Bucks in the Belfry

By Patricia Backora

Unutterable terror filled the heart of Reverend Randy. Was he really standing next
to his own body? "It's not fair!" he screamed. "Slim! Slim!" Randy cried. He
ran over and jabbed the arm of his buddy, only to see it go through Slim like an
X-Ray.
"Slim, ya gotta help me!" Randy gasped. "I'm only 37 years old! I can't die
yet! Get down on the floor and make me breathe again! You gotta bring me
back! Oh, please! I'm not ready for heaven yet! I've got way too much living left
to do!"
To Randy's horror, Slim only ran around the ritzy restaurant like a chicken
with its head cut off, yelling for somebody to help. The pie-eyed little man was
way too nervous to be much good in emergencies. The jazz musicians set down
their instruments. The other diners stared at Slim, but most of them looked
annoyed because their special evening out was being marred by a medical
emergency. Finally a tall man in a blue suit emerged from the reception lounge
and said, "Let me get a look at him, I'm a physician."
The man knelt down, held back the head of Randy's big body, pinched the
nostrils, and blew in through the mouth repeatedly. When Randy failed to
respond, the doctor opened Randy's suit jacket and massaged his chest, hoping
to jumpstart his heart. One diner who had just sat down with his family wondered
why Slim was too hysterical to do it himself, so he called an ambulance on his cell
phone. Once he put his phone away, he whispered something to his wife, then
came over to speak with Slim.
"Excuse me, sir, my name is Jake," said the man. "Care to tell me how this
happened? Did he choke on his food or what?"
Slim's teeth chattered wildly. He paced like a helpless animal in a cage. He
looked so scared that Jake was afraid he might hinder the doctor's efforts to
revive Randy. Somehow Jake persuaded Slim to come out to the lobby, sit down
and take a deep breath. A waitress brought them both some ice water.
 "Okay now, sir, just talk to me awhile," said Jake. Your friend is in real good
hands, and there's nothing further either of us can do about this. Just talk, if that
helps. How did it happen?"
Once Slim stopped hyperventilating he said, "He tried to eat and talk at the
same time, Jake. Only trouble, he got to laughin' so hard he choked on his crab
meat. I went behind him and whacked him real hard on the back and he spit the
crab out, but it didn't help him none." By this time Slim was crying. "Instead of
snappin' out of it, he just blacked out and hit the floor…hard. He's my pastor, sir.
His name's Rev'run Randy and I'm his senior treasurer, Slim Barton. I flunked
English in school, but I got a real head for figures and ever'body gets along fine
with me, so I'm sort of an unofficial PR man between the congregation and the
pastor. We were here havin' a bite to eat so we could have a private talk about
how to increase donations."
"So your pastor might have been so upset he didn't fully recover once you
cleared his windpipe?" Jake wondered. "How weird. Is your church going under
financially?"
"Not a’tall, sir, but our church board's been runnin' a contest to see which
congregation can raise the most money this fiscal year. Whichever church wins,
gets a gold-plated steeple with a digital sound system for the belfry. Now our
Rev'run Randy, he just ain't one to settle for bein' second best and I wonder if the
strain of it all finally did him in." Slim brushed a tear from his eye.
"So you think he got so stressed out his ticker just gave out?" said Jake. "How
tragic, he looks like he's twenty years younger than me, even if he is a whole lot
bigger."
"Don't none of us know when God'll take us," Slim moaned, bowing his head.
"Oh, Lord, please…"
"I'm a Christian too, Slim," said Jake. "Been one for twenty-odd years."
"That's wonderful, Jake. I just hope you never lose your first love and turn
away from Christ. It's way too easy to get led astray by the wiles of filthy lucre."
His eyes bulged in terror.
"Why don't we pray for your pastor, Slim?" Jake offered. "Prayer would help
Reverend Randy, and it would help us, too."
Slim blinked. "Don't know that it'd do much good, Jake. Know what he was
talkin' about when he keeled over in his chair?"
"Was it something bad?"
"Yeah, real bad. My word, that Rev'run Randy, he's been worried sick that the
church board'll get on his case for failure to maintain diz'pline out in the pews."
"Sounds like your Reverend Randy must have been a military man at one time
or other," said Jake. I've gotta keep him talking, he thought, so he won't go to
pieces.
"Well, yes sir, he was. He was a drill sergeant in the service, he said once.
And boy, you sure can tell it by the way he's been a- runnin' the church lately."
“How's that, Slim?"
"He's cracks down real hard on deadbeats who don't tithe."
"Well…I've got my own opinions on that subject, Slim, but we can discuss
that later. What I want to know is what your pastor was talking about before he
blacked out."
"It was the craziest thing, Jake. He took a bite of crab gumbo and said, "My
word, this stuff's so good I feel like I done died and gone to heaven." Slim
sniffled. "Well, anyway, Rev'run Randy started makin' fun of all the poor famblies
in our church who eat cheap hot dogs while he gets steak. He laughed about the
Davises, a big fambly with eight kids who eat macaroni and cheese ever' night.
He said some purty mean things, Jake. He said poor people punch out enough
rug rats to man the Russian army, and it ain't his fault poor people have big
passels of kids they can't pay for. And Rev'run Randy said that just 'cause they
got all them kids, it don't mean they shouldn't give him his rightful due in tithes
and offerin's ."
 Jake frowned. "So we have a real live Scrooge among us."
"Live, Jake? He'll be lucky to be a live Scrooge after some of the things he
done. Right before he fell over, Rev'run Randy bragged to me about how he got
a-hold of Sister Jones' savin's. Sister Jones was the last hold-out against tithin'
and so Rev'run Randy made it a little game to see if he could make her feel guilty
for withholdin' her tithes and get all her money for back payments. Well, he went
over to see her Sattidy night and preached her such a hellfire and brimstone
sermon that it weren't long before he had her on her knees a-beggin' Rev'run
Randy to forgive her for stealin' from him. And if that ain't bad enough, Sister
Jones is a widder woman who's got six kids, and ever' time you see 'em they all
look hungry. She'd been a-savin' up for five years to scrape up enough money to
buy herself a whole new set of false teeth. But Rev'run Randy hassled Sister
Jones so much she felt like the selfishest sidewinder in Texas. Well, sir, that poor
lady forked over all'a her tooth money just to get him off her back. But anyhow,
Rev'run Randy was a-crammin' his face full of crab gumbo and a-laughin' and a-
slappin' his knee real hard about how he's so smart he can scare the teeth out of
a poor widder woman's head, and if she can’t afford a new set of choppers to
chew a steak she can go cry in her oatmeal. Then he just keeled over, fell outa
his chair and landed on the floor. I swear, Jake, I tried to get him to ease up on
the poor folks out in the pews, but all that man ever did was crack jokes about
how nice it was to have his own gang of blue-collar slaves goin' out to their jobs
week in and week out to keep him sittin' purty on cloud nine. You know the
plastics plant has just finished layin' off a bunch of workers, and the car factory's
gone. But rain or shine, Rev'run Randy made his people tithe. Said the good
Lord would make their lives mis'rable and whup the tar out of 'em if they didn't."
"We'd better go ahead and pray for your pastor," said Jake, who feared that
divine judgment really had struck him. "He needs the opportunity to consider his
ways and repent before it's everlastingly too late."
Before the two men could bow their heads the doctor came out to them and
said, "I did what I could, but he's gone. Apparently it was a massive coronary.
I'm very sorry."
Unseen by them and unheard by them, Reverend Randy knelt over his body
and screamed "NO! Let me back in! Doctor! Come back!"
The apostate preacher felt himself seized in an iron grip. Something dark and
creepy pulled him away from the lifeless corpse which was already being carried
out the door on a stretcher. Whatever window of opportunity he'd had to re-enter
his body was forever gone. Where he ended up was too nightmarish to describe,
but Reverend Randy knew he wouldn't be let out of his dark holding cell for over
1,000 years. Even then his liberation from hell would only be a dreaded
summons to God's Great White Throne Judgment, after which he would be
consigned to a place prepared by God for the devil and his evil angels…the Lake
of Fire.

