Now ol’ Amos was a fiery sort, and I don’t mean his red hair
but like he was burning. You know, on the inside. And maybe that was on account
of the fact that he never did fit in anywhere too well. He was too rough for
the genteel ministerial types he met at seminary. So it didn’t surprise none of
us none when he dropped out and came back to work the orchards. But he wasn’t exactly
what you’d call a regular blue-collar Joe, if you know what I mean. He had
himself an education, even if his hands were calloused and the back of his neck
was red. But he was a hard worker.
Anyway, Amos left the orchard a few days ago without much in the way of warning. Just told the foreman that there was something he needed to take care of, and that he’d be back. I didn’t think nothing of it till I saw him on the Fox News while I was havin’ a beer at Tekoa Tavern. “Turn that up,” I said to the bartender when I saw ol’ Amos on the screen. He was up in Washington addressing a group of Senators or Congressmen. Or maybe they were some sort of lobbyists, I don’t know.
“For three transgressions, even four,” he was saying.
‘Transgressions,’ right? That’s one of them educated church type words. Most folks around here, if they’re church going folks, would just say sin. And if they ain’t the religious types, they might just say, ‘you fucked up.’
But there he was, on the steps of the Capitol building. “For three transgressions, even four, there will be a judgement. Because you sell the righteous for silver, and because you would, if you could, trade the poor for a pair of flag emblazoned athletic shoes. Because you trample the refugee into the dust and push the afflicted into over-crowded cages. Because the father is a groper and his children no better. Because you prostrate yourselves on altars – drunk on wines bought…”
We didn’t get to hear him finish his rant; Capitol security tackled him on the stairs. One of the cops clubbed him with a baton. “Shut up, prophet.”
I expect we might see ol’ Amos back here in a few days. Though he might look a bit beat up. “I’m not a prophet” he was shouting as they drug him away. “I’m just a farm hand, but I know what I know.”
I’m afraid he won’t fit in so well around here anymore after this. He doesn’t seem to fit in anywhere.
Anyway, Amos left the orchard a few days ago without much in the way of warning. Just told the foreman that there was something he needed to take care of, and that he’d be back. I didn’t think nothing of it till I saw him on the Fox News while I was havin’ a beer at Tekoa Tavern. “Turn that up,” I said to the bartender when I saw ol’ Amos on the screen. He was up in Washington addressing a group of Senators or Congressmen. Or maybe they were some sort of lobbyists, I don’t know.
“For three transgressions, even four,” he was saying.
‘Transgressions,’ right? That’s one of them educated church type words. Most folks around here, if they’re church going folks, would just say sin. And if they ain’t the religious types, they might just say, ‘you fucked up.’
But there he was, on the steps of the Capitol building. “For three transgressions, even four, there will be a judgement. Because you sell the righteous for silver, and because you would, if you could, trade the poor for a pair of flag emblazoned athletic shoes. Because you trample the refugee into the dust and push the afflicted into over-crowded cages. Because the father is a groper and his children no better. Because you prostrate yourselves on altars – drunk on wines bought…”
We didn’t get to hear him finish his rant; Capitol security tackled him on the stairs. One of the cops clubbed him with a baton. “Shut up, prophet.”
I expect we might see ol’ Amos back here in a few days. Though he might look a bit beat up. “I’m not a prophet” he was shouting as they drug him away. “I’m just a farm hand, but I know what I know.”
I’m afraid he won’t fit in so well around here anymore after this. He doesn’t seem to fit in anywhere.
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