Communication

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He found
him
in a desert land.
And in the wasteland,
a howling wilderness;
He encircled him,
He instructed him,
He kept him
as the
apple
of His
eye.
[Deuteronomy 32:10]
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"WHY do people,
always WRITE
to ME,
like that,
LORD?"

[SILENCE.]
[PATIENT SIGH.]
[TAKING A BREAK,
LISTENING TO
ANOTHER ONE OF
HIS SWEETER
CHILDREN,
TALKING SWEETLY,
PERHAPS EVEN SINGING,
AND NOT KVETCHING,
TO HIM.]

"LORD?
Are You,
THERE?"

[NOD.]
[LISTENING;
WAITING, PATIENTLY
AND LOVINGLY,
FOR ANOTHER WHINE.]

(Moment of intense
thought.)
(Silence.)
(Grimmace.)
"Can I just..
talk,
to the
JEWISH GOD?"

[PATIENT NOD,
WITH THE PATIENCE
OF JOB.]
"Yes,
Mein kin'der."

"I'm just more
COMFORTABLE...
talkin'
to HIM."

[PHILOSOPHICAL NOD.]

"It's nothing,
PERSONAL."

"I understand."
[SMILE!]

"I'm SORRY!"
(Woeful grimmace.)
(Hold palms,
upward,
at the ceiling plaster.)
"It's just THAT....."

"I understand,
My kin'der.
I understand."
[CHUCKLE!]
"Go on."

(Frown.)
"I forgot....
what I was
gonna SAY."

[NOD.]
[GLANCE OVER,
TO THE RIGHT.]

"Oh, THE FONT!
THE FONT!"

[NODDING.]
[GAZE AT A KNAT,
WALKING GENTLY
OVER A GREEN
GRAPE,
IN A BOWL,
SOMEWHERE
IN THE USA.]
"Go on."

"Yeah!
The FONT!"

"What about it,
My child."

"They ALWAYS
MAKE IT,
SO SMALL,
LORD!"

[PATIENT SILENCE.]

"Why do they,
DO THAT?"

[GLANCE, AGAIN,
OVER TO THE RIGHT.]
[PATIENT SMILE!]
"Do what,
Mein kin'der."

"MAKE IT TOO
SMALL!
I CAN'T READ IT!"

"Why don't you
tell them,
My child."

(Whiny, nasal voice.)
"I HAVE!
I HAVE!"

[PATIENT VOICE.]
"Then,
tell them,
again."

"I don't want....
to...
Ya know:
seem... too KVETCHY!"

[THE THRONE ROOM
ERUPTS WITH LAUGHTER.]
[SOME LITTLE BIRDS,
THAT HAVE BEEN
HOPPING ABOUT,
AROUND THE RIVER
THAT FLOWS IN
FRONT OF THE THRONE(S),
SUDDENLY FLY AWAY.]
"Just be yourself,
Mein kin'der."

"I TRY!
But......Ya know;
it's HARD!
I'm EMBARRASSED!"

[CHUCKLING.]
"About what,
O', kin'der."

(Squint intensely,
up at the ceiling.)
"ABOUT.....
how,
BLIND,
I am!"

[NODDING.]

"NOBODY
UNDERSTANDS!"

[PATIENT NODDING.]

(Squint, upwards.)
"THEY don't KNOW!
But....when,
I WRITE.....!
I have 'ta use an 18!
Or.....24!
And...THAT'S
with my..GLASSES!"

"Yes.
I know."

"And.....
Ya know...
to have one 'a those,
OPERATIONS...
it's like,
5000 DOLLARS!
AN EYE!"

[EMPATHETIC NODDING.]
"I understand,
My beloved."

"AND......"
(Squint.)
"They TELL ME....
I'd,
STILL,
have 'ta wear GLASSES!"

[NODDING.]

"Can You,
BELIEVE THAT?"

[NOD.]

"OY!"

[NOD.]
"Life is a trial,
My beloved."

"YEAH!"
(Snort with decisive
derision.)
"Ta' hell,
with THEM!
Those EYE DOCTORS!
Nothin', but a buncha
SHEISTERS!"

"Don't curse,
child."

"Yeah;
well.....that's
easy to SAY.
When....y'ur
not DOWN HERE!"

[RUMBLE.]
[FROWN.]

"I don't mean,
YOU,
YOU,
Lord."
(Look up,
squinting,
hopefully.)
"I meant....
Ya know:
YOU,
YOU."

[PATIENT FROWNING.]
"Hm.
Hm."

"It's just English
GRAMMAR,
Lord."

"Hm. Hm."

"Yeah.
Well....
anyway...
I'm glad,
WE had this talk."

[NODDING.]

"So....HOW
should I APPROACH,
my FRIENDS?
ABOUT IT?"

[CHUCKLE.]
"I think,
you just
did."
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Keep me
as the apple
of Your eye;
Hide me
under the
shadow
of Your wings.
[Psalms 17:8]

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