped his stick like the baseball bat he and his brother had become accustomed to during baseball season, and backtracked three houses in order to be save the day. When the boys noticed Garry approaching�"weapon in hand�" to participate in the festivities on the side of their nemesis, they had scattered faster than roaches who've had the light switch turned on. The battered boy lay there, motionless and in a pool of his own blood.

“Hey uh, you okay buddy,” he asked. The boy struggled to pull himself together and form an audible word. This was understandable since three of his teeth were on the concrete instead of his mouth.

“Great,” Garry said to himself. “Look man, if we're gonna get you outa here I gotta know where your going.” The boy remained there, seemingly sobbing something serious. Guilt forced our hero to calm his new comrade's nerves, stop him from crying, and helped him to his feet. He didn't know the kid well enough to take him home with him, but surely someone at the church would know what to do with this limp body. Garry threw the boy's arm over his own shoulder and began carrying him back down Raintree, towards the church. Then he would be someone else's problem.

“What's your name kid,” Garry asked as the two walked back down the deserted street. He didn't care what the answer was, but conversation would keep the kid conscious and aware.

“Maddox,” the boy said in a voice that sounded like the puberty fairy was still due for a visit.

“Well Maddox, you do know that if you stopped kissing men you wouldn't have this problem anymore.” With a look of disgust on his face, Maddox replied,

“Well who ever you are, I'm sure you wouldn't have to worry about carrying a stick with you if you weren't black.” Was this guy crazy? Here he was with his nose damn near hanging off of his face and he was making black jokes.

“Since you're such a comedian why don't you carry your own heavy a*s to where you need to go then,” Gary shot back.

“You and me ain't so different ya know. I'm a regular guy...”

“No, you're a f****t. We aren't the same at all,” Garry interrupted.

“What if I called you a n****r,” the boy sincerely asked.

“Then you'd get your a*s whipped some more!”

“Well don't call me that. Its offensive.”

“What? Just stop being gay kid,” Garry suggested.

“Well when you stop being black I'll stop being a proud homosexual.”

The request was fair enough, and the closer the two got to the church, the more strength the boy gained.

“Touche sir,” Garry replied. “Um, you watch baseball?” The boy smiled, briefly, and asnwered,

“Does a bear s**t in the woods?”

The two engaged in a conversation that would prove their similarities. By the time they made it to the church, they had talked sports, girls, guys, and everything else that would interest two high school kids. No longer strangers, no longer polar opposites, they entered the church�"together.

Author's Note

Good or bad let me know what you think. All criticisms are welcome, as long as they are constructive. Thanks for Reading!

Reviews

[Mathias Winters]

I like it. I lost interest halfway through the story, and kind of skipped over some stuff in order to get to the point of the story though. The halfway point could use some work. Otherwise the story is nice and the morals are as well developed.