Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Like a Red Rag to a Bull (11/28/13)
By Jack Taylor
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For years now Iíve worked hard to embrace simple living. I feel part of a movement that is going to transform the world.
But she! She has no concept of managing resources. My jaw hurts from clenching my teeth as I think of the waste.
There are reasons why I was put in charge of the purse strings so to speak. I can see the needy salivate when I reach into my pocket to give a little in their direction. It makes me feel warm inside.
But she? She turns me cold. Maybe hot. Who is she to ignore protocol and just act on her own without regard for the poor?
The few administrative costs I leverage for overhead help ease the stress of dealing with delinquents like her.
Everyone knows her past. Even if others try to ignore it, I know it. I could excuse her actions if they were a little out of line, but this timeÖ this time she has gone way overboard. It makes me want to grab her by the hair and throw her out.
It would have taken me a year in my old job to earn back that kind of mindless expense. And I was good at what I did. Iím here for a reason doing what I do.
But her? Who knows why she was let in the door. My neck and shoulders are like rocks. My head is ready to explode.
It didnít take a university degree for me to learn that there are times and places for displays like Iíve had to witness. This is supposed to be a celebration. Everyone here knows that.
Except her! Weeping her fool head off.
Down on her knees like the lowest of slaves.
A man like me understands dignity and respect. Iím sure I can hear others whispering their disapproval as things are getting out of control. Everyone knows how to act around important people.
Except her. Dumping the most expensive perfume on one pair of feet. All of it. Using her beautiful hair, a womanís glory, for the ugly job of wiping dirty feet. His feet.
Who knows where that perfume came from? Her old lifestyle makes that suspect. Someone should have confiscated it and put it to work so this kind of tragedy was avoided.
Now the smell of that perfume is everywhere. Reminding us all that itís gone. This could easily have covered the gap in our finances. But no one is thinking here. People like this make me see red.
When she had come into the room a while ago holding the alabaster jar I had known it was something special. As she passed by I caught a whiff of the nard. Rare. Exotic.
I praised her in my head for the gift I assumed she was presenting to Jesus.
It would fetch a handsome price on the market. I already knew where I would take it. I already knew my commission and knew how it would ease the discomforts of this journey.
But this worthless vagabond has no sense. Even if she took a little bit and anointed his head in welcome. Even if she poured out a little to fragrance the room to cover all the weary travellers adding their strong body scent. But no!
This shameless woman. Unbraiding her hair for all of us to see. Kneeling like a slave. And dumping it all. On his feet.
The volcano inside had to be put in check first. I let out my breath before I burst. I released the vice grip my teeth had taken. I let go of the scowl that would betray my heart. The master was obviously too shocked to scold her properly.
ďWhy wasnít this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a yearís wages.Ē
Short. Concise. Right to the point.
ďLeave her alone. It was intended, that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.Ē
I can tell you it was absurd. Watching him.
For years now Iíve worked hard to embrace simple living. I feel part of a movement that is going to transform the world. A movement he started.
But he! He has no concept of managing resources. My jaw hurts from clenching my teeth as I think of the waste. Now what am I going to do?
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