The Word for Writers

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(Kibbitz:
Yiddish;
'talk, chat,
or gossip..
usually with an
intimate friend'.)
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And
the Lord
appeared
to him
by the oaks
of Mamre,
as he sat
at the door
of his tent
in the heat
of day.
[Genesis 18:1]
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(Lying back, against
the pillow.)
(A bottle of black cherry
soda, off to one side.)
"There's a PROBLEM,
with my KIBBITZING...
with You,
Lord."

[SMILE!]
"And
what is that,
O'beloved?"

(Sip some soda.)
"Well......"
(Turn on the heat
blanket.)
(Cat jumps up
on the blanket.)
"The PROBLEM is....."
(Squinting, thoughtfully.)
(Look up.)
"Hey....LORD?
DID JOHN THE BAPTIST
REALLY EAT WILD
LOCUSTS AND HONEY?"
(Laugh!)
"Or.....locusts..
and, wild HONEY?"

[PATIENT GAZE.]
[SOLEMN NOD.]

"WHAT did he DO:
MUSH 'EM together?
Did he COOK the
LOCUSTS, or WHAT?"

[GAZE DOWN
UPON PLUMP
CHILD, SMILING.]

"ECH!
That's really DISGUSTING!
What did HE DO:
MUSH'EM together...
in a BOWL?
Did he toss some
BERRIES...on TOP?"

[PATIENT GAZE.]

(Grimmace.)
"YUCH!"
(Thoughtful squint.)
"I never really
UNDERSTOOD that;
weren't his PARENTS,
like,
really CIVILIZED?
They lived in the
CITY...didn't THEY?
Wasn't his Dad,
like, a PHARISEE...
or somethin'?"

[CHUCKLE.]

(Shake head.)
"WELL........
ANYWAY.."
(Sip more black cherry
soda.)
(Burp.)
"The PROBLEM IS...."

[SMILE.]
"Yes,
My child?"

(Scratch scruffy head.)
"Well....
PEOPLE think I'm
talkin' to JESUS:
but, I'm NOT."

[PATIENT NOD.]
[WATCH A BROOD
OF HONEY BEES
SLEEPING SNUGLY
IN A WARM BEE HIVE.]
"Yes,
child;
I know."

"Yeah....YOU DO!
But.....what about
these OTHER people?
The ones who read
my STUFF?"

[PATIENT GAZE.]

"I mean.....I say
some pretty sassy
STUFF to You;
and...a couple of
folk have even said,
they were OFFENDED...
cuz, I was talkin'
to JESUS,
like that."

[PATIENT NODDING.]
[BECKON AN ANGEL
INTO THE THRONE
ROOM. ANGEL IS
CARRYING A SMALL
GOLDEN PLATE WITH
A PIECE OF PAPER
ON IT. THE ANGEL'S
WINGS ARE A BIT
DIRTY FROM FLYING,
AND HIS LONG
CURLY HAIR IS
A WINDY MESS.]
[ANGEL KNEELS
BEFORE THRONE,
HOLDING OUT THE
PLATE.]
[FROWN, OPENING
UP THE NOTE.]
[PATIENT NODDING.]
"Go on,
Mein kin'der."

(Angry look at the
ceiling.)
"HEY!
Are You LISTENING...
TO ME?"

[SOLEMNLY
READING THE
NOTE FROM THE
GOLD PLATE.]
[NODDING.]
[HAND PAPER
OVER HIS RIGHT.]
[PATIENT NOD.]
"Yes,
My child;
go on."

(Glare at the ceiling.)
(Squint.)
"ANYWAY....
as I was SAYING..."
(Frown at the ceiling.)
"I'm always talkin'
to....Ya know: the
Old TESTAMENT GOD..
the Cranky One..
the JEWISH One...
from on top'a Mount SINAI!"
(Look up.)
"NOT JESUS!
He's like.....
the Sweet GENTILE
ONE.....
OFF to one SIDE!"

[SUDDEN BURST OF
LAUGHTER FROM
THE THRONE TO THE
RIGHT.]

(Thoughtful squint.)
(Reach over, to turn
down the heating
blanket.)
"So....what should I DO?"

[PATIENT GAZE OF
A BEE-SMITTEN* FATHER.]
[SLIGHT PERPLEX'D
SQUINT.]
"About what,
Mein kin'der."

"About......Ya KNOW!"
(Irritable wave of the hand.)
"My TALKIN' to YOU!"

"Ah;
I see."
[NODDING.]
"There is only
thing you can do,
My child."

(Snuggle down,
under the heat blanket.)
(Shout to the ceiling.)
"YEAH?
WHAT'S THAT?"

[TENDER VOICE.]
"Don't
stop."
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But
who do
you say
that
I am?
[Luke 9:20]


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*No pun, intended.

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