For two days Johnny Larson had seen the man standing on the street corner by his school - even during lunch the man had been there. The first day Johnny thought nothing about it; now, he noticed that at the man’s feet sat two medium-sized boxes. He couldn’t remember if the man had had the boxes the day before, but seeing them today aroused his curiosity.
Johnny Larson was twelve years old and in Junior high school. Everyday his parents made it a point to tell him about the dangers of using drugs. They also told him about drug pushers who prey on children his age; thus, seeing this man in front of his school made curious.
Getting on the school bus, Johnny saw that the man was still there. When the bus reached his stop, he hurriedly got off, ran into the garage, dropped his books on the floor, grabbed his bike and took off.
Peddling as fast as he could, Johnny stopped about a half block from where the man was standing, parked the bike, and sat down on the curb to watch. People were lined up to receive small green packages the man was handing out. Johnny watched for a while; then he jumped on his bike and raced home.
Jan Larson had seen her son speeding away from the house, and she was slightly irritated that he’d not bothered to come in first before going off. Now, as he came into the house, she was all ready to scold him until she saw the look on his face. “Mom, Dad!” Johnnie called excitedly.
“I’m here,” said Mrs. Larson.
“Where’s dad?” He questioned.
“He’s upstairs son. What’s wrong?”
Just then Mr. Larson came down the stairs. He was about to say something to his son, but the boy, anxious and excited, cut him off with,
“Dad, there’s a man standing on the corner by the school, and he’s been there for two days. At first I didn’t notice the two boxes he had. He was there at lunch and again this afternoon when the bus came. So after school I decided to go back and watch him. This time he was passing out little green packages.
Dad, I just know he’s selling drugs!”
With no further discussion n, Mr. Larson picked up the phone and dialed the sheriff’s office.
“Say Walt, this is Max. Yes, Maxwell Larson. My son here has witnessed something you ought to know about. Johnny says there’s a man on the corner of Twelfth and Walnut passing out drugs. Yes, Johnny says he saw the man giving out packages wrapped in green paper. He says the man has been there by the school for two days.”
After a few, minutes, Maxwell Larson hung up the telephone saying,
“Walt wants us to meet him there.” He said to his wife. “You’d better call dad and mom and let them know what’s happened. After you call them, then call my brother, Bud, he’ll want to know.
“Okay and you be careful.” Jan Larson admonished.
On the way Max met up with Walter Hudson, the County Sheriff, and within a few minutes they reached Twelfth Street. Sure enough, the man was still there, and sure enough, he was passing out small green packages.
Patting his hip to make sure his gun was there, the sheriff got out of his car. Slowly he walked over to the man. Just as the sheriff was almost upon him, the man bent down into one of the boxes. The sheriff pulled his gun. At the same time, the man looked up from the box saying, “You just made it; this is my last one.”
The man reached out to the sheriff. In his hand was a green leather-bound New Testament Bible. Without a word, his face as red as a beet, the sheriff took the little Bible; then turned, walked over to Maxwell Larson’s car and gave it to him.
By this time all the relatives and neighbors had surrounded Max’s car. They saw the Bible, and they saw the sheriff’s face. They also saw the man, as he, without a word, drove off.
The lesson here: Things aren’t always what they seem. The Book of Proverbs, chapter 4 teaches, “Get knowledge; get wisdom; but, in all your getting, get understanding.”
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