The Medium
Stan A Fowler

 

"LIGHTS!"
"CAMERAS - one - two - three - four, READY?"
"READY!"
"TEN SECONDS TO GO EVERYONE. IN YOUR PLACES PLEASE!"
"CUE MUSIC! Five - four - three - two - one - NOW!!"

A drum roll coupled with the uncomplimentary fanfare of trumpets filled the auditorium, while some anonymous voice boomed through a hidden microphone.

"LA - DIES AND GENTLEMEN," the bass tones exaggerated every syllable, "PLEASE GIVE A WARM WELCOME FOR YOUR HOST AND MINE - MR HAAAARRRRY SPHINCTERRRRR!"

The stagehand held up a large cue card to the audience and they duly obeyed. Rapturous cheering and applause sounded over and above the theme-tune, creating an enthusiastic cacophony of absurd confusion and noise. Eventually, the spotlight illuminated the sudden appearance of the presenter, dressed appropriately in an equally loud and noisy silver-spangled suit (with matching shoes and tie no less). His presence seemed to raise the decibels even more, which in turn, caused his ego to swell in equal proportion. Harry J. Sphincter stood with arms akimbo, soaking up the atmosphere like a cactus in the desert would absorb the rain - as if it would be his last. How prophetic that statement would be when, within the hour, this sanctimonious, pompous, arrogant, self-adoring excuse of a personality would effectively destroy his self in front of an entire nation.

At the floor manager�s behest - namely a forefinger across the Adam�s apple - Harry tripped lightly down the stairs and swaggered onto center stage. Sparkling like a mirror-ball above a dance floor, he reluctantly raised a hand to quieten his audience.

"GOOD EVENING, EVERYBODY!" His smile the size of a piano keyboard failed to subdue their adulation. "SSH! PIPE DOWN PLEASE! OH, YOU�RE SUCH A WONDERFUL CROWD AND I LOVE YOU ALL." He tried again.

"GOOD EVENING, EVERYBODY!" This time they all retaliated with a resounding reply, "GOOD EVENING, HARRY!" And then silence.

"Thank you very much! Oh, thank you for that marvelous reception. I must ask for another raise after the show." The audience tittered. "We have a real interesting program lined up for you tonight folks and - for you, the viewers at home. Let me begin by asking you a couple of questions - ones that I�ve asked on numerous occasions before. Do you believe in life after death?" He paused for effect. "Indeed, do any of you believe that certain people can communicate with the dead?" He paused again. "Or is it all just an elaborate hoax perpetrated by those who seek to make a living, or even a fortune, from the misery and heartache of those less fortunate and perhaps more gullible members of our society? Well, you all know my viewpoint on this subject but, once again, we have in our studio someone who claims to be able to do just that and much more. Let�s go see if we can expose him to be the despicable charlatan he really is, shall we?"

The audience promptly gave the verbal reaction Harry was accustomed to and applauded as he made his way to a podium which sported a pair of plush, high-backed chairs, one being occupied by a nonchalant, ordinary-looking man who seemed to radiate an air of notable indifference to the whole affair. Harry reached for his script and a thick folder marked �Confidential,� sat heavily in his seat and placed the microphone on the floor beside him.

"Ladies and gentlemen. I would like to introduce you all to a - (wait for it) - Mister Zodiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaac�!" The presenter sneered sarcastically, and canned laughter accompanied his rude attitude. "Okay, okay! Let�s be serious for a moment," interjected the host, "Now, Mr Zodiac! That cannot be your real name, surely?"

"No, it is not." The man answered quietly.

"No it�s not, indeed! According to my researchers, you were born under the name of Stephan Goldberg. You�re of Polish / Jewish descent and you have lived in the Bronx all of your life. Yet you claim to be a Christian, do you not?"

"No I do not."

"You don�t? Well what do you claim to be then?"

"I don�t claim to be anything. I am merely a Christ-inspired man of simple means and I try to live my life as austerely as I can." The response was sweet and calm.

"O�kay! So, you are Christ-inspired yet you claim to talk with dead spirits?"

"No, I do not."

"Excuse me Mister er�Goldberg�Zodiac or whatever. The reason you�re here today, on this show, is because you claim to heal the sick, raise the dead, walk on water, turn water into wine and communicate with those long gone! Are you calling me a liar?"