$$$$$$

It was the first of the month…already. Sister Jones' blinds were parted to see
who might be rapping on the front door. Not the landlord, the poor widow could
live with that. You'd expect sinners to act like sinners, but to see churchgoers act
like them is a whole lot worse. There she was, right on schedule. Sister Hopkins
from the church finance committee. This time somebody else let her in.
"Brother Slim…ah…what a surprise to see you here," said Sister Hopkins.
"Would it be better if I just called on Sister Jones tomorrow?"
"Nope. We were expectin' you to drop by," said Slim. "You come here ever'
month like clockwork, to excort Sister Jones down to the bank to cash her welfare
check, just so you can get first dibs on it before she buys food for her fambly."
"Well, what's that to YOU!" Sister Hopkins snapped.
 "It's got ever'thing to do with me, sister. Or, at least it used to. I was the
senior treasurer at your church before Rev'run Randy told me you'd been a-
comin' by ever' month to badger money outa poor Sister Jones."
Sister Hopkins pursed her lips. "I should think you'd thank me for making
your job a bit easier. Such ingratitude."
"I never did give you no permission to hassle Sister Jones in her own home,
and you know it!"
Looking stung, the busybody put her hands on her hips. "Ah! So it's perfectly
all right for you to worry people at church by reminding them to pay their tithe,
but not in their own homes? What's the difference, Brother Slim?"
"The difference is, I don't never wanna worry nobody about nothin' no more.
I'm a changed man."
"Really!" Sister Hopkins huffed. "You look the same as you always did."
"Sister Jones," Slim called, "come in here and show Sister Hopkins how purty
your teeth are."
Sister Jones marched in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
She smiled her prettiest for Sister Hopkins.
"Well, what of it?" said Sister Hopkins, peevishly.
"Sister Hopkins," Slim asked her, "can you eat without any pain?"
"Sure can. I've got me a good set of teeth."
"Well,” said Slim, “before I helped our sister out, she wasn't even able to eat
oatmeal without pain. Know why? 'Cause our dearly departed pastor bragged
about how he hoodwinked her out of money she'd been savin' for years to get her
new teeth. How would YOU like it if ever' time you tried to eat somethin' it hurt
real bad? Ever notice how skinny our sister is, Sister Hopkins?"
"I don't make it my business to pry into such matters, Brother Slim. And nor
should you."
"But you sure don't hesitate about stickin' your nose in Sister Jones'
pocketbook, do you?" Slim said pointedly. "Month after month after month you'd
come here to make sure her welfare check didn't make it to the supermarket to
buy food for her hungry kids before your fat pastor took out his tithe money so
he could go buy fancy suits, go on fancy vacations, play golf and eat at the King
Crab Restaurant."
Sister Hopkins got mad. "How DARE you talk about our late pastor like that,
and his body isn't even cold in the ground yet."
"Well, he may'a been YOUR pastor, but he sure as heck ain't mine no more.
Not after all the hell he put our people through."
"Swearing on top of your disrespect! Brother Slim, I'm on my way to report
you to the church board for blaspheming against God's tithe. I don't know how on
earth Reverend Randy ever put an ignoramus like you in such an exalted ministry
of our church."
"I don't expect you to think kindly of me no more, sister, bein' as we're on
different sides of the fence now. But before you go, just level with me. Did you
know anything about Rev'run Randy scarin' the tooth money outa Sister Jones?"
"Who do you think gave him the idea?" Sister Hopkins said airily. "I told him
it was like pulling hen's teeth to get these people to tithe on time. And I told him
how Sister Jones sometimes skipped tithe payments because she was saving up
for her dentures. Well, I'll have you know he said to me: 'Never send a woman
to do a man's job, Sister Hopkins. When you talk to somebody who's stubborn
you must put some teeth to your words and hang on like a pit bull till you get
what you want.' So Reverend Randy personally came by here to admonish Sister
Jones about the arrears on her tithing. Now, Sister Jones, isn't it high time you
spoke up for yourself? Jesus died on the Cross for you. The least you could
sacrifice to Him is a tiny tithe of your welfare check. Won't you come along with
me to the bank to take care of this matter?"
Sister Jones, formerly submissive to the point of being a doormat, walked up
to her and said, "MY Jesus said in Mark 7:27: 'Let the children FIRST be fed.' A
