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CHAPTER I

Her name was Miss Aphrodite Dea Tea, and she and her pet unicorn were playing their favorite game together, which they called “Mousquetaire.”  This game was like a sword-fighting game between the mistress with her rod and the unicorn with his horn.  And the sole object to this Mousquetaire was too see how quickly the pet unicorn could break his mistress’s rod with his unicorn horn.  They were together now, playing thus in the back of Aphrodite’s one hundred acres, where the four little sand dunes were amid the tall field grass.  And woman and pet were not at all careful in this game; they did play with reckless abandon, both players swinging their weapons wildly and most aggressively, the woman aiming for the horn, and the unicorn aiming for the rod.  Clack!  The rod and the horn collided

hard.  “Stables,” Aphrodite called out to her unicorn, “it did not break.”

“It did hurt my head a little below the base of my unicorn horn, Mistress,” called out Stables.

“And my right wrist does now sting,” said his mistress.

Whack!  Rod and horn crashed against each other again.  Yet again Aphrodite’s rod was not broken.  Stables said, “That one did not hurt, Mistress.”

“My hand feels all right, Stables,” said Aphrodite.

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Bang!  Rod and unicorn horn smashed into each other a third time.  Behold, Aphrodite’s rod broken cleanly into two pieces.  The top half broke off and fell to the sand dune.  The bottom half was still held at its base in the mistress’s right hand.

“Yes!” called out Stables in victory.

“The third time is the charm,” said Aphrodite.

“It took me three tries that time, O Mistress,’ said Stables.

“It is still a good thing that I got lots of these,” said Aphrodite, pointing to a wooden bin full of such rods for Mousquetaire.

“Tomato stakes,” said wise Stables, looking at the bin.

“And I do not like tomatoes, and I do not grow tomatoes,” said Aphrodite Tea.

“Our game with tomato stakes is more fun for my mistress than growing tomato plants with tomato stakes,” said Stables in truth and in tease.

“But I do like tomato soup,” said Aphrodite.

“Yes, tomato soup and grilled cheese, my mistress,’ said Stables in more truth and more tease.

“You should talk, Stables,” said Aphrodite.  “You do not care for corned beef, but you like to eat Reuben sandwiches.”

“En garde, Mistress,” urged Stables a return to their game.

“Touché, Stables,” said Aphrodite, returning to their game.

She then pulled out another little rod from the bin, and they resumed Mousquetaire.  With a roundhouse right, the mistress swung the stake toward the horn, and with a roundhouse right in like did the unicorn swing his horn toward the stake.

  Crack!  Behold, the rod was broken this time right off into three separate pieces.  Startled, but not wounded, Aphrodite let fall the little piece yet in her hands down to the sand dune.  Three pieces of rod now lay upon the ground which had just a moment ago been a whole little rod.  The mistress was

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duly impressed at her Stables.  “Why, Stables,” she said, “this time with one stroke you broke one rod into three.”

“Last time with three strokes I broke one rod into two, my mistress,” said Stables.

“How’s your head after that?” asked Aphrodite.

“My head feels well.  My neck is a little sore, though,” said Stables.  “How’s your arm, Mistress?”

“I don’t feel wounded any.  But my fingers do tingle a lit with a little bit of numbness.” said Aphrodite in their fun and rough game.

“You could have gotten hurt, Mistress,’ said her unicorn with a grin on his countenance.

“Why, I could have gotten killed,” said Aphrodite Dea Tea with a most broad grin.  And mistress and pet laughed right out loud together.

Aphrodite then pulled out a third tomato stake rod from her bin, and they played more Mousquetaire together.

Pop!  Behold, a scarce and negligible little notch broke off of the end and fell to the sand.

“What is that, Mistress?” called forth the mighty unicorn.  “Did I do that?”

“I can hardly see it, Stables,” said Aphrodite.  This notch broken off the tip must have been a scant one inch in cube.

“A unicorn like myself can do much better than that,” said Stables.

“Yes, a unicorn like yourself can do much better than that, Stables,” reiterated his comical mistress.

“How do you think that something like that happened?” he asked her.

“We must be standing too far away from each other,” said his mistress Aphrodite.

“Shall we step closer, O Mistress?” asked her unicorn.

“Let us both take one step closer to each other,” said Aphrodite.  The two players each now took

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one step closer toward each other.  And they swung their weapons left to right this time.

Snap!  Lo, this time very nearly all the rest of the mistress’s rod broke off unto the very midst of her hand, and this great big long piece of rod fell down upon the little sand dune.

“Mistress,” her unicorn cheered himself,  “this time I broke off the biggest piece of rod yet.”

“Oh, but Stables—look at the piece you left behind in my hand,” said Aphrodite with a smirk.

She opened her right hand and showed him what was on her open palm.  He gazed upon what she was showing him, and he said, “Why, that’s a real little notch!”

“The same size real little notch as the one that you had broken off on your end with the first crash of this rod,” said Aphrodite.

“I think that we got too close to each other this time, Mistress,” said the unicorn.

“That time it could have been my neck,” said Aphrodite.

“Or my mane,” her unicorn bragged on his handsomeness.

“Nobody better tear a hair of your mane, Stables,” said his mistress.  Aphrodite then reached down and picked up the first notch and held it next to the second notch.  Indeed were they the same size.  Stables picked up the great big piece in his teeth and lifted it off of the sand dunes and focused on it with his equine eyes.  He tried to break this piece now with his teeth, but could not.  His horn was mightier than his jaw.  Then he dropped it back upon the sandy ground.  And Aphrodite let fall her two notches of rod upon the sand as well.  “Shall we play again tomorrow, O Stables?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress.  Let’s play our game again tomorrow,” he said.

And mistress and pet then sat down in one of these sand dunes to chat together about things in their lives here in the countryside.  Today, as in every day for Aphrodite, she had on what she called “my Debbie Gibson outfit.”  Aphrodite Dea Tea was a most avid fan of the pop rock teen singer, and she dressed kind of how Debbie Gibson dressed at eighteen years of age.  Aphrodite had on this day a nice black dress hat and a black long-sleeved cotton blouse and a black denim ladies’ vest with metal

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buttons buttoned up and a black denim ladies’ skirt with a black leather belt and three flounces of black lace reaching to her knees, and a pair of ladies’ black leather boots reaching to her knees.  This most avid fan of Debbie Gibson was a woman of twenty-five years of age.

“Mistress,” said Stables, “once again your Debbie Gibson hat did not fall off of your head in our games here in the sand today.”

“I am not ‘Mistress,’” said Aphrodite.  “I am ‘Debbie Gibson.’”

“Deborah Ann Gibson,” said her unicorn, playing along with his mistress.

“Now that’s what she calls herself,” confessed Aphrodite.  “She’s older now and more mature.”

“Miss Gibson is pretty even to me, my mistress, and I am just a unicorn,” said Stables.

“She’s pretty to me, and I am just another woman like herself,” said Aphrodite.

“Your boyfriend kind of likes Debbie, too,” said her pet unicorn.

“Yeah, but he likes me a lot more than he does her,” said Aphrodite.

“That’s because you are a brunette, and she is a blonde,” said Stables.

Aphrodite Dea Tea indeed had most ravishing hair of brown, with bangs, quite straight, and reaching down below her shoulders all about her beautiful head.  Her eyes were as vivaciously brown as her hair.  And she was of a most delightfully feminine build for a girl.  And her precious boyfriend always told her that her name “Aphrodite” was a most appropriate name for her in her goddess-like beauty in his eyes.

Stables said, “Your star Debbie Gibson is a great singer, Mistress.”

And Aphrodite said, “I am a singer, too.  But I am no Debbie Gibson when it comes singing a great song.”

“Do you still think that Miss Gibson is a better singer than you, O Mistress?” asked her pet

unicorn.

“Oh yes, Stables,” said his mistress.  “She’s much better than I am.”

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“Miss Gibson was born in New York City back in 1970.  Wasn’t she, my mistress?”  asked her best friend Stables.

“Yes, Stables,” said Aphrodite.  “August 31, 1970 to be exact.  In Brooklyn at that. You know it.”

“And the girl is five feet six inches tall,” said the unicorn.

“You know it, O unicorn!” said Aphrodite.

“How much, Mistress, do you think Miss Gibson weighs?” asked Stables.

“Never ask a woman her weight, Stables,” said Aphrodite.

“I thought that it was her age of which a person never asks a girl,” said the unicorn.

“It is both,” said Aphrodite.

“Your Miss Gibson grew up in Merrill, New York somewhere,” said Stables.

“And she graduated from Calhoun High School with honors,” said Aphrodite.  “You know her!”

“And she went to her high school’s senior prom,” said Stables.

“You know her like I know her,” said Aphrodite.

“My real neat mistress tells me about her all the time,” praised the unicorn his owner.

“Miss Gibson’s singing career might have been at its peak when she went to her prom,” said Aphrodite Dea Tea.  “And she did not want to intrude on the evening of this prom. So she promised to go to the prom only if the disc jockey promised her not to play any of her songs during this prom.”

“She is a class act, Mistress,” praised the unicorn this singer of his mistress’s.

“This woman is good, Stables,” praised the fan her star.

“Mistress, may I get my combing for the day right now?” asked her unicorn.

“You like to be combed,” said Aphrodite.

“You brought your purse to these sand dunes,” said Stables.  “Usually my comb is in your purse.”

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“Yes, Stables.  In the important compartment,” said Aphrodite.

“The one in the front with the brass buckle,” said her unicorn.