"I think not. When questioned by your researchers, I merely stated that the spirits who choose to commune with me�are very much alive! Living energy, in fact. Just like you and I. As for healing the sick or bringing people out of a coma, etc., I said that God�or that same Living Energy�healed through me. I, personally, cannot heal anyone. I�m merely the instrument in the deed."

"An instrument! Hmmm!" Harry continued, in his usual sarcasm, "What �like a scalpel, a violin or a stethoscope, perhaps?" It was a cheap shot but it worked. Canned laughter cued the audience to join in, although Sphincter was beginning to feel a little unruffled by this stranger�s placidity and calmness.

"And the walking on water, water into wine business?"

"Oh, I�m sure I would be quite capable should the need arise." A chortle ran round the studio and Harry decided to change tactics.

"Very well then, can you tell us why you call yourself�Zodiac?"

"I don�t call myself anything. The people, whom I�ve tried to help over the years, gave me that name. Apparently, I constantly inspire people to look to the Heavens above and within for the answers they seek, and so they chose for me an appropriate title. Nothing more�!"

"Okay, fair enough!" He sighed, pointing his eyes skywards and raising yet another titter from the spectators. "Can I ask then�how much do you charge for your services?"

"Nothing!" Smiled the medium.

"Oh, come now! That�s not altogether true, is it?" Harry felt he�d scored a hit at last and turned to face his audience. "My researchers, ladies and gentlemen of the Jury, were asked to pay forty dollars each for the privilege of visiting the hall in which this�this�person gives his so-called demonstrations," he turned back to face his guest, "This is the standard charge, is it not?"

"No, it is not." The medium remained completely unperturbed.

"Look! Don�t try to be smart with me, young fella.� I must warn you," the presenter looked him in the eye, "if you insist on calling me a liar in front of all these witnesses, not to mention the millions of viewers my show attracts, I�ll be forced to sue you for trying to damage my integrity� Mister Zodiac!" The onlookers erupted with howls of delight, sensing their hero going for the jugular or perhaps the kill. Harry beamed his expensive dental-work towards the camera yet, still, the man showed nothing but a warm and loving attitude. Harry glared into the camera lens.

"I have in my hand a dossier - a culmination from months of painstaking investigations - containing undeniable, irrefutable evidence of fraud, cheating, robbery, duping�in fact, you name it, I�ve got it on record! Furthermore, we have invited two policemen to wait in the wings, to whom I will present this evidence at the end of the show and you�Mister," he turned to face his victim, "will find yourself under arrest! What do you have to say to that, Goldberg?"

The studio erupted, cackled and roared, cheering and shouting obscenities at the quiet man. They were baying for blood and Sphincter loved every second, milking it for all it was worth. He went on, relentlessly.

"Why, there is so much evidence that even Jesus Christ couldn�t get out of this one!" Laughter reverberated throughout the auditorium.

"Who�s going to be your Pontius Pilate, I wonder?" The audience were now on their feet, stamping and shouting. The cameras panned them, focusing upon determined expressions of disgust and loathing. Harry carried on remorselessly, secure in his mind that he had once again beaten the �enemy.�

"What miracle will you perform now in order to redeem yourself, huh?"

"Is that a challenge?" asked the medium, softly. The audience hushed.

"A challenge? Why�yes, I suppose it is." My God, he thought, he�s playing right into my God dam hands. Harry was thrilled.

"Beware, my friend. Tempt ye not the Lord thy God!" the man warned in all sincerity. Sphincter turned to his audience, choosing to ignore the last remark.

"Shall we put him to the test?"

"YEEEESSSS!"

"Should we ask him to heal someone?"

"YEEEESSSS!"

"Is there anybody among you who would like to be healed?" An emphatic silence of a few minutes was finally broken by a male voice.

"Yes! I�d like to be healed, if you don�t mind."

"Sir! Come on down!" Harry Sphincter was in his element. Viewing figures soared in his head and dollar signs flashed in his eyes. He was the highest paid talk-show host in the world and, furthermore, he knew he was up for a prestigious award for his work in American television. The crown was most definitely his; no one could knock him from his perch now. Hell, he thought, I might even run for president. The spotlight picked out the figure of an elderly gent in the back row, tapping a white stick and feeling his way down to the stage. Harry sprung from his chair to meet him.

"Good evening, sir! How are we today? Well, it�s fairly obvious what your problem is. I was kind of hoping for something simple like a boil on the fanny. You don�t have a boil, do you sir?" The old boy shook his head amid chuckling.

