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Carl Butterwinkers sat on the edge of the Chattahoochee River. With a faded black patch covering his right eye, he tried to focus on a large boulder on the opposite bank. Without taking his eye off the rock, he reached into his frayed flannel jacket and pulled out a salami sandwich wrapped in a paper towel. The snack was gone after four large bites. He wiped his fingers on his pants and folded the paper towel and put it back in his pocket. Reaching in another pocket, he retrieved an extra-large pill bottle filled with Kool-Aid. After struggling to get the childproof cap off, he swallowed the drink in one gulp and let out a tiny belch. The short, balding round man was trying to put the lid back on his makeshift canteen, when someone dressed in a white uniform walked up behind him.
“There you are, Mr. Butterwinkers. I’ve been looking for you.”
Carl turned around with a mischievous smile on his face. The fifty-year-old spoke slowly in a child-like manner.
“Hello, Charley.”
“What are you doing, Mr. Butterwinkers?”
“Lookin’ at that rock. Isn’t it cool?”
“Yes, it’s a nice rock. But it’s getting late, Mr. Butterwinkers; we need to be getting back.”
“I know, but the rock is so neat. I bet it would be fun to dive off of, or fish from, or even eat lunch on with a friend.”
“Yes, Mr. Butterwinkers, that’s one nifty rock.”
“I don’t like this river, Charley. If it wasn’t here, I could just walk over to the other side.”
“I know, but the river is here, and it is deep and wide.”
“We need a bridge, Charley, or a boat. You got a boat, Charley?”
“No I don’t, Mr. Butterwinkers.”
Charley turned around for a moment to talk into his radio. When he looked back, he saw Carl wading into the river.
“Mr. Butterwinkers! What are you doing?”
The orderly jumped into the water and tried to turn the patient around.
“Let me go, Charley. I want to get to that rock. I hate this side of the river. I hate it! I hate it!”
Carl started to cry.
Two more orderlies and a nurse arrived in golf carts. After some coaxing and a shot of Valium, Carl was ready to be taken back to the institution.
“I’m sorry, Charley. I just wanted to get to the other side.”
“It’ll be okay, Mr. Butterwinkers. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Charley told the other orderlies he would walk back. Before he started though, he spied a sheet of folded paper towel by the river. He went over, picked it up and put it in his jacket.
Carl must have taken this out of his pocket.
Charley then looked across the river at the large boulder. He imagined having lunch on it with his children.
I hate this river too.
That night two angels, one taller than the other, stood on the riverbank across from the boulder.
“So, what is it we’re going to do,” the shorter angel asked?
“We’re going to show him the Bridge.”
“The bridge? Oh, the Bridge. To which one?”
“To the one sleeping with the paper towel. He’ll tell the other about it.”
“Which one has it now?”
“The orderly gave it back to Carl before he went home.”
“Isn’t the paper towel what the visiting chaplain gave Carl to wipe his tears with last week?”
“The same one. He tried to tell him about the Bridge.”
“How are we going to get him to understand?”
“With these.” The taller angel held up a pair of golden scissors.
“Oh, the scissors. I love seeing people get set free.”
“Me too.”
“This is pretty awesome, isn’t it?”
“Yes, God is good. But, what do you mean?”
“You know, a bridge shaped like a cross, spanning over this hated river to the rock. I mean, very symbolic.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Would make a good story, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, in fact we have to visit a writer soon to give him a rock.”
“You mean, the Rock?”
“No, a rock. We are going to have to hit him in the head so he’ll stop listening to himself and start hearing God.”
“That’s always fun.”
“Yes it is. Are you ready?”
“Oh yes. I can’t wait to see Mr. Butterwinkers and Charley on the other side of the river.”
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