She looked and found it.  “Ah, Stables.  The brass comb,” she did say.

“Do go and comb my white mane first, Mistress,” asked Stables.

“Then your white tail after that?” asked his knowing mistress their ritual.

“Yes, my mane first; my tail second,” he said in a groan of anticipation and contentment.  Aphrodite began to comb her stately and majestic white unicorn, and he groaned louder now in anticipation fulfilled and contentment given.  And the mistress combed and combed as the two shared

the peacefulness of silence.  Then the white mane was all better now from the wild game of Mousquetaire, and the tail was as good as new again for Stables.

“Now your white wings next, boy?” asked Aphrodite in endearment.

“Yes!  Yes!” said Stables in excitement.  “Both of them if you would.  My white wings are always third in our combings, my mistress.”

And in togetherness amid reticence, Aphrodite went on to comb her unicorn’s most full and lengthy wings of white.  And he positively purred like a cat.

Then the mistress began to comb the rest of him.  And she began again to talk about her real cute boyfriend.  “That Flanders is a real hunk,” she said to Stables.

“And he thinks of you as a siren, Mistress,” said her unicorn.

“I feel bad though for what he is,” she said.

“He is a born-again Christian,” said Stables.  And with instinct of unicorns he told his mistress. “But that is a most good thing for a man to be.”

“Good for him, maybe.  But bad for me,” she said.  “It is hard for a girl to have any fun with a boyfriend who talks about Jesus all the time like Flanders does.”

“He lives like Jesus, O mistress,” said wise Stables.

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“Yeah!  Yeah!  He does,” said disgruntled Aphrodite.  “And he will not go and touch my hair,”

“Do women like their men to stroke their hair?” asked her unicorn.

“This woman does.  If he would ever let himself go and do that for me,” said Aphrodite.

“I’ve seen the both of you get into fights over that,” said Stables.

“He won’t touch my hair, because he thinks that his Jesus would be disappointed in him if he did do that for me,” said Aphrodite.

“You should maybe think about not disappointing God, also, I do kind of think, Mistress,” said

the he-unicorn.

“I don’t even know this Jesus,” said Aphrodite.  “But my Flanders knows all about Him.  He seems to have a personal relationship with the Lord Jesus.  And he says that I need the same thing.”

“He asked you if you would go to church with him.” said Stables.

“And I said, ‘No,’” said the girl.

“He asked you if you would join him in Bible study at his place,” said Stables.

“And I said, ‘No,’” said the unicorn mistress.

“And he asked you if you would join him at prayer meeting in his living room,” said Stables.

“And I said, ‘No,’” said the unsaved girl.

“And you keep asking him if you and he could make out and go and touch each other’s hair, O

Mistress,” said her unicorn confidant.

“And he said, ‘No,’” said the discouraged lost woman.  “He always tells me, ‘Aphrodite, it is written, “…:  It is good for a man not to touch a woman.”  I Corinthians 7;1.’”

“What do you say then?” asked Stables.

“Then I tell him, ‘Not even just my hair?’” she said.  “And he says, ‘Aphrodite, Aphrodite—especially your hair!’”

“I think that he has a major crush on your hair, Mistress, as he does all the rest of you,” said

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her winged unicorn.

“Do you really think so?” asked Aphrodite.

“I think that he does want to feel your hair, even for just a moment,” said Stables.

“I don’t know.” she said.  “He gets so adamant.  It is like what I want from him as boyfriend gets farther and farther away the more I ask him to do that for me.”

“Flanders is a good man.  He is holy.  He loves his Saviour first of all,” said wise Stables.

“He does always flirt with my brown hair with words,” said Aphrodite.

“See, Mistress?  See?” asked Stables.  “He wants it.”

“Real bad, Stables?” asked Aphrodite now with hopes.

“Time will tell,” said Stables.

Aphrodite reflected upon these words with her woman’s heart for a long while.  Then she said, “Now Flanders found a new way to say, ‘No,’ to me with words from the Bible.”

“Another Bible verse?” asked her unicorn.

“I think so,” she said.

“How does it go, my mistress?” asked Stables.

“Something about being ‘unequally yoked together,’” she said.

“Is that bad?” asked her unicorn friend.

“He makes it sound not bad for me, but very bad for him, Stables,” she did say.

“What’s it mean–’unequally yoked together?’” asked Stables.

“Flanders says that that is when a Christian boyfriend dates an unchristian girlfriend,” said Aphrodite Dea Tea.  “Flanders says that he is living in sin against his God by still dating me.  And I am afraid that I might lose all the rest of him to God.  Stables, I would be so lonely if Flanders left me.  He loves Jesus so much that it is like he would do anything for Him—even running off on me after all our years together as boyfriend-and-girlfriend.”

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“Does Flanders’s God see this unequal yoke as working the other way, Mistress?” asked Stables.

“Do you mean as when a Christian woman dates a non-christian man?” asked his mistress.

“Yes, Mistress.  That,” said Stables.

“Yes.  Very much so, Stables,” said Aphrodite.

“What do you think that you might do?” asked Stables.

“I might have to quit tempting him with all of my hair,” said Aphrodite.

“But then you might never get to stroke each other’s hair,” said her unicorn.

“Then what good would my dating life with the man be?” complained the unsaved girlfriend.

“My poor mistress…caught between Scylla and Charidbus,” lamented her sympathetic best friend.

“He is so kind to me otherwise,” said the lost woman.

“Your Flanders Nickels is a gentleman,” said her unicorn.

“Whenever we eat together—whether at his house or at my house—before he sits down to eat, he always pulls out the dining room table chair for me.  When he and I ride you—either on the ground or in the air—he always makes sure that I am first upon your back and that I am safe and secure; then he mounts you after I am all settled.  And he buys me many nice things with an income not much above poverty level.  And though they are not expensive things, he knows what to get his girlfriend that makes her happy far beyond the price tag.  There was that pork steak that he gave me on my birthday that he went and grilled out just for me;  he and I both love pork steak more than we like steak; and that day he went without just so I could have the whole thing for myself.”

“That day, Flanders did not have enough money to buy himself a pork steak, too, O Mistress,” said Stables remembering her birthday celebration of that day.

“And there was that time that he bought me a box of mocha melt-away chocolates because I

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decided that it was too cold for me to go outside and leave the house,” said Aphrodite Dea Tea.  “He could not afford them himself, but he went out into the winter on foot for me to go to the candy store and back with my precious coffee chocolates.  And the whole next two weeks he worked through his lunch hours at work to pay for them on a charge with the candy store.”

“And that Christmas card you wanted that he got for you, my mistress,” said her unicorn pet.

“It was almost a dollar, but it took him four weeks to find it for me,” Aphrodite bragged on her Christian boyfriend.  “He looked everywhere, store-to-store, catalog-to-catalog, even advertising for it as wanted in newspapers and magazines and signs.”

“It was not a Christmas card that you saw somewhere, but rather a Christmas card that you dreamed about in your sleep, Mistress,” said Stables.

“Though my boyfriend can write great prose, he cannot draw even a caricature,” said Aphrodite.

“And he found the closest thing to my dream Christmas card in a reply from Northerner’s Greeting Cards Company.”

“What a Christmas card just right for you, O Mistress,” said Stables.

“Complete with white unicorns and the lyrics to my favorite carol, ‘I Saw Three Ships,’ and pretty, young Debbie Gibson herself in a dress that her mom had made for her,” said Aphrodite Dea Tea.

“I think that Flanders might love you, O Mistress,” said Stables.

“And I think that I love Flanders, too,” said Aphrodite.  She wondered secretly inside if she would be able to love him a lot more if he would regularly just let himself loose a little bit and run

his young man’s hand down her young woman’s hair.

“Do you love me, too, my mistress?” asked Stables.

“Oh, I do, Stables.  I do love you,” said Aphrodite.

“And I love you, too, Mistress,” said Stables.

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“Shall we go back to the house now, good Stables?” asked Aphrodite.

“I feel too hot this day now after all of this fun in these sand dunes,” he said.

“And in all this sand, my hat is making my head all hot now in this sun,” said Aphrodite.

“Shall we go back by land or by sky, O my mistress?” asked her winged unicorn.

“Let us go back the way we came,” she said.

“Ah, by land,” he said.  “Hop onto my back, and I will run like the wind across your hundred acres back to the house.”

She mounted good and fleet Stables after this happy day together, and with the godspeed of an equine, he galloped back to the house, carrying his mistress back to the front yard once again.  It had been a blessed day for mistress and unicorn once again there at the four little sand dunes of the deep backyard.

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CHAPTER II

“Mane,” said the young lady by the slaughter house, “do come over here and listen to me.”

“I am busy at my trough, my mistress,” said Mane.

“I can see that you are feasting on yak and buffalo again today,” said the mistress.

“I thank you for my yak and my buffalo today, Mistress,” said her pet.

“But I wanted to tell you about my favorite star, Mane,” she said.

“I know who she is,” said Mane at the trough.  “It is…”  And he mumbled the celebrity’s name incoherently.

“Mane, don’t talk with your mouth full,” said his mistress.  “I can’t understand you.”

Her carnivore pet then swallowed his bite, and he said coherently now.  “It is Lilia Podkopayeva.”

His mistress then bragged on him saying, “Not every mistress gets to have a talking lion for a pet, O Mane.”

“Not every lion has a mistress who does women’s gymnastics as you do,” said Mane.

