As the curtain falls on a gloomy, pitch black night, a comedy of epic proportions takes place. It begins with three figures walking along a rugged but lonely road, speaking in hushed whispers.
"Hey, you just stepped on my toes!"
"And you got perfume in my nose!"
"Oh, knock off the rhymes, you two. You'll wake up the lazybones."
"I wish. I mean, we sure could use their help. But no, they're too busy getting their beauty sleep while we're out here risking OUR lives to reach that hidden 'treasure.'"
"You know, that's the funny thing about guys. They'll let the women do the hard part to pave the way, but when it's Men At Work, they have to post a sign."
"Well, I say they're just scared of ghosts."
"Unlike us ladies, who fear nothing. Uh-oh. What just brushed against my leg?"
"Why, it's just my robe, silly."
"It doesn't smell like 'just' your robe."
The women rush forward at an accelerated pace. Meanwhile, further down the road, four grown men are conducting a very grave conversation.
"This stinking job bores me to death."
"Yes, but to not do it gets you killed. Either way you die."
"Too true. But why stick us with the graveyard shift?"
"'Cause if 'it' gets stolen, our heads will roll."
"But I've got an itch I can't scratch."
"So deal with it. And get that torch out of my face before you catch my hair on fire."
"Hey, have a heart. He's wiggling like a spider. Give him a bathroom break."
"Ooh, yuck! Don't talk about spiders. I hate those creepy crabby things!"
"And I hate anything that smells of port-o-potties."
"You mean like stinky diapers?"
"Don't say that!"
"Ha ha. I can't believe a macho man like you is scared of - "
"Stop it! I will not be laughed at, just 'cause I hate germs. Besides, changing babies is girly work."
"Speaking of girls, we sure could use a few."
"Fat chance of that. They're too scared of ghosts to come lurking around here."
"Ghosts? What ghosts?"
"You know - the kind that hang around cemeteries."
"Don't be a wimp. See the light on the horizon? Dawn has arrived. Bye-bye werewolves, vampires, zombies, and ghouls. The joke's on you. Soon we tired humans can get up and go to bed."
"But until then I still need to use the restroom."
"You wimp! Be strong and hold it in like a man."
Even as they speak, a loud rumbling shakes the ground. What appears to be a bolt of lightning falls from above. The four men fall over backwards. As the light intensifies, a great commotion ensues.
"Ow!" cries a man.
"Help! I just tripped on something!" yells a woman.
"What is it?" asks her friend.
"It - feels like a person. In fact, if I didn't know better, I could swear it was a - an army guy."
By now the men are all awake, and disoriented as drunken sailors.
"Yikes, I've been attacked!" cries the man who was tripped on. "By a walking perfume factory!"
"I'm allergic to perfume!" cries his friend.
"Say, you know that itch I had?" says another man groggily. "I'm afraid it's poison ivy."
"That means it's the end of the world!" screams the fourth man. "We have to run and hide!"
"Excuse me," one of the women interrupts, "but before you do that, we girls were wondering if you guys could help us move something. It's big and round and - well, it's standing in the way of our, uh, treasure."
"Your - your treasure?"
Suddenly the bolt of lightning answers them from atop a giant stone. "Your Jesus isn't here. He's risen. See where they laid Him?"
The four male soldiers look as if they've seen a ghost and run off screaming.
"Well, I guess the joke's on them," says a woman, whose name happens to be Mary. "Meanwhile let's lay down our smelly spices and check out this empty tomb."
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.