man name 'o Brother Jake came by and taught me and Brother Slim the truth
about tithin'. It's a lie outa the pit of hell to make a Christian starve his fambly to
pay the preacher. And as for Rev'run Randy preachin' to us about Ananias and
Sapphira droppin' dead, he found out in a hurry what God thought of him usin'
that Scripture like a devil's pitchfork to torment us with!"
"So what are you insinuating, Sister Jones?" Sister Hopkins' face was red.
"Brother Slim told me how Rev'run Randy choked on his own words as he
made fun of me and all the other poor folks at church. That's prob’ly why he
keeled over like he did."
"God didn't take Reverend Randy's life and you know it!" cried Sister Hopkins.
"He didn't choke on words, he choked on a piece of crab!"
"But I already told ever'body how Rev'run Randy spit the crab out, but he still
died anyway!" objected Slim. "Just ask the coroner. Rev'run Randy's blood
pressure was sky high. He was way too heavy and his ticker gave out from
laughin' too hard. God took him, Sister Hopkins."
“How DARE you!" Sister Hopkins breathed.
"It's high time SOMEBODY dared," said Sister Jones. "After all the lies I've
been fed about how mean God is to poor folks, and how God so loves rich
preachers that He tells us to give our last dime unto them, I've finally woken up
and sunk my teeth into the real truth. You know it's just as plain as the nose on
your face. If anybody's actin' like Ananias and Sapphira, it's you folks, a-lyin' to
God's people about how it's okay to devour widder's houses, and do it in the
Name of the Lord."
"If you had any sense you'd fast and pray for forgiveness!" Sister Hopkins
yelled, wagging her finger in her face.
"I already done my fair share of fastin'!" retorted Sister Jones. "I'm skinny as
a gumstick 'cause Brother Randy took my tooth money from me, and I couldn't
eat hardly nothin' till Brother Slim took pity on me and gave me money to pay
the tooth dentist to make me my new dentures!"
Sister Hopkins glared. "What's that man doing ALONE with you in your house
to begin with? Everybody knows it's a sin to keep company with somebody else's
husband!"
"My wife knows where I'm at," Slim said. "She's back there a-puttin' food in
Sister Jones' cupboard and her kids are a-playin' at the park with my boy! I
swear, if you ain't out a-fishin' for money, you're out a-fishin' for juicy gossip!"
"At least Brother Slim came by here to GIVE me somethin'!" Sister Jones put
in. "Not once do any of you uppercrust Christians ever stick your nose in my
door except for when you want money outa me! When I got sick last year and
lost my job, we would'a all starved to death if it hadn't'a been for the local food
bank. What help did we get out of Y'ALL? After all y'all've put me through, Sister
Hopkins, if y'all are any example of what bein' a Christian's all about, so were all
them Pharisees Jesus yelled at for devourin' widders' houses!"
"That was a cheap shot!" cried Sister Hopkins. "Next month is the end of the
fiscal year, and all the district churches will turn in their financial reports to the
church board. Now, Reverend Randy wanted that gold steeple, and no matter
what I've got to do to win it for him to help him rest in peace, I'm going to do it!"
"Sister," Slim sighed, "a gold steeple ain't gonna make much difference to
Rev'run Randy now. It won't add one iota of credit to God's account book on his
behalf."
"It's more credit than YOU'VE laid up in God's tithing storehouse lately," said
Sister Hopkins. "I sneaked a look at the books and you skipped the last couple
months."
"My son needed new braces," said Slim. "And my sister here, she needed new
teeth. Go chew on that."
"You'll go to hell for this!" cried Sister Hopkins. "I'll ask God to send the curse
of Malachi Chapter 3 on both your houses if you don't pay God what you owe!"
 "That's witchcraft, Sister Hopkins," said Slim. "And from where I'm standin'
you don't look much like God, so why should we fork it over to YOU?"
"Now, I'll thank you, Sister Hopkins, to get outa my house," Sister Jones
added, narrowing her eyes. "From now on Brother Slim and me will be goin' to
Brother Jake's church. Don't any of you religious panhandlers never come by
here to leech off of us again."
"May God strike you all dead!" Sister Hopkins cried.
Slim shrugged. "Sorta makes me wonder which god you're a-callin' on to
begin with. And talkin' like that, you might just as well hop onto your broomstick
and fly back to wherever you came from."
Sister Hopkins stormed off the front porch and swore that she, for one, would
honor the pastor's memory by continuing on in his tradition.