This lion mistress’s name was Bitsy, and at scarcely five feet in height, she was truly bitsy

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as a young lady.  But her short stature enabled her to excel at women’s gymnastics, even now at twenty-five years of age, well past the prime for a woman gymnast and her career.  Her full name was Miss Bitsy Shea Windemereshire.  And this woman gymnast dressed daily in the same women’s gymnastics leotard that her woman gymnast star Lilia Podkopayeva dressed in during the Olympics that one Olympiad long ago.  And Bitsy Windemereshire had it on again now in her get-together with Mane at his trough.  This women’s gymnastics leotard had long sleeves, a tri-color chevron pattern down the front, and was good and comfortable for Bitsy to have on.  At the top of this leotard was a V-stripe of red.  Below that was a V-stripe of white.  Below that was a wide V-stripe of dark blue with white dots.  Below that was a V-stripe of white again.  And below that was a V-stripe of red again.  These were the stripes running down the front of her women’s gymnastics leotard in its classic chevron pattern.  As for the long sleeves of this vintage Olympic gymnastics leotard, along the top of each, from

shoulder to wrist, was dark blue with with white dots; and along the bottom of each, from shoulder to wrist, was white.

Bitsy, standing there beside the slaughter house wherein she had prepared hungry Mane’s dinner today, held out her arms and gazed upon the leotard cuffs along her wrists.

Her pet lion looked up from his eating and saw her thus.  “You are not admiring yourself, O Mistress,” he said knowingly.  “You are admiring your outfit.”

“Yeah,” she said in verbal thoughts.  “I don’t think that I would look good to any man if I were dressed in anything else not at all like this.”

“Your Christian boyfriend loves you dressed in that, Mistress,” said her lion Mane.

“I am a woman gymnast, and he is my greatest fan,” she said.  “I’ve got such a crush on him, O Mane.  He is the cutest man any woman gymnast ever had for a boyfriend.”

“He is handsome to you, Mistress,” said Mane.

“I tell you, if he thinks that I am attractive, I think all the more he is attractive to me!” she

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bragged on her man friend’s handsomeness.

“He’s just as petite and short as you, my mistress, but his strength as a man still surpasses your strength as a woman,” said Mane.

“Proffery and I are both only five feet tall,” said Bitsy.  “But I could never carry in those meat boxes into this slaughter house for your meals like he does for me all the time.”

“It was Proffery who helped you with this meat I have in my trough right now, my mistress.  Wasn’t it?” asked Mane.

“Good and kind Proffery carried in those big boxes of yak and of buffalo into this slaughter house for me to cut up and prepare for you, good and hungry Mane,” said Bitsy Windemereshire.

“Praise the Lord for good Proffery, O Mistress,” said the lion, giving glory to Proffery’s God.

“I never did that before,” said Miss Windemereshire.

“Praise God for your boyfriend?” queried Mane.

“Praise God for anything,” answered the lion mistress.

“Proffery always does things like that whenever he comes around here for all of his dates with you,” said Mane.

“Yeah.  I know,” said Bitsy.  “It really does get to me when he’s always talking that way about

his Jesus.”

“He says that he is saved,” said Mane in approval.

“And he says that I am unsaved,” said Bitsy in offense.

“More than that, my mistress.  Proffery says that you are lost,” said wise Mane.

“He is a born-again believer,” said Bitsy in disapproval.  “And I am not a born-again believer.”

Then she said, “That makes it hard for a woman like myself.”

“Does that not also make it hard for a man like himself?” asked the lion in thoughts out loud.

“He still won’t give in and give me our first kiss, Mane!” cried out Bitsy.  “Is that fair?”

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“Fair or not fair, he is afraid to disappoint his Heavenly Father by giving his girlfriend a quick little kiss, I would surmise, my lonely mistress,” said Mane.

“I want a hundred times to kiss Proffery, and Proffery does not want even one time to kiss me,”

said Bitsy, feeling sorry for herself.

“Oh, but Mistress, I’d bet he does!” exclaimed her pet lion.

“Hm!” said Bitsy Windemereshire at this, not knowing what to say to this.

“Women gymnasts like to kiss in their gymnastics leotards, Mistress, if all women gymnasts are  like you,” said Mane.

“I wonder what Lilia Podkopayeva would think if she were here listening to her greatest fan talk like this,” said Bitsy.

“You told me that she is only five feet one inch tall,” said her pet lion.

“One inch taller than myself and one inch taller than my boyfriend,” said Miss Windemereshire.

“Five feet tall,” said Mane in reiteration of his mistress.

“Five feet short,” said Bitsy, playing along in a game of words with her beloved pet lion.

“Four feet twelve inches,” said Mane in nonsense.

“Six feet negative twelve inches,” the gymnast girl went on to say about herself in equally utter

nonsense.  And lion and mistress laughed together in merriment.

“You women gymnasts are all short girls,” said Mane.

“Oh, but Mane, we are not too short,” said Bitsy about to say her favorite short person joke again.

Playing along with his mistress again, Mane asked, “Why are you women gymnasts not too short?”

“Because our legs reach all the way to the ground,” she said.  “Ha ha ha!”

“Ha ha ha!” said Mane.  “I heard it before, Mistress.”

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“Ha ha ha!  And I told it before,” said Bitsy.

And the lion grinned at her, and she grinned back at the lion.

“I wish Proffery were here with us right now, Mane,” said Bitsy.

“We make a good threesome on your dates,” said Mane.

“I am so glad that he likes you lots, Mane,” said Bitsy.

“And I like him lots,” said Mane.

“He looks up to you,” said Bitsy.

“Mistress,” began her pet lion.

“Yes, Mane?” asked Bitsy.

“Are you happy with Proffery as your boyfriend?” the lion asked her a hard question.

“I wonder if he is happy with me as his girlfriend,” conjectured the gymnast girl.

“Those three words that he keeps telling you that he said are from God, O Mistress,” said Mane.

“Three words right from the Bible,” she said in sorrow.

“Unequally yoked together,” Mane said those three words.

“Proffery told me how God does see him as unequally yoked together with me,” said the woman lost in her sins.  “I think that maybe God tells him to break up with me.  But he won’t.  He loves me.  And he does not want to give me up—even for his Lord Jesus.  That’s bad.  Isn’t it?  Not

listening to God and not doing what He says.”

“What do you think that God might do if your born-again boyfriend keeps on like this, Mistress?” asked Mane in warning.

“Maybe He might so something bad to Proffery,” said Bitsy.

“Are you afraid?” asked Mane.

“The only thing I am afraid of right now, Mane, is losing Proffery out of my life,” said Miss Windemereshire.  I love him as my boyfriend, even if he does do these odd things all the time that don’t

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make any sense to a woman like myself.”

“Odd things, Mistress,” said Mane, understanding what she was talking about.  “Bible reading every evening.  Prayer every night.  Being at his Baptist church every time the doors are open.  And all the things he draws sketches about—Bible verses and Bible people and the Lord Jesus Christ.  What he always sketches either offends you or convicts you, my Mistress.”

“Everything Proffery draws is all about Christ,” said Bitsy in offense.

“You do not care for Christ, O Mistress,” said Mane.

“Not at all,” said foolish Bitsy.  “Proffery would be the perfect boyfriend if he did not have Christ so much in his life in all things.”

“God rebuke you, Mistress,” wise Mane chastised her.

“Rebuke received and forgotten,” said wicked Bitsy in contention against Proffery’s Jesus and her pride hurt by Mane’s utterance.

“Jesus is Good,” said Mane, defending the Lord even against his own mistress.

“Declaration heard and forgotten, Mane,” said the woman who ever resisted Jesus.

“Are you angry with me now, Mistress?” asked Mane.

“Not anymore, best friend,” she said,  “If I listen to Proffery warn me about things of the Bible, and I do not get mad at him, surely I can do the same with you, who have been in my life longer, O good Mane.”

“Kiss me, Mistress,” asked Mane.

And Bitsy leaned her head and kissed her lion on his head.  “Kiss me, Mane,” asked his mistress.  And the lion raised his head and kissed his mistress on her cheek with his tongue.

Then Mane asked her again in great cares, “Are you happy when you are with Proffery, my

mistress?”

And she quickly remembered all the things in which Proffery was very good for her.  And she

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said, “He goes and sees me compete in every one of my gymnastics meets!  What a guy to do that for his gal! He’s a keeper!”

“Proffery loves to see his girlfriend do gymnastics tricks in her gymnastics leotard,” said her lion, summing all this up in one sentence.

“I love to do gymnastics tricks for my boyfriend if it turns him on so,” said the woman in her wiles.

“You do so beguile the man that way, Mistress,” said the lion about lithe and supple young Miss

Windemereshire.

“That’s what he tells me, Mane, whenever I am in my gymnastics leotards on our dates together.” said Bitsy.  “He says, ‘You beguile me in that!’”

“You are Proffery’s ‘beguiler,’” said Mane.

“To him, all of us gymnasts with long sleeves, are beguilers,” said Bitsy.

“Then that must make you his ‘beguiler of beguilers,’ my mistress,” said her pet lion.

“I can’t help noticing at all of my gymnastics competitions that he never turns away from me to watch any of the other women gymnasts out there,” said Bitsy Shea Windemereshire.

“Your Christian boyfriend is loyal and faithful, Mistress,” said Mane.

“I know one thing about godly Proffery.  He will never run away from me with another woman,” said Bitsy.  “Good Christian boyfriends like Proffery will never cheat on their girlfriends.”

“I wonder if the gymnast Lilia Podkopayeva has a boyfriend,” said the pet lion.

“If she does, he probably likes what he sees in her with her gymnastics leotard on,” said Bitsy.