"No�I thought not. So, you would like your sight restored, am I correct?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I would," muttered the old man.

"Right Mr. Zodiac�he�s all yours!"



The medium stood erect and strolled casually towards his patient. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and rested a hand over the blind man�s brow.

"Your eyes are fine! You can see perfectly!" he stated quietly and sat back down in his seat.

"Well?" Harry prompted, "Are you cured?" The chap opened his eyes slowly at first, then in astonishment.

"Blow me down with a feather, it�s a miracle. I can see, I can see!" he squealed gleefully. The audience gasped in disbelief and then applauded while Harry faced the main camera.

"Ladies and gentleman - and you the viewers at home - you have just witnessed the very first�televised miracle�in history," he lingered for the greatest effect, then yelled, "I THINK NOT!!!"

The clamor ceased abruptly. Blank, uncomprehending stares painted their faces instead. Harry Sphincter rounded on the old boy and enquired, while caressing his shoulder, "Have you ever been blind, sir?"

"No Siree. I�ve enjoyed twenty-twenty vision all of my life."

"Well, there you have it, folks. (Sir, please return to your seat). I�ve just demonstrated how easily these people are able to dupe the public." Again, the onlookers applauded like perfectly trained seals requesting a fish. "Now, Mister Zodiac, how do you answer that?"

"As I said before," came his mild-mannered reply, "the gentleman�s eyes were fine; he could see perfectly well!"

"Oh boy, you certainly are the epitome of the word cool�a very clever man, indeed! Okay, how about a genuine case brought for healing then? Are you up for it still?"

"As you wish."

"Could you bring on our next um�victim, please?" Harry indicated to the stagehands that readily helped a mother with her sick child in a wheelchair-type contraption. Sphincter guided the woman towards the healer and asked her to reveal her name.

"I�m Agnes�Mrs. Agnes Thomas, and this is my son, Alexander."

"Right Mrs. Thomas, we haven�t met before today, have we?" She shook her head nervously. "Don�t be shy. I don�t bite, regardless of what my critics say. How old is Alexander, by the way?"

"He�s�eight and a half."

"Could you tell the audience and the viewers at home exactly what is wrong with Alex?" He thrust the mike into her face.

"Al�Alexander," she corrected, "he has um�cerebral palsy. He was born with it, Mr. Sphincter." She looked pitifully to the medium and he willingly felt every ounce of her suffering.

"Now, Mr. Zodiac�ugh!" He shuddered visibly, "that name is beginning to get on my nerves! Would you be kind enough to utilize your gift but for real this time?"

The healer nodded gently and moved closer to the mother and her loved one. He raised his arm, fingers spread, peered deeply into the young boy�s eyes and then froze. A few moments later he turned to the presenter.

"I�m sorry, but this child cannot be healed!" Everyone present gasped with incredulity.

"You mean�God chooses to ignore one of His own?" Harry mocked.

"On the contrary, it is the child who does not wish to be healed." The woman emitted a lamentable wail while everyone else booed and jeered.

"Great Scot! Your audacity knows no bounds, mister. Explain yourself, please. Explain how a youngster who cannot even communicate its simplest want to its parents, could possibly inform you that it doesn�t wish to be healthy and in control of its own life!" Harry loved every second of what could turn out to be the best show ever. He held up a hand to quell the people�s emotions and pointed the mike in the phlegmatic healer�s direction.

"Quite simple, really. His angel informed my angel who, in turn, told me." Every individual in the place, except for the woman, her offspring and the medium, burst into raucous laughter and subjected the man to the most horrendous ridicule. He, on the other hand, touched Agnes� face lightly as great tears rolled down her cheeks. Her lower lip trembled as she peered into his bright, blue eyes, silently imploring him for pity until she saw, with some deep insight, the wisdom in what he conveyed. She stared down at her child with a new understanding, knowing somehow in the depths of her soul that she was seeing the very face of God Himself. Mrs. Thomas slipped quietly away without a backward glance and no one paid her any heed.

"WOW! THIS JUST GETS BETTER AND BETTER!" Harry screamed at the crowds while trying to suppress a fit of giggles. "Is there anybody else�" he snorted, "�anyone who would like some help? Anyone who wishes�(Snigger)�to be healed?" Sphincter wiped the tears from their ducts. "You sir! You look as if there�s something wrong with you, what�s your problem fella?" The spectator waved his hand to shoo away the attention, but the host persisted.

