The following is a piece of well-written
satire by myself. So well-written that, unfortunately, the
original actually had portions of it deleted because a moderator thought it was an
actual news story. I take that, ultimately, as a compliment! ;-) If you enjoy it, please recommend!
With tensions in the Middle East raising concerns of a biblical Apocalypse the Associated Press has learned that "The Rapture", an event directly preceding the end of the world, was actually scheduled for Monday of this week but was postponed at least until the end of summer. Pressure in the form of prayer, lobbying and even direct threats of physical and celestial violence put a last-minute kibosh on what sources say was going to be a "spectacular, world-conflagrating event the likes of which Humanity has never known."
Esther Bentwhistle, a dark-horse hopeful in this year's "Lane County Fair" is busy canning peaches though most in her town of Springfield, Oregon, are still fast asleep this morning.
"I think it was last Friday night. I had just finished placing a dozen jars of peppermint jelly in the pantry when the Angel Gabriel appeared and muttered something about the world ending Monday and to prepare my soul for eternal judgment. Well! First thing, I slapped him for addressing me while I was still in my house-dress but once I realized what this meant for my cinnamon and clove peaches I pinned him up against the door frame and told him that if he or his buddies decided to stop time, end humanity, but most-importantly, prevent my peaches from being judged at the Fair...well...that I'd make sure that Heaven would have Hell to pay!"
She continues, "Margaret Shumble broke her canning-hand playing with her grandchild early on in the season. Once I heard that I knew I
had a chance. And everyone knows that Cathy Charles, terror of the Women's Rotatry Cooking Club, has been hitting the cooking Sherry hard this year. After 2pm, she doesn't know her own ass from a cherry cobbler."
"No!
No, I told him. This is
The Summer of Esther Bentwhistle and no-one and nothing is going to get between me and that blue ribbon.
Nothing!"
All over the United States, a Christian religion stronghold, the scene was repeated again and again.
Except for huge white wings, the Archangel Gabriel could be just another patron sitting at a wooden picnic table out behind Sam Bond's Garage, a local tavern. After two full ashtrays in front of him and a half-full jelly jar of pear cider, he begins to speak:
"Look. I don't know what you know about the early Christian Saints but most of them have
nothing on these old ladies. Sure, I mean, spending your life walking with heavy chains hanging from your body, vows of silence and chastity...But none of this is close to a woman who marries at 16, has five children and spends every day and night of her life cooking, cleaning, teaching them, keeping her husband happy and the whole time praying to and exalting The Lord, Our God. The whole time.
The whole time, dammit."
"Anyway, so someone had the bright idea-
'Hey, let's go down a little early and let all these women know that their hard work and worship paid off and to prepare for The Rapture.' It was some new guy's idea. It always is. I'm going to kick him in the ass when I get back."
When prodded about Mrs. Bentwhistle's allegations he explains "Look, these are the bedrock of Christianity in America. These aren't the coiffured imbeciles speeding in a cream-colored Lexis with four gold crosses hanging from their neck and an equal number of Jesus-fish bumperstickers- these are
real Christians. Their spot in Heaven...and this is off the record...has been assured, most of them, by the time they were 35. These are strong women, stronger than most men. You don't want to go pissing people like that off especially if you have to spend eternity with them."
He goes on to explain that The Rapture has been postponed until all county and state fairs in the United States have finished their run. With this year's lineup The Rapture could take place anytime
after September 1st when "Ludafisk Days" draws to a close in Fife, Minnesota.
"Orders from the top. I can't argue with that. It's not so bad, though. I was talking with the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse a few days ago. Apparently they're making a killing at the carnie sideshow games so I guess I shouldn't have a problem with it either. But I'm telling you now: I would
not be making important plans anytime after, say, noon on the sixteenth of September this year. Potty break."
PB
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