What you are about to witness can only be described as the cries of heartfelt concern for a friend in need of a severe intervention.
“That boy is in for a stern rebuking.”
“Do you really think it’ll do any good this time?”
“He has to know he’s falling away. ‘Love the sinner, hate the sin…and nag him until he repents,’ as the saying goes.”
“Does it really-“
“Incoming! Dude, watch your twelve o’clock.”
Allow me to explain the scene before you a bit further. This is a boys’ dorm room. The usual concrete block walls, painted an ugly shade of cream, cardboard cut outs of various energy drinks and band posters, and dirty laundry scattered about the linoleum as a winding path of rugs. There is a good sized flat screen TV set on the singular dresser. It matters not that it blocks the only mirror in the room, for what college boy uses a mirror so often that he cannot suffer the occasional trip to the bathroom to check his appearance. If he even does that.
Also, please take note of the six young men also scattered about the room, for sometimes the olfactory glands confuse them with the dirty laundry. Two of these creatures are settled in worn bean bag chairs, playing a good, old fashioned, ‘shoot-em-up, blood-n-guts’ video game. One is asleep on the top bunk, his arm thrown over his eyes to keep the florescent light from interfering with his nap. Another, sitting at the desk, half-listening to the conversation, partly attempting math homework, and mostly texting his girlfriend and listening to some punk rock band nonsense. One more, lounging on a couch near the window, and the final young man, doing most of the ranting in a thick southern accent, is pacing in front of the couch.
“Didn’t I warn him? Didn’t I nurse him back to health after the last break-up?”
“Whoa, breakup? Dude, they aren’t even dating yet. At least, not for real.” Couch Potato offers input.
“Well, this is bound to end in a break-up. Look at the way they are heading. It’s too soon, it’s too fast, it’s all wrong. Doesn’t the Bible make God’s opinion on being unequally yoked, very, very clear?”
“Hey,” Texter turns the volume on his laptop down ever so slightly. “Is he trying to convert her? Ya know, missionary dating? Or whatever that’s called.”
“No, it never works…look at his last relationship. And the one before that, and the one-“
“Robbie, listen and calm down. You’re right, he knows missionary dating never works. Which makes me think this is a deliberate flirt with sin. The man is straying on purpose. Mark my words, your sister is in danger.”
“My sister! Oh, we aren’t even going there. She was raised in a Christian home. Trust, she knows the way of salvation. But that still doesn’t make this ok…I know his intentions, I agree, this isn’t about missionary dating. He wants to lead her astray.”
One of the gamers doesn’t even pause, his thumbs still flying, “Um, so…I’m confused. Who’s straying who?”
Robbie’s southern accent was further intensified by his fevered pitch, rendering it even harder to decipher. “Yeah, I know, right? They’ve both lost their minds.”
“Have you talked with your sister?” Couch Potato again.
“Uh, you mean, rebuked her? Yes, but she’s eighteen. She likes anything with a pick-up truck and bulging biceps.”
A low chuckle emanates from the top bunk; Sleepy is awake. “So this is all cuz you wish you were as built as your roommate? Jealous, much?”
“What…no, I’m not jealous of that, that choch face!”
“That…what?” Texter is distracted by name calling.
“Choch…I don’t even know, I’m so stinkin’ mad, I’m seeing red and making up insults!” Robbie pauses. “And you wanna know the worst part? Their first ‘outing’ is a football game. Yeah, my sister. The one who hates football. Born and raised in the Roll Tide state and never gave a hoot. And now, she suddenly can’t wait to attend…”His voice breaks. “He’s taking her to a Florida Gator’s game!”
Couch Potato’s jaw drops, Texter spins around in his seat, Sleepy sits up in bed, and even both gamers are paying close attention.
“That…he just crossed a line. What is he thinking?”
Robbie considers. “If this is retaliation for the sardine incident…he’s got another thing coming. It’s personal now. This is war.”
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