My wife and I went
out for dinner this evening. She recently discovered that she likes
the burgers and fries at the Family Diner that’s just a few blocks
from our home. So we’ve been there a number of times in the past
couple of months – enough times to sample of variety of their
meals. But there was something new there tonight.
Just inside the
door, to the left of the hostess stand, next to the Claw game was a
Pentecost Machine. “Whoa!” I exclaimed as we entered. “I
haven’t seen one of these since I was a kid”
“What is it?”
she asked dubiously eyeing the mechanical man inside the glass box.
He was dressed in the baby blue suit jacket, white shirt, and black
tie that I remembered. He wore the same large, black rimmed glasses
and held a floppy, dog-eared leather-bound Bible. “It’s a
Pentecost Machine – a kind of mechanical genie, like Zoltar in the
movie, Big. That’s Johnny Pentecost in there. You drop in a quarter
and he gives you prediction about the future from the book of
Revelation. It prints out on a little card.”
Just then the
animatronic preacher inside the glass began to move. “The
Antichrist now walks among us. Do you know the number of his name?
Insert twenty-five cents to find out.”
“Just like I
remember,” I told her. “A church we sometimes visited in
Logansport, Indiana had one in the fellowship hall of their building.
I thought it was awesome but my dad sneered at it and said that
‘parlor games and carnival amusements don’t belong in church.’
He was right of course, but I was always disappointed that he
wouldn’t let me drop in a quarter.”
“Behold the
things to come!” the mechanical voice boomed again. “A sure word
of prophecy, only twenty-five cents!”
“I think I’ve
got a quarter in my purse,” my wife said. “Do you want to fulfill
your childhood dreams?” I laughed and nodded. She dug in her purse
and found a quarter for me. “Go nuts,” she said. I dropped the
quarter into the slot. The machine lit up and came to life. I could
hear the servo motors whining and could smell the burning rubber odor
of faulty, old wiring.
“Gomer – which
is Germany – will send tanks and armored vehicles, submarines, and
helicopters to invade Israel. Ezekiel 38.” A printed card, slightly
smaller than a playing card dropped into the slot below the figure. I
fished it out and put it in my pocket.
My wife rolled her
eyes at this and I laughed. “These things were really popular back
in the day. Do you have another?” She didn’t bother to roll her
eyes again, but I knew. I knew… She found another quarter and
handed it to me. “You have fun. I’m going to go find a booth.”
“Sure. Sure,” I
nodded. “I’ll catch up,” I said and dropped in the quarter.
“Your VISA card
is the mark of the beast, 666. VI is Roman numerals for 6, as is S in
Greek and the letter A looks like the Babylonian cuneiform for 6.”
Another card dropped out.
I didn’t have
any more quarters, but I had a fiver and the hostess was willing to
make change for me. I dropped in another quarter.
“Vladimir
Putin will invade Cyprus when Europeans have a crisis to manage,”
Johnny Pentecost said and the card dropped down into the slot.
“Putin?” I
wondered. “I would have expected Brezhnev
or Gorbachev. When was this thing made?” I examined the casing for
a model or serial number. I even pulled the machine away from the
wall a bit so I could look at the back – but the hostess gave me an
evil eye. I apologized and pushed it back into place and dropped in
another quarter.
“There are eighty-eight reasons that the Lord Jesus Christ will
return in the year 1988,” Johnny Pentecost told me. And a card
dropped into the slot.
And then another. And another. Card after card after card. They
began spilling out of the machine onto the floor in a heap. They
wouldn’t stop.
“Hey!” My wife said from behind me
as I was gathering and shoving cards into my jacket pocket. “Should
I order for you?”
