Short Stories

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Paul,
a servant
of Jesus Christ,
called to be
an apostle,
set apart
for the
Gospel of God
which He promised
beforehand
through
His prophets
in the
Holy Scriptures....
[Romans 1:1-2]
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Characters:

Paul - Scruffy Jewish
guy (out-of-work-Pharisee,
and sometimes tent-maker),
under house arrest,
waiting for the town doctor
to come to bring some
expensive herb-stuff,
for his painful
thorn-in-the-butt.

Scriblach - Paul's scribe,
who's walked much too
far in the summer heat,
to write down whatever
his boss says. He won't
stop kvetching, for one
moment. He gets on
Paul's nerves, but he's
the best Jewish scribe
in the tri-town-area.

Sputicus - the underpaid,
ornery, Roman soldier,
who really, really loathes
his new assignment. He
spends most of his time
noshing, and trying to
stay awake.
___________________
"Hey, SCRIBALAH?"
(Grimmace!)
"Do you see that no-good
DOCTOR....
comin' down the road,
YET?"

"Uh uh, BOSS!"
(Scriblach sticks his
little, narrow face out
Paul's cottage door,
to peer down the little,
narrow dusty road. Squinting from
the bright sun, he whines.)
"BOSS? Are we gonna
get STARTED? I got
a long walk BACK...in the
HEAT of the DAY!"

(Paul grimmaces, again.)
"Aw, stop WHINING!
We'll get to the letter,
when we GET to it!
Now, sit DOWN, and
tell me the NEWS."

(Sputicus sratches his
days-old beard. With this
type of assignment, he
doesn't need to look so
spic-n-span, every day, like
he would, at the Palace.)
"What NEWS? Hey,
if there were NEWS,
my friends at the Palace
would'a TOLD me, Paul!"

(Scriblach schlepps over
to the most comfortable
chair, in the tiny cottage.
Before he sits down, though,
he peers at the seat, wrinkles
his nose, and then, using a
corner of his robe, whisks
away a tiny piece of dirt.
Then, he wrinkles his nose,
again....mainly for show.)

(Paul is getting impatient.)
"Will you just SIT DOWN?"

"PAUL! There AIN'T
no NEWS! Heck....YOU'RE
the NEWS!"

"What about .......eh,
your COUSIN, MARTY?
Wasn't he, eh... BETROTHED?
About... a year, AGO? Shouldn't
he be gettin' MARRIED,
by NOW?"

(Scriblach rolls his beaty
eyes, in disgust.)
"Oh....don't get me STARTED!
What a pair, THAT IS!
OY! I can't BELIEVE THAT
marriage was.....made in
HEAVEN!"

(Sputicus stops chewing
on a lamb bone, for one
minute, to squint at the
skinny scribe.)
"Is she PRETTY?"

(Scriblach rolls his eyes,
again. He doesn't say
anything, only gives
Sputicus a meaningful look.)

(Sputicus laughs. Then,
he continues chewing.)
"Oh."
(Laugh!)
"Too bad!"

(Paul frowns, rebukatively.)
"That's not the IMPORTANT
thing, Scribalah! Is she
a good PERSON?"

(Scriblach shrugs.)
"Yeah, SURE, she is!
But.....oy, what a BUTINSKY!
She has to be in charge of
EVERY detail, of the WEDDING!
ALL she does, all DAY....
is give ORDERS, to everybody,
about THIS thing, and THAT
thing! Poor MARTY! Just
wait until, they got KIDS!"
(Scriblach sighs, dramatically.)

(Sputicus, already bored
with how his usual day is
going, yawns, and
reaches out for
another lambshank.)
"So....when are you guys
gettin' that LETTER,
STARTED? My RELIEF
guy is supposed to get
here, about the 6th HOUR!"

(Paul sighs, submissively.)
"Okay."
(Paul frowns. He'd rather
sit, and listen to more of
the town-talk, being as
isolated as he is at the
moment, but he knows
he's got his duties, too.)

(Scriblach pulls some parchment,
out of his travel bag, and
begins to sharpen one of
his styluses.)
"Okay, BOSS! I'm
READY, whenever YOU
ARE!"

