The Wise Pill

Written By Marvin Thomas Cox Flynn

Copyright 2009 Marvin Thomas Cox
DBA: Marvin Thomas Cox Flynn

A Marvin Thomas Cox Flynn Fable

There was once a kind and humble old man who had a son. He loved his son
very much, but his son was not very bright.
One morning, during his daily prayer time, the old man cried out in
desperation, "Oh Heavenly Father, what am I to do? I love my son, but he has not
the sense to come in out of the rain!"
As was his custom of seeking a place of quietness and solitude to spend time
with His Maker, the old man knelt in a corner of his barn while he poured out all
that troubled him.
Suddenly, the old man heard a distinctly small and quiet voice speaking to
him.
"Reach over to your left and pick up a handful of goat droppings. Place
them in a jar, and be diligent to give one dropping to your son each morning. As I
live, your son will wise up."
"But Father, exclaimed the old man, "You have made it clear to me that
taking drugs is not your way and is bad for our spirits."
"Trust me my son, these are not drugs, but wise pills."
The old man thought upon this for a while and, in obedience, he finally
reached over and scooped up a handful of goat droppings from the barn floor.
 Feeling a bit foolish, but determined to walk in faith out of love for his son,
the old man headed back to his house in search of an appropriate bottle to place
these wise pills in. Having found one which had just the right appearance of
containing some great elixir of health, the old man placed the goat droppings
inside and tightened the cap on the bottle.
Pausing while his hand lingered on the bottle, doubt began set in. Fear
gripped the old man's heart with thoughts of the possible side effects from
taking these wise pills running rampantly through his mind.
"My son could die from taking these," the old man thought to himself.
So, the old man placed the bottle of goat droppings on an upper shelf in the
kitchen cabinets, quietly closing the door to the cabinet, and went about his daily
chores on his small farm where he slaved and worked to eke out a living for
himself and his family. Times had been hard the last few years and he struggled
to produce enough to keep his family fed and clothed.
The old man's son was a good kid, especially to be in his mid-twenties. His
son had great aspirations of fame and riches, and would honestly tell you of his
plans to seek and get a good job to make something of himself. His generation, he
would share with you, was much brighter, more intelligent, than that of his
parents, who lacked true vision and intelligence to succeed in this modern world.
While Dad worked like a fool all day raking and scraping to put beans on the
table, the son slept peacefully awaiting nightfall and that magic time of the
evening to play video games on the computer. Not to worry, he would find that
great career which would make him rich and famous, then his parents would see
how foolish they had been to work so hard for nothing all their lives; parent's
simply did not have a clue, no clue at all ...
The next morning, during his prayers, that small voice asked the old man,
"What will you eat today for lunch old man?"
"What can you possibly mean Father? I cooked a huge meal last evening
since my wife has been feeling poorly, and you know there are all kinds of left
overs in the fridge for lunch."
"I know what's in the fridge alright my son, but it is not left overs. Your
son had his friends over last night while you and your wife slept. They
entertained themselves with computer games and planned out their careers that
will one day make them rich and famous men of the world. Your son fully intends
to show you how smart he is, and how foolish you, old man, really are. All of the
discussion and hard work brought a ravenous appetite upon these young men. Like
a pack of hungry wolves, they raided your fridge eating all the left overs, drinking
up all the milk, eating all the cookies and snacks in the house, leaving you and your
wife the mess to clean up in the kitchen."
"This can't be," cried the old man. "I gave my son explicit instructions that
we could not afford to have company over because we are just barely making it.
That is why I have begged you for your help. I need desperately for my son to be
able to find and hold a job, so maybe he will consider helping his mother and I."
"You did not obey my voice, old man."
"But Father, he could die from eating those goat droppings!"
"Yes my son he could, but I will not let him off that easily. Obey my voice,
and, as I live, your son will wise up!"
The old man went back to the house that morning perplexed and angry:
Angry at his son; angry at himself; and angry at his Maker.
This changed when he entered the kitchen. His anger quickly became
focused where it should be: upon his son. The kitchen was a disaster, with empty
food containers, glasses and dishes, strewn everywhere. Every cabinet door was
open And the fridge? The fridge was empty. Well, with the exception of the
empty dishes that had contained left overs which his son and the young men
conveniently placed back into the fridge because it was closer and handier than
traveling six feet to the kitchen sink.