“Does Proffery know what your Lilia looks like yet?” asked Mane.

“Uh huh.  I showed him pictures.  He and I look through all my International Gymnast magazines lots on very many of our dates here,” said Bitsy.

“You showed me her in those magazines also,” said her lion pet.

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“What do you think?” asked Bitsy.

“Her leotard was red and white and blue, and yet it was not stars and stripes,” said Mane.  Lion and mistress looked upon Bitsy’s very same leotard of these days years after Lilia’s days in International Gymnast.

“What did you think?” asked Bitsy.

“It was kind of like seeing you, but it was a different woman than my mistress,” said Mane.  “What did Proffery think?”

“He likes Miss Podkopayeva, too.  He told me that she looks sexy in my leotard.  But he told me that I look both beautiful and sexy in my leotard,” said Bitsy Windemereshire.

“Yours was Lilia’s technically before it was yours,” said her lion friend.

“Hers might have been one size larger than mine is,” said Bitsy.

“Just because of one inch taller in height?” asked Mane.

“Yeah, Mane.  I am a bitsy,” said Bitsy.

“Do men prefer their girlfriends to be short?” asked Mane.

“I don’t know,” said Bitsy.  “But Proffery told me that I am the first girl that never had to look down on him.”

“Only a gymnast woman has a boyfriend that never has to look up to her,” said Mane.

“She was a Ukrainian,” said Bitsy.  “Lilia Podkopayeva was from the country of Ukraine.”

“That is kind of like Russia,” said her lion. “Or maybe the Soviet Union.”

“She was born in Daneish, Ukraine,” said Lilia’s greatest fan.  “August 15, 1978.”

“This woman gymnast, you told me, had two nicknames,” said Mane.

“Yes.  Translating these two nicknames into English, they were ‘LilyPad’ and ‘Golden Lily,’”

said Bitsy.

“And Lilia Podkopayeva’s middle name which I can never remember.  It is long, and it is

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very Russian, and I forgot,” said Mane.

“It is ‘Oleksandrivna,’” said Bitsy.  “That is her middle name.”

“She must be hardly a hundred pounds dripping wet, Mistress,” said the he-lion.  “Pixie!”

“Oh, less than that,” said Bitsy, knowing her star.

“Less?” asked Mane.  His mistress nodded her head.  “Elf!” he said in reference to her tininess.

“Lilia Oleksandrivna Podkopayeva weighs ninety-three pounds,” said Bitsy.

“What a little fairy!” said big Mane.

“And indeed the best woman gymnast of her time,” said Bitsy.

“She was the champion of the 1996 Atlanta Olympics!” said Mane, knowing all this because he had a gymnast for a mistress.

“The gold medal for the all-around women’s individual artistic gymnastics competition, O Mane!” said Miss Windemereshire.  “That is the most celebrated gold medal of any summer Olympics

at every Olympiad!  She was famous worldwide because of that.”

“Is she no longer so famous now?” asked Mane.

“No so famous now.  She has been retired now for some many years,” said Bitsy.  “Several summer Olympics have come and gone since her days, and there have been others who have earned the

prestigious gold medal of women’s gymnastics since then.”

“You have videos of Miss Podkopayeva performing her gymnastics tricks, O Mistress,” said

Mane.

“From all throughout her career beginning to ending,” said Bitsy.

“Both VHS and DVD,” said Mane.

“That’s what I have my VCR and my DVD player for,” said his mistress.  “Proffery and I have fun dates in my living room watching her perform on my TV.”

“The vault and the uneven parallel bars and the balance beam and the floor routine,” said her

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best lion friend.

“Proffery and I love to see Miss Podkopayeva win the gold medal in the floor routine in those 1996 Atlanta Olympics over and over again,” said Bitsy.

“The floor routine is your favorite gymnastics routine to perform, Mistress,” said Mane.

“And the floor routine is Proffery’s favorite women’s gymnastics routine to see me perform,” said Bitsy.

“It must excite him as a guy to watch the floor routine,” said Mane.

“He always says that that is way more exciting than watching the women dancers in the TV show ‘Dancing With the Stars,’” said the woman gymnast.

“You’ve got a prize of a guy for a boyfriend, Mistress,” said Mane.  “Don’t let him go.”

“I will dance my best floor routines for my guy for the rest of my life,” said Bitsy.  “And I will beguile his heart sure and true.  And someday he will give me one quick little kiss.”

“I would bet my status as a lion that Proffery never once thought about kissing Miss Podkopayeva, my mistress,” said the he-lion.

“My my, Mane.  What are you telling me?” asked naive Bitsy.

“He wants to kiss you only, my mistress,” said knowledgeable Mane.

“No!” she said.

“I think so,” said Mane.

“Really?” she asked.

“I think so,” said Mane.

“Yes,” she said with first hopes.

“I think so,” said Mane.

“I shall wait,” said Bitsy Shea Windemereshire.  And the unsaved girlfriend fell upon sweet romantic reveries of such a thing.

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CHAPTER III

High up in the air, borne by her griffin, the young redhead was looking down upon the fields of countryside near to her place.  She was twenty-five years old, and she knew not Christ, and her full name was “Miss Redde Steady Westminster.”  This adventurous young lady was not riding her griffin upon his back way up here this time.  Instead this time she was being held up by her arms above her head and her wrists securely gripped by her griffin’s powerful eagle talons.  And her griffin was horizontal, and Redde was vertical, as they flew in the skies.  “I’m having great fun up here with you, O Battles,” said Redde.

“I am ever at your service, good Mistress,” replied the griffin Battles.  “Do you like what you see from way up here?”

“Oh, I do!  I do!” said Miss Westminster.  “Fields of rice and fields of wheat and fields of corn and fields of oats!”

“You know how it goes on the cereal box, O Mistress,” said Battles.  “’Four grains in every flake—rice, wheat, corn, oats.’”

“Team Flakes by Nabisco!” said Redde Westminster.  “My favorite cold cereal of long ago.”

“Not very many cereal boxes were orange like Team cereal boxes were,” said Battles.

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“I wish that I could still get that,” said Redde.

“Nabisco just went and quit making that, Mistress,” said Battles, sympathetic to her remembrances.

“Just like Nabisco went and quit making Mister Salty pretzels,” said Redde.

“My favorite was once Mister Salty pretzel sticks,” said Battles. “But I liked Mister Salty regular pretzels and Mister Salty Dutch pretzels also.”

“A salesman I once knew told me that Nabisco’s pretzel factory became a fire hazard, so they stopped making Mister Salty Pretzels,” said Redde.

“Why did they quit making Team cereal, Mistress?” asked her griffin.

“That I do not know,” said the griffin mistress.

Today, once again, as in every day, Redde Steady Westminster was dressed in what she called her “classy, snazzy outfit.”  This was her solid blue long-sleeved dress shirt and her ladies’ blue denim vest with metal buttons unbuttoned and her ladies’ dark blue jeans with a button fly.  And because it was the summer time of the year, she was barefoot—even way up here in the sky.  Her red hair was long and straight and with abundant bangs.  And her female frame was slim and trim.

“Battles,” said Redde after a long while holding on like this, “I think my arms are getting tired.”

“My athletic mistress has strong arms to be carried about by her griffin so long as this,” said her griffin.

“I’m a boxer,” said athletic Miss Westminster.

“Do all women boxers have strong wrists like you do, O Mistress?” asked her griffin pet.

“Yes, Battles,” said Redde.  “And strong biceps and strong triceps.”

“I shall take us both down to the ground now,” said her griffin in deference to his mistress’s wishes.  Battles spread out his great eagle wings, and he glided downward in a spiral in his lion frame,

and the woman Redde was safe in his eagle claws.  Then, just above the surface of the ground, he

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stopped his descent, and he hovered.  He waited till his mistress stepped out upon the ground; then he released her wrists; and she brought her arms down again to her sides;. and he lighted upon the ground along his mistress’s right hand side.

“There, Battles.  That was fun!  Thank you for my ride!” said Redde Westminster.

“Was it as fun for you as a prize fight?” asked her griffin.

“Almost!” said Miss Westminster without hesitation.

“You had fun way up there then,” said Battles, knowing his mistress’s love for women’s boxing.

“I am so thankful for you, Battles, always coming to see me box and cheering me on from the front row,” said Redde.

“I root for you, my mistress,” said her good griffin friend and pet.

“And I am so thankful that Regal comes and sees me box and cheers me on from the front row, too,” said Miss Westminster.

“Your boyfriend roots for you, too, Mistress,” said Battles.

“Did you like my most recent bout, Battles?” asked Redde.

“That was mine and Regal’s favorite fight of yours, my mistress,” said her griffin fan.

“Mine, too!” said Redde Westminster.  “The girl went right down!”

“Her name was ‘Candy Cane,’” said her mighty griffin.  “She was appropriately named.  I never saw a woman boxer so brittle as she.”

“You could say that she broke,” said Redde with a laugh.

“Candy Cane was no match for you in the boxing ring, Mistress,” said Battles.  “Regal and I saw you work her over real good.  And in the end down she went.”

There in the quiet countryside, Miss Westminster and her best friend reminisced over this boxing match that went so well for her:

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said the ring announcer, “welcome to women’s professional boxing.

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In this corner, with a record of fifteen wins and fifteen losses, none by knockout, Redde Westminster.

And in this corner, with a record of one win and ten losses, ten losses by knockout, Candy Cane.”  Boyfriend and griffin friend in the front row, Regal leaned over to Battles and said, “I heard that Candy

Cane’s only victory was against a woman with a bad case of the flu at the time.”