$$$$$$

Delicacies, delicacies everywhere, but whenever Reverend Randy tried to sample

the fragrant fruit on the illusory Table of Delights a tooth would break and leave
him howling in agony. Whenever he tried to swallow the rich red wine fire would
cascade down his throat and make him scream. All around him Randy could hear
the gurgling of refreshing streams, only to see the pristine blue waters turn to red
molten lava once he reached them to refresh himself. The heat of the Lake of
Fire was beyond all human comprehension. If only Reverend Randy's hopes for
relief weren't continually dashed before his eyes. Far better for him if he could
stop hoping for release from this terrible existence. If only he could learn to live
with the prospect of eternal torment.
Randy festered with hate and resentment as he remembered the stinging
rebukes he'd received at the Great White Throne Judgment. How could the Lord
compare him to the wicked Pharisees of His day, those low-down varmints He'd
scolded as being worthy of hell? Randy had been told he was an even worse
traitor to Jesus than Judas Iscariot who betrayed his Lord for thirty pieces of
silver. In living color Randy had been shown scenes of people who blasphemed
the Name of Jesus because of all the broken hearts and empty refrigerators
caused by his cruel lies. Randy had caused three nervous breakdowns in his
congregation. He was directly responsible for the breakup of two marriages
which foundered because of the constant pressure he'd put on cash-strapped
couples to give, give, give. Worst of all, Randy had been denounced from the
Great White Throne as a son of satan whose life bore testimony to a love of filthy
lucre. And just before sentence was carried out on him, Randy had been warned
that an evil fate lay in store for all those who hurt God's precious children. Every
persecutor of God's children, from Cain, slayer of his brother Abel, to Nero, who
fed Christians to the lions, would have their part in the Lake of Fire which is never
quenched. Hitler would be there. Every ruthless dictator would be there, and
that included every cruel religious dictator who had used the Word of God to lay a
heavy yoke of fear and bondage upon the people of God, and to exploit them for
gain.
Hell is the perfect place for reflection, because there is nothing else to occupy
the time of a doomed soul. Never a moment passed but that Brother Randy's
heart failed with disappointment as the illusory delights of hell turned to hideous
torments once he reached them. But hadn't Brother Randy caused the joy and
expectation of the widow to fail, so that she went through a long dark night of the
soul which caused her to doubt God's very love for her? And now it was Randy's
turn to go through his own dark night, which would never end.