Rage filled the old man as he stood there trembling in anger. Then, he
glanced up at the open cabinets and saw the bottle of goat droppings. The
words, "Obey my voice," echoed through his mind.
The old man took a deep breath. Then, reaching up into the cabinet he took
down the bottle of goat droppings, gripped it tightly in his fist, and set a direct
course for his son's room.
"Time for this boy to take his morning medicine! He murmured to himself
making his way through the house.
On entering his son's room, the old man reeled from the stench of dirty
socks, dishes with caked up food, and the pungent aroma of a room which had not
had a decent cleaning since, quite possibly, the time of the ark. Clothes covered
the floor along with assorted games, books, magazines, and other junk.
The old man stepped across the room where his son sat reclined in his
computer chair passed out from his adventures of the night before. Mouth agape
and snoring, his son could have passed for a homeless person in the disheveled
clothes he so loved to wear, and the overwhelming fact that he had not showered
or brushed his teeth in days. Hygiene, evidently, was not a part of the computer
game world.
 Very quietly the old man unscrewed the cap from the bottle of goat
droppings and removed one large, juicy, pellet. Shaking his son gently, the old man
fought back the grin that sought to consume his face ...
"Here son, take this, it will make you feel much better."
The boy groggily opened his eyes to a sliver and asked, "What is it Dad?"
"It's medicine son Wise pills. They are guaranteed to help you succeed in
that career you're always talking about getting. Trust me son. I would never give
you anything that would hurt you. Take it, chew it up, and in no time at all you will
begin to feel like a new man."
"Whatever!," protested his son, while he popped the pellet into his mouth
and began chewing it up.
"Tastes like crap Dad! Anything that tastes this bad has got to be some
good stuff. Thanks. I've really been feeling bummed out lately."
For months this morning ritual between a loving father and his son
continued. Daily the old man prayed for his son pleading and asking, "When O
Father, when will this boy wise up?"
"In time my son, in time. Are you feeding the goats?"
"Yes, Heavenly Father, I feed and water them each morning."
"Then, there is no shortage of wise pills is there old man? Time is all that is
needed, time and patience."
A few weeks later during the old man's prayer time, his son ventured out to
the barn for a stash of marijuana he had hidden there. He had really never paid
any attention to his old man praying before. Silly nonsense, an old man speaking
to the air around him as though someone were really there But this morning
something caused him to pause for a moment. He listened quietly to his Dad's
discussion with whomever it was his Dad seemed to think was there Then, he
saw his Dad scoop something off of the barn floor...
Early the next morning the old man began his prayers, to be suddenly
interrupted by that familiar voice ...
"My son, you can thank me later. Right now, go and say goodbye to your
son."
"What do you mean Father?"
"Go! Hurry!"
The old man ran back to the house as quickly as his old legs would carry him.
Upon entering the house, he saw his son standing in the living room with several
boxes packed with clothing, books, and the boy's computer.
"What's going on son? You're up about 12 hours early today."
 Anger filled his son's eyes as he sneered at his Dad, hatefully. "I'm moving
out old man! I am going to live with a friend and we're going to get us some great
jobs, and when we're famous and rich you and mom will wish we would come
around. But, we won't, we'll be too busy having a good time!"
"Why the sudden decision son? No one is running you off you know?"
"I saw you praying yesterday Dad. I know what's in that stinking bottle.
You have been feeding me goat droppings all this time and telling me that it was
medicine. You're crazy Dad, out of your mind! I'm leaving to live on my own
before you and mom both go nuts. I will never treat my son the way you have
treated me You, You, psycho!"
With that the old man's son picked up some of his belongings and stormed
out of the house. Moments later, a car pulled up and the boy's friend helped him
load up ...

As they drove away, the old man stood there somewhat puzzled. Once
again that wonderful still voice spoke to him, "Come on out to the barn old man. I
am waiting on you. We have a lot to talk about today."
"What about my son?," said the old man.
As I live, "I told you he'd wise up!"

(Written April 2nd, 2009, Revised February 24th, 2013)

Author's Note: When I was a kid my Dad told me a joke about wise pills. I never
forgot it, or trusted pills, ever. This story was written in memory of, and inspired by,
my Dad, Martin T. Cox. He passed away in August of 2001.
I once saw a plaque on a man's wall that said: "When a man is old enough to
realize he really doesn't know everything, he usually has a son who thinks he does."
On the adjacent wall this man had another thought provoking plaque which
said: "Old age and treachery will overcome youth and skill."