Before Breakfast
The early morning sun shines brightly when Samantha and Darrel answer their door. The two callers smile brightly and wave their clipboards.
“Hello!” Says the tall one.
“Hello!” Cries the other.
“Can I help you?” Asks Darrel.
“No, but we can help you! We’re Jehova’s bystanders!”
Darrel frowns. “I thought it was Jehova’s witnesses.”
“We weren’t looking!” Says one.
“Would you like to ascend bodily into heaven?” Asks the other.
Samantha raises an eyebrow. “You had better come in.”
The four crowd into the kitchen and Samantha puts the kettle on.
“Would you like some tea?”
“Yes! Thank you!” Cries the taller.
She opens high cupboards and brings out four mugs.
The shorter Bystander consults his clipboard.
“Let’s see here…Ah!” He smiles brightly.
“You are approved, Samantha Golding.”
“Approved?” She asks. “Do you take sugar?”
“Oh yes please! Two!” Cries the taller.
“THREE!” Tops the shorter.
“Ok.” She makes the tea.
“Yes. You have opted for our transferral scheme, leaves you pretty blameless.” The shorter Bystander reads the details from his red clipboard. The taller brushes back his fringe and smiles, his teeth ting.
“Good for you!”
Samantha is carrying the two mugs of tea to the table and sits them in front of the Bystanders.
Darrel is reading the paper.
“That’s nice.” She says. And ascends bodily into heaven.
The second pair of mugs falls to the floor with a crash and a splash.
Darrel jumps, tearing the paper.
“Oh!” He says.
“Oh yes!” Replies the taller Bystander.
Darrel carefully places the torn paper to one side. The taller Bystander sips his tea.
“Ooh!” It’s still too hot; he blows on it.
“Well.” Darrel says. “I suppose that is good.”
“Isn’t it?” The shorter Bystander dazzles him with a smile.
The taller consults his clipboard, taking another sip of his tea.
“Ah, you’re the benefactor of Samantha Golding’s transferral scheme, I see.”
“You do?” Darrel is quite confused.
“Yes.”
The shorter Bystander has noticed a bottle of whiskey on the countertop. He nods toward it.
“I don’t approve of that.” He says.
“It doesn’t approve of you” Darrel replies.
The bottle harumphs.
“Thank you for hearing what we have to say!” The Jehova’s Bystanders get to their feet.
“Wait!” Darrel says, and stands up. “What about me?”
“What about you?” Asks the taller, putting his mug into the sink. “Thank you for the tea, by the way.”
“Well. I’m not exactly blameless…”
“You can say that again.” Murmurs the short Bystander. He’s chewing the lid of his pen and reading the clipboard with wide eyes.
“But…I did take the blame for Sam. Doesn’t that count for something?”
The taller Bystander strokes his chin. “It was a pretty selfless act…”
“Yeah.” Encourages Darrel.
“Wait!” Cries the shorter.
“Wait what?” Cries Darrel.
“If we take you to heaven your act would no longer be selfless!”
The taller nods. “It says so in the bible.”
“Oh no!” Cries the shorter and explodes in a glittering bloom of paradox.
The taller, slightly slower on the uptake, explodes right after, leaving Darrel alone in the kitchen with his torn newspaper and broken mugs.
He sits back down in his chair and pulls the shorter Bystander’s untouched tea toward him. Around him the after effects of human existence flutter down in the morning light.
“Oh.” He says. Then: “I suppose that’s that then.”
He grabs the bottle of whiskey and unscrews the lid. It ogles him disapprovingly.
“There is only one thing more cliché than drinking with friends, you know.” Says Darrel, and he pours a shot of whiskey into his tea.
“And what is that pray?” Asks the bottle, with noticeable sarcasm.
“Drinking alone.” Says Darrel, and takes a sip of the tea.
It’s too sweet.
“Hello!” Says the tall one.
“Hello!” Cries the other.
“Can I help you?” Asks Darrel.
“No, but we can help you! We’re Jehova’s bystanders!”
Darrel frowns. “I thought it was Jehova’s witnesses.”
“We weren’t looking!” Says one.
“Would you like to ascend bodily into heaven?” Asks the other.
Samantha raises an eyebrow. “You had better come in.”
The four crowd into the kitchen and Samantha puts the kettle on.
“Would you like some tea?”
“Yes! Thank you!” Cries the taller.
She opens high cupboards and brings out four mugs.
The shorter Bystander consults his clipboard.
“Let’s see here…Ah!” He smiles brightly.
“You are approved, Samantha Golding.”
“Approved?” She asks. “Do you take sugar?”
“Oh yes please! Two!” Cries the taller.
“THREE!” Tops the shorter.
“Ok.” She makes the tea.
“Yes. You have opted for our transferral scheme, leaves you pretty blameless.” The shorter Bystander reads the details from his red clipboard. The taller brushes back his fringe and smiles, his teeth ting.
“Good for you!”
Samantha is carrying the two mugs of tea to the table and sits them in front of the Bystanders.
Darrel is reading the paper.
“That’s nice.” She says. And ascends bodily into heaven.
The second pair of mugs falls to the floor with a crash and a splash.
Darrel jumps, tearing the paper.
“Oh!” He says.
“Oh yes!” Replies the taller Bystander.
Darrel carefully places the torn paper to one side. The taller Bystander sips his tea.
“Ooh!” It’s still too hot; he blows on it.
“Well.” Darrel says. “I suppose that is good.”
“Isn’t it?” The shorter Bystander dazzles him with a smile.
The taller consults his clipboard, taking another sip of his tea.
“Ah, you’re the benefactor of Samantha Golding’s transferral scheme, I see.”
“You do?” Darrel is quite confused.
“Yes.”
The shorter Bystander has noticed a bottle of whiskey on the countertop. He nods toward it.
“I don’t approve of that.” He says.
“It doesn’t approve of you” Darrel replies.
The bottle harumphs.
“Thank you for hearing what we have to say!” The Jehova’s Bystanders get to their feet.
“Wait!” Darrel says, and stands up. “What about me?”
“What about you?” Asks the taller, putting his mug into the sink. “Thank you for the tea, by the way.”
“Well. I’m not exactly blameless…”
“You can say that again.” Murmurs the short Bystander. He’s chewing the lid of his pen and reading the clipboard with wide eyes.
“But…I did take the blame for Sam. Doesn’t that count for something?”
The taller Bystander strokes his chin. “It was a pretty selfless act…”
“Yeah.” Encourages Darrel.
“Wait!” Cries the shorter.
“Wait what?” Cries Darrel.
“If we take you to heaven your act would no longer be selfless!”
The taller nods. “It says so in the bible.”
“Oh no!” Cries the shorter and explodes in a glittering bloom of paradox.
The taller, slightly slower on the uptake, explodes right after, leaving Darrel alone in the kitchen with his torn newspaper and broken mugs.
He sits back down in his chair and pulls the shorter Bystander’s untouched tea toward him. Around him the after effects of human existence flutter down in the morning light.
“Oh.” He says. Then: “I suppose that’s that then.”
He grabs the bottle of whiskey and unscrews the lid. It ogles him disapprovingly.
“There is only one thing more cliché than drinking with friends, you know.” Says Darrel, and he pours a shot of whiskey into his tea.
“And what is that pray?” Asks the bottle, with noticeable sarcasm.
“Drinking alone.” Says Darrel, and takes a sip of the tea.
It’s too sweet.