Battles said, “Look at the girl’s arms, Regal.  They look like toothpicks.”

“And she has a glass jaw, also, Battles,” said Regal.

“My mistress told me that she is going to work on her upper arms in this bout,” said Battles.

“That’s a novel boxing strategy,” said Regal.

“It cannot fail my mistress,” said Battles.  “Just wait and see.”

And the bell rang.  Redde moved to the center of the ring.  Candy did not move at all from her corner.  Candy was afraid.  So Redde moved in on her in her corner to begin this bout.  There stood Miss Cane, protecting her fragile face and her glass jaw with both of her boxing gloves in front of her there.  And Miss Westminster went to work on Miss Cane’s frail arms.  First Redde threw a roundhouse left and connected hard on Candy’s right upper arm.  Miss Cane gave forth a feminine grunt of pain.  Then Redde threw a roundhouse right and connected hard on Candy’s left upper arm.  Miss Cane betrayed another feminine grunt of pain.  Redde studied her opponent now in the ring, and she noticed that Candy was not holding up her gloves as high as she was in her effort to protect her jaw.  Indeed, these two punches weakened Candy’s arms, and she could not hold up her boxing gloves as high now as she wanted to.  Now she could only hold up her gloves to the level of her shoulders.  And the seasoned veteran woman boxer Redde continued her strategy in this prize fight.  Miss Westminster now threw a stiff left jab into Candy Cane’s right upper arm, and Candy Cane gave forth another grunt.  And right after that, Redde quickly followed through with a stiff right jab into Candy’s left upper arm, Candy giving away another grunt.  Redde enjoyed hearing them coming from her opponent in this ring.

Analyzing her feeble opponent and what Redde’s second pair of punches had done to her, Redde could

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see that she was effectively and already weakening Candy Cane’s frail arms.  Now Candy’s boxing gloves were held lower.  Candy could no longer protect her chin.  And she could only hold up her gloves to the level of her upper chest.  Redde was not ready to fire a shot to her opponent’s jaw yet.

She had to work over her arms yet some more.  And again did Redde fire another pair of punches.  First she threw a left hook roughly into Candy’s upper right arm; then she threw a right hook roughly into

Candy’s upper left arm.  This time the grunts were weary gasps instead.  Candy was running out of wind.  And she was leaning her back now up against the ropes.  Miss Cane’s arms could hardly now even hold up her own boxing gloves where she stood.  Her gloves were downward toward the height of her own belly.  Her face was exposed.  Her chin was unprofessionally leaning forward.  And her jaw was open season now for Redde Steady Westminster.  Redde turned to Battles in the front row.  He said, “Hit her there again, Mistress.  To make sure!”  Her griffin was thinking what she was thinking.  She must work over Miss Cane’s arms with her gloves one more time before the knockout punch.  And Redde Westminster went ahead to throw a left uppercut fiercely into Miss Cane’s right upper arm.  And of course Redde followed through with a right uppercut fiercely into Candy Cane’s left upper arm.  At once did Miss Candy Canes arms fall straight down along both of her sides, her gloves at the level of her upper legs. This opponent in the ring could no longer hold up her boxing gloves.  A faintness shone in Candy Cane’s countenance now, and no glove had yet struck her face in this prize fight.  Her knees looked like they struggled just to hold her up where she stood.  It looked to Redde that Candy Cane was using the ropes against her back to lean against so as not to fall to the canvas.  And her head hung downward as if she were afraid that she would pass out before the knockout punch.  All the arena knew  what was going to happen next.  And inside her woman prize fighter’s heart, the young and strong Redde Steady Westminster was about to experience a brand new feeling in this ring.  She had never knocked out another woman in her boxing career before.  And now it was about to happen for her for her very first time.  She paused to look out toward Regal in the first row.  He gave her the go-ahead

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with an expression like unto hers now at this most magical moment of her women’s boxing career.  And her boyfriend said four words, “Hit her hard, girl!”  And that she did.  Redde hit Candy hard.  The pretty redhead threw a most effectual right uppercut up and into Candy Cane’s famous glass jaw, putting her whole female body into this knockout punch.  And what a knockout punch it was.  It even hurt Redde’s arm just to throw it.  But it hurt Candy much more.  The little woman’s head snapped back

hard. Her eyes grew real big for just a moment with bewilderment and confusion.  Then her eyes rolled right up and shut where she stood.  And she fell right down upon the canvas in a supine position.  And she lay there not moving, her arms and her legs spread out from her torso where she landed.  And the referee stood over the unconscious woman boxer and counted, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.  You’re out!”  And Redde had her right glove raised in this sixteenth victory in the ring by the referee.  And she heard the announcer say, “Winner by knockout in the first round—Redde Steady Westminster.”  And the crowd cheered.  And Battles and Regal, her two greatest fans, chanted her name.  And she looked down upon the young woman she had punched unconscious.  Yes, with her right boxing glove Redde had put a girl to sleep.  Wow!  Yes!  At last!  Never before was her career so exciting as it was right now.  No woman had done unto Redde yet in the prize-fighting ring what Redde  had just done to another woman.  And Redde wondered what it would be like were she the one who had been knocked out.  It looked like it did hurt.  Fascinating!  Mysterious!  Novel!  Then she saw Candy Cane start to come to where she lay. And Redde felt a little guilty toward Candy.  And she came up to her and said, “I’m sorry, Candy.”

And Candy said, “That’s okay, Redde.  The better woman fighter won.”

And Redde helped Candy back to her feet.  And then she introduced Regal and Battles to her.

And they talked for a little while.  Then it was time to get back home.  And girlfriend and boyfriend and pet griffin left the arena for the day.

And when they got back, Regal asked, “May I have the boxing gloves of your only KO in the

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ring, Redde?”

And she said, “Why, yes, Regal.  I am honored.  They’re all yours now.”

That was that last prize fight of hers.  And griffin and mistress enjoyed reminiscing over it in

delights here in the tranquil countryside of her yard.

Then Battles said, “Your Christian boyfriend Regal is fiercely loyal to you, Mistress.”

“He is a good man,” she said without hesitation.

“He is at all of your fights.  He won’t even look at another girl other than you.  He speaks only good of you to me and to you and to everybody else.  He has a major crush on you, Mistress,” said

Battles.

“You should see the crush that I have on him,” said Redde.  “I dream about him at night, and I

dream about him in the day.”

“I know what you dream for, Mistress,” said her griffin confidant.

“The one thing he will never give me,” said Miss Westminster, unsatisfied.

“The only thing that your born-again believer will not do with you that you ask him to do with you,” said Battles.

“All I am asking him for is just a quick little hug,” she said.

“He feels that that would lead him astray in his walk with Christ,” said Battles.

“Crazy idea,” she said.

“He knows his Bible, O Mistress,” said Battles.

“A young woman like myself needs a hug from her guy from time to time,” said Miss Westminster, disgruntled.

“What’s his reason for not doing that?” asked her griffin.  “Does his God say in the Bible anywhere, ‘Thou shalt not hug your girlfriend?’”

“I don’t think so, from what he says to me about all that, Battles,” said Redde.

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“Is he too square to give you an embrace when you need it, my mistress?” asked Battles.

“No.  My boyfriend is not square.  He just doesn’t have rest about that in his heart,” said Miss Westminster.

“He feels sincerely in his heart that it would be wrong for boyfriend and girlfriends to go hugging each other, it sounds like,” surmised her griffin Battles.

“He always talks about this Bible thing he says is called ‘being unequally yoked together,’” summed up the unsaved Redde.

“Yeah, like when one member of a dating romance is saved, and the other member of the dating romance is lost,” said Battles, knowing his mistress’s woes in her life with righteous Regal.

“I tell you, Battles, saved people think very differently from lost people,” said the redhead.

“It sounds like he does not get excited about embracing his own beautiful girlfriend,” said her pet griffin.

“Oh, he would if he let himself,” said Redde Westminster.  “I see it in his eyes when he looks at my physique dressed in this all the time.  He fantasizes about giving me a hug.  A man’s girlfriend crazy for that man so long as I have been for him can tell these things in her man.”

‘Maybe it might happen for you before too much longer,” said Battles.  “Your first embrace with him.”

“That would be fun,” she said in reverie.  “That would be romantic.”

“With a little luck, Mistress, and you might not have to wait too much longer for him to give in,” said her wise griffin.

“I do feel awful lonely sometimes without lots of hugs from him,” she said in somberness.

“I can see how much he loves God,” said her pet griffin, “the way he resists so great temptations so repeatedly with you.”

“He tells me that lots of temptations about me come upon him because of our unequal yoke

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together, Battles,” said Redde.

“Mistress!” said her griffin.  “Do be careful with those temptations.  A man who loves his God as your boyfriend does is liable to go and break up with you in order to flee those temptations.”

“How come you say that?” she asked.  “He never broke up with me yet.”

“A man like Regal loves his Jesus more than he does his girlfriend, I am sure,” warned Battles.

“Who know what he might do if it means staying true to Christ.”

“My my!  How many times has his God come between us on our dates, O Battles.  Regal is so good, and I am not so good.  I wonder why he keeps me.”

“He likes what you look like, Mistress,” said her pet griffin.  “I think that he likes what you look like so very much that he has been playing along with God in still being your boyfriend.”

“I don’t think that God likes me being Regal’s girlfriend, Battles,” said Miss Westminster.

“And for that, Regal may be tempting mighty God,” said Battles.

