The Fool Speaks

Usually, I say nothing. Tell me the world is flat and I'll pat you on the back and say, "You da man!" Nature will sort things out. Seek and ye shall find. But this time I was trapped. The preacher man forced me to participate if I wanted food. So I violated my policy and spoke truly. Dammit!

At first, there was just a long silence. You could see the wheels turning in all the minds in the cafeteria. "Did he really mean that? What did he mean? Is he gonna start foaming at the mouth?" Then the whispers started.

"There's something wrong with him. He's different."

"I just think he really doesn't know any better. Sad."

"Some people just can't face the harsh truths of life. They make up things to believe in to suit themselves."

"How can there be any hope for someone like that?"

"If you ask me, 'stupid' is the word to describe that guy."

The preaching man bore the cross for all. "It's up to me," he martyred. "I must save this lost soul."

There's nothing so scary as eyes that try to be kind. I'll never forget them as he walked over to me. Even as an outcast homeless, I had never felt so isolated. I can just imagine the forsaken feeling Jesus felt up on the cross, trapped in a world that clamored for his death. Experiencing just a tiny slice of it was enough to send me into a wholesale panic. Then the preaching man bent over to me and hissed.

"You are wrong, my son. There are witches in this world. And we must burn them all."

Hey, I'm a believer now.