(Paul sighs, again. He
wishes that sheister-of-
a-town-doctor would hurry
up. That ointment, he
gave him last time, really
did the trick.....though,
it was ridiculously expensive,
and so smelly, that Sputicus
kept complaining he was
gonna throw-up.)
"Okay......where shall we
start......"

(Scriblach peers up, from
his now-sharpened-stylus.
As usual, he's squinting.
In order to write, he has
to put his face down so
close to the parchment,
that he can smell each
dusty particle of the paper,
with his skinny nose.)
"Who's this TO,
ANYHOW?"

(Paul sighs, and shakes
his head.)
"The ROMANS!"

(Sputicus pipes up.
Up until now, he's been
chomping on his lambshank,
and leaning back, on Paul's
cot. Paul's lying down, knees
up, on the stony floor:
it seems to help his
back.)
"The ...ROMANS?
Why are you writing to
US, FOR? WE couldn't
care LESS, about YOU!"

(Paul inwardly sighs.
He knows, he's gotta
get along with this brute,
Sputicus. But, sometimes,
his patience gets really
worn thin.)
"No, Sputicus. It's not
for THE Romans."
(Sigh.)
"It's for the CHURCH
members......LIVING in,
in.....ya know: AROUND
Rome!"

(Sputicus rolls his big
eyes. He's REALLY
getting bored, by now.)
"Oh.....yeah....whatever.
Just get ON with it!
I wanna have time for
a horse ride, when my
RELIEF-guy comes!"

(Paul puts his hand up,
submissively. Then, he
sighs.)
"Okay. I understand,
Sputicus. I promise:
if we're not done, by
the time Brutus comes
along......I'll just get
Scriblach to come back
tomorrow....."

(Sputicus, appeased,
nods, in a rather bored
way. He can't understand
what all these letters are
about, but they seem to
keep his prisoner busy....
so, what does HE care?)
"Sure; yeah."

(Scriblach mumbles,
under his breath. He
was hoping to visit his
sister's kids, tomorrow.
They lived on a goat
farm, and they always
let Scriblach take a ride
around the farm,
on their neighbor's donkey.)

"I HEARD that, Scribalach!
We have WORK for the
KINGDOM, to DO! The
Lord didn't appoint you,
to ME, just so you could
PLAY around on a FARM...
all DAY!"

(Scriblach mumbles, again.)
(He frowns.)
(He draws a doodle* at the
top of the Paul's
letter-parchment.)

"Hey, SCRIBLACH!"
(Paul, unable to jump up,
due to the long chain
around his wrist, attached
to Sputicus's BIG wrist,
kicks at Scriblach's leg.)

(Scriblach lets out a
dramatically loud,
mournful cry.)
"OW!"

"Hey, GUYS!
STOP IT!
Or, I'm gonna KICK
everybody outta here,
so that, I can take a NAP!"
(Sputicus stops eating,
for a moment, to shake
at Paul's chain, and glare
at the two squabbling
Jewish guys. Ever since,
that Nazarine, JESUS,
had come along, there had
been nothin' but trouble
in the Empire. The Jews
had been pretty easy to
rule, before then. All the
Romans had to do, was
let'em have their stupid
holidays. NOW......
[Sputicus shook his big
head.]....there was nothin',
BUT trouble.)

"But....Sputicus.....
ya can't toss ME, out...
REMEMBER?"
(Paul turns around, on
the hard stony floor,
to gaze up at his plump,
grumpy Roman guard.)
"And......I haven't FINISHED...
tellin' you, all about the
Lord JESUS, yet!"

(Sputicus grimmaces,
in a self-pitying way.)
"Oh, yeah."
(Woe-ful frown.)
(Sputicus leans back, against
the little lumpy,
hard pillow on Paul's cot.)
(He reaches for the lambshank,
once more.)
(He rolls his eyes.)
"I forgot."
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For
I am not
ashamed
of the Gospel;
It is the
power of God
for salvation
to every one
who has faith;
to the
Jew first,
and,
also
to the
Greek.
[Romans 1:16]

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*The reader can
decide what the
doodle is; but,
remember: it's
gotta be something,
from the first century.

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