“And Regal is caught in the middle between God and myself,” confessed the lost girlfriend.

“Or, Mistress, you could say that you are caught in the middle between his God and your boyfriend,” said thinking Battles.

“Regal could say that his God is caught in the middle between himself and myself,” said Redde, thinking out loud herself.

“Your star Sky Hosoya probably knows the fun of embraces with a cute guy,” said good Battles.

“She’s famous.”

“What guy would not want to hug her?” asked Redde.

“She’s a blast from the past, and you are her greatest fan,” said Battles.

“She was a pioneer in women’s boxing, Battles,” said Miss Westminster.  “She was a pretty woman boxer.”

“You are also a pretty woman boxer,” said her griffin best friend.

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“Oh thank you, kind Battles,” said Redde.  “Regal says that to me on every one of our dates.”

“Does he find your Sky pretty, also, Mistress?” asked her griffin friend.

“Yes,” said Redde.  “He says that Sky is pretty, and he says that I am beautiful.”

“Sky Hosoya was rough and tough,” said Battles.

“She is a great woman boxer,” said Miss Westminster.

“And I know you, Mistress.  Nothing would make you like Miss Hosoya more than if she and you got in the ring against each other,” said Battles.

“Why, she would positively knock me out cold, O Battles,” said Redde.  “That fight would be your mistress’s first loss by knockout for sure.”

“She’s Oriental, isn’t she, my mistress?” asked Battles.

“Yes.  She is Japanese,” said Miss Westminster.  “She was born in Tokyo.”

“Do tell me all about your favorite celebrity,” said her pet griffin.

“Again?” she asked, flattered and very glad at this request.

“I never tire of hearing my mistress tell me about her Miss Hosoya,” said eager Battles.

“I would be most glad to do that,” said Redde.  “About first trying her hand at women’s boxing, Sky thought that it sounded wild at first to her.  But she decided to go ahead and give it a try.  And she went on to knock out other women in the ring in a very successful and unique career for her gender.  She said this about her boxing:  ‘I have bad technique, but I’ve got power.  When I land a shot and see

those eyes roll back in their head, then I know.  I like to end it quickly, mercifully.  That way she doesn’t need to take much punishment, and I don’t either.’  And my Sky Hosoya said this about her sport of women’s boxing:  ‘I think everyone who has fantasized about unleashing their strength and feeling the powerful force of another opponent should try it at least once.’”  Then Redde fell upon silent thoughts about this women’s pugilist star.

“Mistress,” said Battles, “do you care for another of our games together right now?”

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“Yes!” said Redde Steady Westminster.  “My arms are all rested from our earlier game of this day.”

“Which one should we play now?” he asked her.

“Roller Coasters!” his mistress said at once. “Let’s play Roller Coasters!”

“You had better hold on tight with this game, O Mistress,” said her prudent griffin.

“I will ride your back, and I will hold on tight to your neck with both of my arms, and I will hold on tight to your sides with both of my legs, and I will keep my head low and close to your head, O fun Battles!” said Redde Westminster in great anticipation.  And she hopped right up upon her griffin’s back.

“Hop on, Mistress,” said Battles in jest after she had just done that.

“I think that I will do that,” she said, also after the fact.  And she wrapped her arms and legs safely about her careful griffin.

“Ready, Mistress?” he asked.

“Ready, Battles!” she said.  And the great and might griffin lifted up into the air with his formidable and wide eagle wings.  And the two best friends again enjoyed a game of Roller Coasters as the griffin made loops in the sky and spirals in the sky and great ascents in the sky and great descents in the sky and three hundred sixty degree turns in the sky.  And griffin and mistress played this game for

a quarter of an hour, best friends laughing together in gaiety, until the griffin grew weary from this work-out and the mistress was satisfied from this ride.  And Redde Steady Westminster was happy.

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CHAPTER IV

His name was Flanders Arckery Nickels, and he and Aphrodite were boyfriend-and-girlfriend.

This Flanders Nickels was a fiercely faithful born-again believer:  He never missed a church service at his Baptist church down the road; he never went a whole day without a Bible-reading; he never went a whole night without praying.  His dear girlfriend Aphrodite, however, had never come to his Baptist church, had never opened up the Bible one time, had never even tried to pray once. He was quite unequally yoked together with this girl, and he knew it; but he did not do anything about it.  He was a young man of twenty-five years of age, and he saw Aphrodite Dea Tea as being as beautiful as the Greek goddess Aphrodite herself.  And he refused to give her up for the cause of Christ, even though it provoked him daily as a stumbling block in his walk with Christ.  She always wanted to reach out and touch his hair, but he wouldn’t let her.  Secretly inside, though, this was just what he wanted her to do.

And more so than that, she always wanted him to reach out and run his hand down her hair, and he never failed to resist such charms.  But his secret desires that he most had for her, though he had never dared to tell her, was to feel the brown feminine tresses that covered her irresistible head so ravishingly

with his hand.  And in the back of his mind, he feared giving in thus and having his heart stolen away from Jesus by this girl with the bewitching hair.

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What did Flanders Nickels do for a living?  He wrote for Jesus.  His career was writing novels and short stories for God.  He called his work for the Lord “my Canon Ministry,” or “my Canon Mission.”  His one canon was his short stories, and his other canon was his novels.  Writing these were his ministry, his mission, for Christ.  His short story collection he officially called, “My Canon of Horsetails and Cattails.”  Horsetails were called by botanists “Equisetum,” and cattails were called by botanists “Typha.”  Flanders had discovered a love for both types of plants when he had written of an idyllic paradise of great pastoral beauty in one of his early short stories of a bottom of a great waterfalls

in a valley of such horsetails on one side of a creek and a valley of such cattails on the other side of the creek.  And his love for horsetails and cattails grew after that.  Now these were the two very symbols for him of the sum of all of his short stories.  As for his novel collection, this he did call “My Canon of Griffins and Unicorns.”  He greatly admired and respected griffins and unicorns the most of all of the Creator’s animals in this world.  And his novels were filled abundantly with griffin characters and unicorn characters.  Not all of this writer’s unicorns were white; and not all of this writer’s griffins were the same parts in their eagle-lion hybrid form.  His short stories were much about a soul getting saved.  His novels were much about battles between good and evil.  And his writing room was on the top floor of his four-story house.

This Christian author’s house was horizontally small, but vertically big.  The basement was the most spacious floor; the first floor was the second most spacious floor; the second floor was the third most spacious floor; the third floor was the fourth most spacious floor; and the fourth floor was the fifth most spacious floor.  Indeed his writing room was the smallest floor of his house, a floor of only one room.

This writing room was abundant with works of rare and exotic woods made by Flanders’ big brother, a master craftsman of woodworking.  In this room’s center was a table and chair set made of the wood coco-bola.  This was where Flanders did write all of his religious/inspirational works for              

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Jesus in his Christian ministry.  This writing table measured five feet by five feet square, with no leaves; and its wooden chairs numbered four, with high backs to them.  The floor of this very wooden room was of the wood called “butternut,” perhaps the wood that his big brother worked the most with in his woodworking.  The walls of this writing den were all of black walnut.  The ceiling was of mahogany.  For the light of day in his writing sessions in the daytime, Flanders had four picture-windows, one big window for each small wall– one facing the sunrise, one facing the south, one facing the sunset, and one facing the north.  And these picture-windows were most unique, for they were

actually very large combination windows, whose storm windows could be raised for the screens that let in the pleasing air of countryside into this writing den in warm summer days for Flanders.  Himself being a guy, he had no curtains or drapes on his windows.  And he had no blinds to cover these windows.  He was old-fashioned and used old-time shades on his windows when night came upon this writing den. And all the windowsills and window frames were made of the wood Bubinga.   And for the dark of night in his writing hours, for light Flanders had a five-lamp chandelier light directly above the writing table, that was operated by a rheostat switch on the wall.  This simple and homey chandelier was also a pull-down lamp that could be raised and lowered from the ceiling by hand, farther from or nearer to his works on the table for when he was writing.  Also Flanders had four ceiling fans in this writing room, one ceiling fan in each of this room’s four corners.  The blades of these ceiling fans were made of the wood Ash.  Along the four walls, to each side of each window, Flanders had his repositories of his hard copies of his many writings.  These repositories were single wooden shelves made of Indian Rosewood, and the wooden brackets that held up these shelves were made of Brazilian Rosewood.  And he had wooden bookends on the sides of each repository which held up his writings, and these bookends were made of the wood “Wenge.”  And for heat up here in the winter time, Flanders had old-time radiators running beneath each large window, wonderful radiators that made lots of cozy sounds as they poured forth much heat for the comforts of his writing sessions.  And finally, as

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for the door to this blessed room, that was made of the wood teak.