"Aw, c�mon. Be a sport. Tell us about your affliction!"

"Humph! I have an arthritic spine, okay? I�ve had it nigh on twenty-eight years and I�ll live with it for another twenty, God-willing!" More laughter rang out then waned swiftly when Sphincter made a serious offer to the skeptic.

"Sir, I�ll give you five hundred dollars out of my own pocket if you will just let him try, yeah?"

The man mulled it over briefly then shrugged his shoulders in defeat. Bent almost double, he shuffled awkwardly onto the stage. A serious hush descended now, expectant of the next opportunity to express amusement. Once again the medium inhaled, placed one hand on a shoulder and the other on a malformed spine, and then whispered something into the invalid�s ear. A good five minutes later the medium casually returned to his chair. The man�s eyes opened wide as he deliberately straightened his back until fully erect.

"Praise the Lord! Well I�ll be�" was all he could murmur. The entire audience now muttered one to another, waiting for Harry to play his ace card.

"Well sir�how do you feel?"

"Marvelous! I feel absolutely, God dam marvelous!"

"You mean�you�re cured?" asked Sphincter, incredulously.

"Too damn right I am. The man�s a saint."

"Whoa now, hold your horses one second. I anticipated something like this. Folks, I�d like to introduce a special guest who has been sitting among you, patiently waiting for something like this to happen. Dr. Philip Pharquahasen, an eminent and much revered Psychiatrist and Psychologist, will share with us his much respected opinion on what has just occurred." The seals clapped again right on cue as Harry gave the doctor the microphone.

"Ahem�! Well, yes�! It�s quite simply a case of autosuggestion. You may have observed that Mr. Goldberg whispered in the gentleman�s ear. This is not uncommon and I myself have used the same method with similar results on countless occasions in the past. In fact, I wrote quite an extensive dissertation on that very subject which, incidentally, has been published in many of the most prominent medical journals. My authority is unquestionable and I�"

"Twaddle!"

"I beg your pardon?" The doctor appeared indignant.

"Utter twaddle! Mr. Zodiac healed me, as simple as that!"

"Sir," spluttered the medic, "Would you care to reveal exactly what was spoken in your ear?"

"Yeah, sure�he said, whatever you do don�t thank me, thank God!"

Sphincter realized an intangible change in the atmosphere and the fact that he was losing the audience. He had to think fast.

"Sir, go back to your seat please. Oh, by the way, here�s your five hundred dollars."

"Stick your God dam money up your God dam ass. I tell you that man�s just cured me. I felt intense heat an� then a tingling like �tricity pouring into my back. I�ve never been so free of pain in nearly thirty God dam years�"

"Yes�well�such is the power of hypnosis and the like� There you go, folks. Perhaps we aught a get on with the show?" Harry appeared uncomfortable, almost afraid. Pulling himself together, he offered his broadest grin and turned to his imperturbable guest.

"Mr. Zo�Mister Goldberg, I believe you hold s�ances in which you contact the dead. Would you explain that process to us, please?" By now one could hear the proverbial pins drop in the middle of Times Square.

"I do not hold s�ances. Nor I do not contact the dead. People who have lost their loved ones, and can�t come to terms with their loss, seek me out for comfort, for proof and for truth of the existence of life after death. That is all."

"And how are you able to do this? I mean�what makes you so special?"

"I am not special. I am no different to anyone else in this room. I simply follow the Christ path as it should be followed - with the heart - and all else comes, just as He promised. You or anybody else could do the same. He will not fail you. Seek and ye shall find, ask and it shall be given!"

"Yes well, that�s all very reassuring but why should these um�departed souls seek you out instead of going to their families?"

"Because I am in the world but not of the world. I have lived my life in such a way that I am able to raise my vibrations to a height where I can now discern that which exists all around us all of the time."

"And how do we raise our vibrations so that we can see also?"

"Simple! Turn your eyes aside from the material distractions and search for the truth in one�s heart, within one�s soul."

"Now, how did I know you were going to say that?" He turned to the camera, "guess I must be psychic, huh?" The audience failed to respond making Sphincter decidedly uneasy. "Ahem�you say you�ve discovered truth through a life of abstinence and yet you charge a fortune for your services. Isn�t this being a little hypocritical or even�a whited sepulcher?"

