Healing

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Medicine To Die For, Part VI

Return of the Maggot

Inspired by II Kings chapter 1; Psalm 1:1; Mark 2:4; John 3:16; John 13:35; and Ephesians 5:16

“So tell me again,” said Mr. Shipwreck. “Does Jesus really love me?”

“Yes, he does!” exclaimed the foursome in unison as they tied the ropes to the mat and prepared to lower Mr. Shipwreck down through the roof.

“But I’ve committed so many sins,” complained Mr. Shipwreck. “I feel like scum. I don’t know how the Lord could ever forgive someone like me.”

“Oh, that’s just the Maggot talking,” said Max.

“The Maggot talking? What do you mean?”

The knock on his heart grew louder.

“Hurry,” warned Mohammed. “We must lead him to Christ before the opening in the roof closes and the window of opportunity flies away.”

“Patience, Mohammed,” replied Max. “Haste makes waste. We’re here to answer his questions, not condemn him. Before Mr. Shipwreck can receive al that God has for him, he needs to know that God really does love him.”

“And the only thing keeping him from understanding that love of God,” remarked LaShawna, “Is all the stinking tar-and-feather opinions he picked up over the years from hanging around the likes of Maggot.”

“How true,” concurred Mr. Shipwreck. “This sinner is just beginning to understand the error of his ways.”

“Which is why we must get him to Christ now, as opposed to later,” interjected Esperanza.

“As I was saying,” continued Max, “to the Maggot he’s nothing but a glob of tissue. But to God. . .”

Buzz. . .

Everyone’s ears perked up at the strange humming noise. Listening carefully, Mr. Shipwreck thought it sounded like a bee on a broken record playing the same old monotonous drone over and over and over again. Meanwhile the knock on his heart grew louder, increasing in volume to keep pace with the hum. He knew that the person doing the knocking was Jesus, and that in response to the knock he had a very important decision to make. The most difficult decision he would ever make in his entire life.

The buzzing sound grew rapidly in volume. As it grew, Mohammed could distinguish a cacophony of whispering voices accompanied by the whirr of insect wings.

With amazing speed they swooped down, alighting on the roof like giant flies upon a pile of garbage, probing the air with their proboscis noses, scanning the scene with their wallpaper eyes, folding spindly arms inside black cloaks. The gray-faced parasites, also known as grubs, reeked of garbage and three-day-old leftover fish. And that was a vast improvement compared to the way they usually smelled.

One especially wrinkly character stood out from the rest. Stepping boldly forward, he cracked his knees in what Esperanza assumed to be an awkward attempt at a bow. He opened his mouth in a nasty grin, revealing two crooked rows of gray teeth, widely spaced and framed in brown stains. In place of the top left canine a shiny golden tooth twinkled brightly, almost mesmerizing.

Of course this could be none other than the infamous Maggot.

“We’ve come to see the patient,” he cackled. “We have medicine for him. Medicine to die for. Ha ha ha.”

He reached a bony hand toward Mr. Shipwreck and patted him on the head. “Good to see you again, old friend,” he remarked. “Your contribution to the cause of science has been most - (here he smacked his lips) - gratifying.”

Mr. Shipwreck gave him a nervous “Thank you.” He would have moved away from the man if he could have, but not only was he paralyzed, he wasn’t going anywhere either.

The remaining grubs stood there with fake smiles plastered on their faces, moving their arms back and forth in a strange swinging motion as if to divert Max and his three helpers from their mission of lowering Mr. Shipwreck through the roof to Jesus.

But the fearsome foursome was a force not to be taken lightly. Especially not Max.

“So Mag, short time no see. Why don’t you drive a motorcycle over the edge of the Grand Canyon? Or find some other way to get yourself lost - for good!”

Maggot lowered a wicked brow at Max. “Ah, my other little friend,” he crooned, “how nice to see you too! Unless I am mistaken, did you not recently request my help in raising our mutual companion off his sick bed?”

“Max!” exclaimed LaShawna, horrified. “You didn’t! Don’t you know the kind of things that creep does for a living?”

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry, okay?” Max tried in vain to defend himself. “Mr. Shipwreck asked me to, and I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway and - well, I made a mistake, all right? Shoot me, why don’t you? Everybody just shoot me!”

“If that’s what you want,” said Mohammed, “I‘ll be the first one to load the rifle. I can’t believe that somebody who’s been a Christian for as long as you have would look to a grub for medical assistance.”

“But I didn’t do it for me,” protested Max. “I did it for Mr. Shipwreck.”

“And that sure is a fine way to help him,” said Esperanza, throwing in her two sarcastic cents. “I really have to question your integrity in this matter, Max.”

The Maggot rubbed his hands in glee. “So nice to see the Christian love you bear one another. What a fine group of Pharisees you all make! Judging and being judged. Don’t expect us poor black cloaks to darken the door of your church. Obviously we are not good enough to match your perfect standards.”

The arrow hit its mark.

Max and his three friends quickly saw the need to reconcile with one another. A profuse round of apologies circulated among them, accompanied by numerous hugs.

Meanwhile Maggot’s right-hand grub, a particularly skinny fellow, seeing that no one was watching, took advantage of the distraction to dangle a watch back and forth before Mr. Shipwreck’s eyes. “I believe you’re feeling sleepy,” he suggested. Max could hear his bones rattle as he cracked his knuckles. He saw him dangling the watch. And he could almost feel the life draining out of Mr. Shipwreck’s body.

“Stop!” he cried, hoping that he wasn’t too late.

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