Right now the man Flanders was standing in his doorway to this fourth floor writing room, admiring the western sun’s yellow glow upon his writing table.  Sunset was not too far away now, and sunset was his favorite time of day.  After that would come dusk, and dusk was his second favorite time of day.  Now was a great time to sit down spontaneously and write some of his chapter for the day.  And Flanders Nickels came up to his writing table to take in his beautiful accouterments to his writing hereupon.  On the one side was his desktop computer and his PC and his keyboard and his mouse for his files and folders of his computer full of his final drafts.  And on the other side of his writing table were his yellow pads of writing paper, ruled with blue lines, and his number four lead writing pencils, all in a pile of twelve, sharpened and ready for his work, and a pencil sharpener which was loose upon his table, and his written manuscript in progress and a King James Bible and a Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary of the American Language.  Right now his computer was idle, for he was not on this novel’s final draft.  Right now his writing paper and his writing pencils were busy these days, because he was on this novel’s first draft yet. The final draft and the computer would come later.  And he sat down now to ruminate upon chapter IV of his novel in progress to get ready to pick up on his writing from where he had left off yesterday.  He needed to do some patient thinking about what to write each time before he began his day’s writing each time he sat down here.  Then his writing would begin to his delight and to God’s glory.  Now, as in all of his other times here, Flanders Nickels did not forget first to pray, always saying, “Father, help me do the best I can to glorify Your Son.  In Jesus’s name.  Amen.”  Then the Christian author began to write more of this chapter in this novel in paper and pencil:

“The ninth grade boy, innocent and not a man, came up to the house of the family kitty corner from his house.  And he asked the young mother, “Can Tracy and Trudy and Troy come over and play football?”  Tracy was in seventh grade, and he had gone bicycle riding with her one day, herself in a

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two-piece swimsuit; but he didn’t care, because he was not interested in girls then.  Trudy and Troy were yet still in the lower grades of grade school.  But now this young man was a little older now, and his request was not without some hopes of flirt with this Tracy were she to play football with him.  She had brown hair.  He did not know if this brown hair were pretty now to him or not.  This new idea was brand new to him.  The mother consented, and this young fellow got to play tackle football with Tracy and her little sister and her little brother.  And he tackled a girl for his first time.  Of course it was Tracy.  And he kind of really liked it.  He wanted to do that again.  But this next time, Tracy got to tackle him.  It was a lucky tackle; she had barely caught him by the ankles, and he tripped and fell down.  But he liked that, also.  He wanted her to do that again.  Tackle followed tackle both ways.  And in the end, himself above her in a tackle, this young man took his thumb and index finger and ran them through the bangs of her brown hair from the top all the way to the bottom.  He now discovered pretty brown hair.  And now he suddenly got to liking girls.  And suddenly the boy was a man.  And he found his first girlfriend, himself fifteen years old, and herself thirteen years old.”

Lifting the pencil off of the paper, this Christian writer so staunch and strict in his real life seemed uninhibited and loose in his writing life.  He did not feel rest in the Lord about what he had just written. This Tracy was a type of his own Aphrodite.  Did not he want to stroke his long-time girlfriend’s hair just as the young man in his chapter want to stroke his new girlfriend’s hair?  The only difference was that the boy did it, and the man Flanders did not do it.  Should he let himself “do it” even just on pencil and paper?  If he felt it wrong to touch a girl’s hair in his dating life, might it not also be wrong to do that even in the fantasy of a novel?  Was this chapter a brave new temptation and stepping stone?  Or was it a safety valve to satisfy his romance desires to keep him from trying it for real for himself?  Indeed Aphrodite Dea Tea’s hair daily tempted him, very much so in ways that none of the rest of any of her did tempt him any time.   God knew how many hairs that she had that covered her head.  Every one of the myriads of them were like angel’s hair.  Even her brown eyes were not so

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entrancing as her brown hair.  And her bangs were the best part of her much long hair.  But he promised himself not to touch even just one of them, himself quite alone now with God here in this writing room.

Bad thing?  Good thing?  The thing not for him to do.

But he did not erase this most provocative paragraph from the chapter of his novel.

Flanders Arckery Nickels had not always written for Christ; after all, he had not always been saved by Christ.  He had already written much for the world and the flesh and the devil before Jesus had become his Saviour.  And this was the novel he had written in his childhood, a book he called,

“The Ages.”  The Ages was like a “history book of another world.”  It had only one draft—a handwritten version on paper and pencil, and a typewritten version verbatim on a manual typewriter.  There were seventeen chapters to this fantasy book, one chapter for each of this book’s seventeen ages.

And this history book had three units of chapters to it, each unit covering one era of the three eras of ages of this world’s history.  In the first era, “the Era of Sticks,” there was first “the Age of Plantes,”

then “the Age of Kings,” then “the Age of Youngstown-Yankee Durham,” then “the Age of Continuation,” then “the Age of Progression,” then “the Age of Succession,” then “the Age of Civilization.”  In the second era, “the Era of Kingdoms,” there was first “the Age of Two Kingdoms,” and last “the Age of Advancement.”  And in the third era, “the Era of Mans,” there was first “the Age of Primitivity,” then “the Age of Marcoism,” then “the Age of Senorism,” then “the Age of Ponchoism,” then “the Age of Bretonnic Dominance,” then “the Age of Modern,” then, “the Age of Declination,” then “the Age of the Winds’ End.”

In the Era of Sticks (E.S.), plantes and sticks populated the world.  They could move about and had intellect and had free will.  They had not eyes, but they could see.  They had not ears, but they could hear.  They had not mouths, but they could speak.  They had not hands, but they could hold.  They had not feet, but they could walk.  First into the world came the Plantes, and everything in the world of this time was always violence everywhere.  The biggest two species of the Plantes were

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the Muellyens and the Antodeonosites.  The most well-known of species of the Plantes were the Goldenrods and the Milkweeds, who were known for their deadly sport of All-Star Wrestling, wherein two tag teams of four each took on one another in a battle to the death.  Then came the sticks.  These sticks were bigger and stronger and more civilized than were the Plantes.  Moreover these sticks were made of wood.  And sticks quickly came to dominate the world for the rest of this era.  The aforementioned “Youngstown” and “Yankee Durham” were indeed this era’s biggest sticks ever, past and present and future.  But early in this world, violence also was a great part of the world of sticks, as well.  “I’m the king,” would say one challenger.  “No, I’m the king,” would say his adversary.  And a fight to the death would take place between two sticks.  This was called “a match,” a fight to the death between sticks. In such a match, the sticks lifted themselves into the air and swung their forms into one another in a strike.  Their designs were to crack the other stick into two pieces unto death. The king, the biggest stick in the world, was the ruler of the world.  And every stick wanted to be king.  And every stick knew of his own toughness, which was a number that designated the power of his wood.  A stick with a toughness of one hundred was a formidable king indeed.  But the sticks gradually became more and more civilized,  less and less violent, more and more evolved.  And the Immortals, who had created sticks, saw their creations becoming more like themselves in sophistication.

Then the Immortals created mans (plural of “man”) and mans and sticks now walked the world together.  Thus the Era of Kingdoms (E.K.).  But mans were primitive and violent and ignorant, and sticks were advanced and peaceful and very wise.  And mans declared war on sticks.  And the Kingdom Stick handily made extinct the Kingdom Man.  This world of the sticks was a single square country called, “Centro.”  It was a flat world with four straight sides east and south and west and north.  Were a stick careless, he was liable to fall off of the world and fall forever in the limbo beyond the world.  Near these edges was “the Edge of the World,” and at these very edges was “the End of the World,” and in these outer regions of Centro the Immortals played supernatural games.  The mans now gone, the

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sticks quickly evolved ever closer to immortality, thus threatening the domination of the original Immortals themselves.  Two sticks even evolved into Immortals—O’Hare and Schneider.  And the original Immortals warred and defeated the sticks and the two stick Immortals.

Then the Immortals created a new world of mans only.  This was the Era of Mans (E.M.).

Of course, mans once again started out lawless and primitive and violent.  But, they, too, slowly became more civilized as the centuries passed.  The world in this era was a great sea of world with large island countries spread out about in the oceans.  The first world power, the Balkans, was a small country in the northeast.  The second world power, Russia, was a larger country in the northwest.  The third world power, Mexico, was a larger still country in the south.  The fourth world power, Breton, was a very large country in the north.  And the fifth world power—at mans’ peak—was America—a great vast country in the center.    Mans enjoyed sports of violence—one on one– unto death in this era’s early years.  In this era’s later years, mans enjoyed team-oriented sports where there was not death.  And the day came in the world where America’s government eliminated killing in its borders, so civilized was man now in the Age of Modern.  And the Immortals began to see an old problem coming upon themselves again—their creations were evolving to the point where they would be like the Immortals themselves.  And the Immortals wanted to preserve their dominance over mans.  And this time they acted more quickly than they had with the sticks.  And they brought the fell and deadly winds of “Black Stracks,” (one hundred mile-per-hour winds) and of “Black Stracts” (two hundred fifty mile-per-hour winds) and of “Black Stratzes” (five hundred mile-per-hour winds) upon the world of mans.

And mans became extinct.  The world came to the end.  And The Ages concluded.

But now, with the Holy Ghost wisdom of a born-again believer and the truth of Christ in his heart, Flanders Nickels could see four most ungodly aspects to his old book of his young years that both himself now and God ever disagreed with.  The first was violence.  God does not like violence;  Satan likes violence, and the world likes violence, and the flesh likes violence.  In the world of sticks,

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violence was wood against wood.  In the world of mans, violence was shedding of blood.  The second sin of that wicked novel was the false belief of evolutionism.  Evolutionism is a false science and false religion and false faith that denies man’s responsibility to God.  Creationism, as Flanders now knew, was truth.  The third sin of that evil novel was the belief of polytheism.  The Bible says that there is one God.  There are not many gods.  Monotheism is the truth of the triune Godhead.  And the fourth sin of his first written work was the doctrine of humanism, which says that mankind on Earth can solve his own problems.  Mankind can do nothing without God.

And when the writer Flanders Arckery Nickels became a born-again Christian, he repented of The Ages and did indeed throw it into Mom and Dad’s fireplace for the glory of God and the good of

literature.  And he began to wonder upon if he could learn to write good things instead.  He learned to wish to learn how to write for his newfound Saviour.  He wanted to write professionally for the Lord.