"As I told you earlier, I charge nothing. Your researchers asked my assistants how much was the fee. My aides told them that anything and everything is donated. When the researchers asked what the average donation was, they were told around forty dollars, which it is. No one is expected to give anything but people touched by the Spirit of God feel they must give something. The donor directly into a safety-deposit box that is always locked posts any donation and the keys - the only key - are in possession of an independent accountant. He, and he alone, collects the donations every week, takes two percent for services rendered, keeps the books up to date taking care of any bills and the upkeep of the premises that we use. Any personal costs and expenses are out of our own pockets. The public or, indeed, any appointed auditor can examine the said books at any time. They will show that every cent over and above the aforementioned expenditure is distributed between charitable concerns and anyone in dire need or desperation. Furthermore, it can be known that the generous fee for my execution tonight is already in the hands of the accountant and logged in the appropriate column labeled �money for old rope�!" More than a few people giggled at the latter remark.

"Why then would you go to those extremes if you�re so trustworthy?"

"Because of people like yourself who are forever accusing us of being frauds, cheats, robbers, dupers and anything else you�ve got on record including�ah yes, despicable charlatans."

Someone in the crowd initiated applause; slowly at first and then more vigorously, it increased with rapture. Sweat broke on the presenter�s brow, and it had nothing to do with the studio lights. Everything was going wrong. He should have destroyed this impertinent deceiver by now as he had done with others in the past and with great success. Yet, somehow, the tables had turned. He scanned the script until he found the right question.

"Okay, okay! Let�s move on to this um�ability to supposedly see ghosts and things�"

"Clairvoyance!" Zodiac interjected.

"Whatever�! I want to see you demonstrate this so-called gift - here and now - with me for instance?" Harry needed to wrong foot him somehow and gain upper ground.

"You want me to give you a demonstration of TRUTH?"

"Excuse me, didn�t I just say that? Have you a problem with this?"

"No, none whatsoever�but you might. Do you know what you ask?"

"Do you know what you�re doing?" Harry felt he had him now.

"You want TRUTH�in front of all these people?"

"I said�YES!"

"Very well then but hear this: GOD IS NOT MOCKED!" The medium grew silent, closed his eyes and breathed steadily, attempting to �tune-in� to the other world.

"There is a woman and a girl with you now and they look very sad. The lady has a blue rinse, wearing pearls - a gift from you - a fur coat, red dress and matching shoes. She says she is your mother and she passed over with a brain tumor seven years ago. The girl is your sister, Prunella, who died of a drug overdose many years ago aged about seventeen. She tells me her life went downhill when she became a teenager, turning to stolen alcohol and then heroin, which she prostituted herself for. Am I correct so far?"

Harry nodded and smugly faced his followers and the cameras. He�d trapped the bastard at last and boy, was he going to enjoy this.

"Folks. Good people. I can�t deny it. Every single word of it was the absolute truth. What else can I say?" His audience cooed in awe and put their hands together in appreciation of this fine and impeccable display of spiritual communication. Harry waited until their enthusiasm abated, then yelled at the top of his voice:

"I CAN�T BELIEVE JUST HOW GULLIBLE YOU ALL ARE!" He shook his head and clicked his tongue patronizingly, "HE�S DUPED YOU AGAIN!!!" Sphincter gawped around the sea of faces taking pleasure at spotting various shades of pink and red. Time for an explanation, he decided:

"Every word�was indeed true�because every word was written by me - in my autobiography of which I�m sure, judging by the sales figures, you�ve all read! And, furthermore, there are a whole series of photographs depicting the same details of my mother�s description as the one�s he�s just given me. Again, I ask you�how stupid can people be? Der!" The presenter displayed an air of indignant posture that seemed to inflate his stature and put everyone to shame. The silence grew unbearable, until the medium spoke in those same edifying tones that he�d used all night:

"Your sister is telling me something that isn�t printed in your book."

"I beg your pardon!" Harry glared at the man.

"She�s telling me that you were the prime cause of her demise."

"She�s telling you what?"

"She�s telling me that when she became a teenager, you and your friends had your way with her."

"WHAT?" His mind raced.

"You and your drunken pals raped her thirteen times; once for each year! It was her birthday present, you told her."

"THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS!" Sphincter shook with anger, his face turning blood red. The audience was visibly and audibly shocked.

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND? I�LL TELL YOU NOW, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, FIRST THING TOMORROW, I WILL TALK TO MY LAWYERS WHO WILL THEN ISSUE A WRIT TO BE SERVED ON THIS PERSON IMMEDIATELY. I WILL SUE HIM FOR DAMAGES, DEFAMATION OF CHARACTER, SLANDER AND ANYTHING ELSE WE CAN THROW AT HIM - AND YOU�LL BE MY WITNESSES!"

"I, my friend, have nothing to lose�but you have much." The man turned not one hair.

"DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE TALKING TO?" Sphincter fumed. The floor manager looked up at the controlling booth to see the director indicating with hand gestures to go with it. His co-editor asked:

"What the hell�s gotten into him?"

"I don�t know," he answered, "but something�s grabbed his balls. Camera one, stick with Harry. Two and three pan the audience. Four, stay with the guest - we�ll do the rest. This is great stuff!"

"I HAVE CONNECTIONS ALL THE WAY TO THE WHITE HOUSE. I�LL HAVE YOU FLOGGED. HOW DARE YOU INSULT ME IN FRONT OF MY FANS - IN FRONT OF THE NATION!" Harry swept an arm across the camera�s field and carried on with his diatribe, "I�M A HIGHLY RESPECTED PILLAR OF AMERICAN SOCIETY AND I�VE PROBABLY DONE MORE FOR CHARITABLE CONCERNS IN ONE YEAR THAN YOU�VE DONE IN A LIFETIME!"

"You�re also an accomplished musician, are you not?" Smiled the healer.

"I�M A WHAT?"

"Oh�it�s just that you seem to blow your trumpet very well indeed!" The entire studio broke simultaneously into loud guffaws and rapturous mirth, everyone grateful to release the tension. The host lost his composure altogether. With eyes bulging from a now purple face, he bellowed:

"QUIET�! I SAID�BE QUIET!!!"

The silence that followed became almost deafening; the air pregnant, electrifying, filled with expectation. Sphincter gulped the oxygen into his lungs fighting to regain control of himself. With a shaking hand, he pointed rudely at the medium.

"I�I have done great works of good since I found fame and fortune. EVERYONE�everyone knows how my wife and I have opened our home and our hearts in fostering hundreds of no-hopers, giving each of them the opportunity of living a descent life!"

"A decent life?"

"YES! A decent start towards adulthood, a chance to make something of themselves!"

"And these children," the medium enquired with great dignity, "They were all little girls, were they not?"

"SO, WHAT IF THEY WERE?" Harry snorted through flared nostrils; a single bead of sweat itched at his left temple.

"Did you deem it your right to sexually abuse them also?"

"YOU ARE TREADING ON DANGEROUS GROUND, MISTER!"

"You have two, nine-year-old girls at your home now, have you not?"

The presenter lunged at the healer, but the floor manager and a crewmember grabbed him and held him back.

"Cool it, Harry," whispered the first man. Sphincter ignored him.

"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING, GOLDBERG?"

"I have a way for you to prove me wrong but if you deny my request, it will be considered an admission of guilt."

"GO ON!" The host was now desperate for a way out.

"Have the children examined by a pediatrician."

"Wha�WHAT?"

"I say to you�in front of the entire nation," the medium stood to face him, "Should these children be intimately examined, I can guarantee that traces of your personal DNA will be found where it should not be!"

Harry Sphincter realized at that very point he was doomed; he became oblivious to anything else. Trembling from head to toe, overtaken by an invisible ague, the full purport of his situation burned into his brain. All eyes were upon him as he twitched. He�d fallen into the perfect trap and didn�t even see it coming. Knees buckling, he sank to the floor, still in the grip of his cohorts. Fear wrenched at his guts, envisaging his past �victims� watching the show, no longer afraid, retaining their silence no more. He knew if the girls at his home were examined, he would be indicted on what would be found from that very morning. Glancing around him, he saw hearts filled with hatred aimed towards him. Already condemned without even a trial, his world had collapsed around him when he wasn�t even looking. He bowed his head.

"How�! How did you know all this?" All heard this confession.

"I knew nothing. But God knows everything. And that Divine Spark that knows all�is in you, and everyone else born to this world. When you challenged me, you inadvertently challenged the God within yourself."

"But�why?" Sphincter begged him, utterly defeated as the policemen took hold of his wrists, "Why, for God�s sake?"

"As I said, my friend. GOD IS NOT MOCKED!"
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Copyright © 2002 Stan A Fowler
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"