He prayed about it.

Then Aphrodite Dea Tea came into his life.  He fell head over heels for her.  But she was lost.

She needed salvation.  He must win her soul. She must become saved from her sins.  He began to tell her about her need for a personal Saviour.  Her soul depended upon that.  And he told her, and she rejected Christ.  He told her again, and she rejected Christ again.  He told her again, and again she said, “No” to Jesus.  He could not lead her to God in his real dating life.  So he wrote about leading her to Christ in his fantasy short stories now.  Behold how alive and living this Christian writing became for him now that he was writing salvation stories about a pretty girl becoming a born-again Christian,  And he saw God founding a brand new era of writing for him.  Flanders came to call this genre, “Of Sympathy and Sentimentality.”  The key to good writing was to make one’s characters sympathetic to the reader.  And with his beautiful girlfriend in his stories, for the first time in his years of writing did

Flanders now learn to do this.  His girl Aphrodite was a sentimental leading lady whom all readers had to like.  Lo, this writer had now become a good writer—thanks to beautiful Aphrodite and the good

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Lord Who guided his writing hand.  And what a garden of stories the inspired Flanders Nickels did write about his dear girlfriend.  He wrote stories about himself leading her to salvation.  He wrote stories about herself leading him to salvation.  He wrote stories about God answering his prayers or her prayers.  And Aphrodite had friends.  Her five friends were named “Heidi” and “Tracy” and “Lisa” and “Jodi” and “Jenny.”  And Flanders Nickels went on and wrote multitudes of stories about these five young women as well, making them sympathetic and sentimental to the reader as well.  And he got published.  And Flanders Arckery Nickels was now a professional Christian author writing to the glory of God.  And he came to call his collection of short stories, “Of Horsetails and Cattails.”  This was not

the tails of horses and the tails of cats indeed.  This was quite Flanders Nickels’ favorite two plants created by the Maker, which became personal symbols to this writer of all of his good Christian short stories.  Horsetails were also called “shrubby horsetails” or “scouring rushes.”  And cattails were also called “cattylles” or “catalles.”  Then one day God called upon him with Holy Spirit inspiration to write a novel.  This novel was called The Unicorn Keeper, and it was about a great woman of God who was a mistress to the ten greatest unicorns in the world.  Then God inspired Flanders to write a second novel.

This was called The Unicorn Lands, and it was about a world full of and dominated by unicorns.  And more novels from God came after that to please and delight this writer and to spread the Word of God to the readers of Flanders’ novels.  And Flanders wrote just as much about griffins as he did unicorns.

And he came to call his collection of novels, “Of Griffins and Unicorns.” his two favorite animals wrought by the wise Creator.  Indeed was this writer’s ministry of evangelism a most unique ministry for Jesus.  With his stories and novels he did win souls for Christ, and he did edify and build up Christians in the faith.

And there was yet one more writing era—one more writing genre—for Flanders Nickels.

And this one was one that was to come.  It would happen for him in his glorious eternity in Heaven.

And he did not know what it would be like.  He only knew that it would be even better than the

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most blessed and most happy one he was in now in his walk with Christ down here.  He thought to call this Heavenly writing “Of Truth and Glory.”  And “Of Truth and Glory” would be all about only Jesus Himself.  Short stories and novels written for God Up in Heaven was almost as mysterious to Flanders Nickels as walking and talking with God Up in Heaven was.  There was a Bible verse in the New Testament that said much to him about the sealed mystery of this genre.  It was I Corinthians 13:12, which said this, “For now we see through a glass darkly; but then face to face:  now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.”  After coming to see the glorified Lord Jesus for his first time There, would not his writing for God be forever better than anything he had written while down here?  There was also a Bible verse in the Old Testament that spoke of the mystery of this era of writing for him in his life to come.  This was Deuteronomy 29:29, which read the following:  “The secret things belong unto the Lord our God:  but those things which are revealed belong unto us and to our children for ever, that we may do all the words of this law.”  In his eternal life in Glory, Flanders was going to behold Almighty God Himself, and he would for ever after write truth and glory of God for all the saints in Heaven to read.  He thought now upon a fantasy about Heaven that might become dream come true for him There:  He daydreamed again about his first written work in Heaven.  It would be a novel.  It would be a hard copy.  It would be typed on an electronic typewriter.  It would be three hundred pages long.  It would be bound in a report cover.  And the report cover binder would be red.

It would be entitled The Elysian Fields.  It would be about Heaven.  It would be about the Prince of Peace Who made Heaven so peaceful.  It would be a gift to his Saviour.  He would go on a pilgrimage with this book in his hand to come and see the Lord God.  And he would kneel before Christ on His

throne, and bow his head before Him, and set this book before His feet, and it would be a present to

his Good and Great Lord.  And God would say to him, “Thank You, my son.”  And he would say to

God, “Thank You, Lord.”  And this would be the advent “Of Truth and Glory,” in his everlasting life in Heaven.

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CHAPTER V

Proffery Rule Coins was alone with the Lord in his drawing house, and he was thinking again sweet things about his girlfriend Bitsy.  He was twenty-five years old, saved mightily by God, and living a Christian life full of much worship throughout all his days as a believer.  This drawing house

was an additional building next to the house in which he lived.  It was like a guest house, except in here he drew drawings and sketches professionally in his ministry to Jesus.  This building was his workplace, and it was truly a glass house.  Clever Bitsy always told him in jest, “People in glass houses should not throw stones.”  And he would always say, “Then I will throw rocks.”  And they always laughed together with this.  He affectionately called this little house in the summers, “My Summer Place,” and he affectionately called this little house in the winters, “My Winter House.”  But he yet found no name for this little house for the springs or for the falls.  Bitsy loved joining him in dates in this house of windows.  She was faithfully with him often when he was doing his work for the Lord.

And Proffery always made sure that Mane her beloved lion was also welcome on the date if it were okay with Bitsy.  Mane and Proffery were good friends, and that made Proffery a great boyfriend for

Bitsy.  And her favorite drawings of her artistically skilled boyfriend were all of his sketches of her

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beloved Mane.  But she did not care at all for his other drawings.  They were all about things that happened in the Holy Bible.  Proffery was born again.  Bitsy was not born again.  Proffery loved the Bible.  Bitsy hated the Bible.  Proffery loved to draw about Bible verses.  Bitsy wanted him to draw herself and her lion.

In a moment of inspiration, Proffery Coins began now to draw a pencil drawing of Jesus Christ as the “Lion of the tribe of Juda.”  He began with the Lion’s great mane.  And after much work and trial and error and much fulfillment, the Lion’s mane was finished.  Wondering what should come next after the Lion’s mane, Proffery wandered away to thoughts about the lion Mane.  Bitsy’s Mane was like a

liaison between Proffery and Bitsy.  Bitsy would send Mane to Proffery to tell Proffery that she wanted to see him.   And he would send Mane back to Bitsy to tell her that he wanted to see her, too.  Thus this lion messenger often brought about spontaneous dates between the two.  Were it not for Proffery’s Coins’ greater love for the Lord than for the girl, he would have compromised much Bible-reading and praying and church-going amid this spontaneity of dates with Bitsy Windemereshire.  And though he always finished the worship he was in the middle of before running off with the woman, she did not like to wait for her loneliness to be resolved when she sent her lion to her boyfriend.  And unsaved

Bitsy did not understand why her boyfriend always placed his worship life with Jesus above his romance life with her.  In like, Proffery did not understand why Bitsy refused his testimonies of the Lord Jesus.  He did not understand her wry face at his prayers of thanks to God for their meals together.

And he did not understand her offense and contempt and rebellion against his own personal Saviour.

Proffery knew God to call his relationship with beautiful Bitsy Windemereshire to be for himself, “unequally yoked together.”  And all the time on so many of their dates—whether planned or not planned—she always asked him, “Proffery, would you give me a kiss today?”  And he would silently shake his head a loud, “No” in great spiritual rebuke at his importunate and greatly alluring unsaved

girlfriend.  And then she would play the temptress and cock her so comely head to the side at him

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as his wily beguiler and say, “Just one kiss for your woman gymnast, boyfriend?”                                               And then he would say, “Jesus and I both said, ‘No,’ already. Bitsy.”

“You want your woman gymnast’s tricks, but you don’t want her kisses,” she said then that most recent time.

“She and I are not equally yoked together,” he said that time.

But then she said, “So we can kiss if become born again?”

“Bitsy, do you want to be born again?” he asked.

“Proffery, do you want to kiss me?” she asked.  Surely such a stubborn heart as hers did not suddenly wish to become a Christian.  And surely she was never to find out how sweet to his heart such a kiss with her would be.  He was caught on the horns of a dilemma for a wise reply.  And he said nothing.  And she went ahead and said, “If you kiss me, Proffery, then I will let you lead me to Christ.”

Behold, feminine subterfuge.  She was not at all wanting to become a believer.  She had just said all this just to deceive him into a first kiss, and right after that she would suddenly “change her mind” about Jesus and refuse to get saved.  Lo, the stratagems of women.

But the lost woman gymnast did not give up her pursuit.  She went on to say, “Proffery, if you will lead me to Christ first, then I will kiss you second.”

“You can’t mean that,” he said.  “You would lie your prideful heart right through the prayer and not mean any of it, and you would make a fool out of me in believing in your brand new conversion to Christ.”

“But then we could finally go and do it, Proffery,” she had said.  “Is there any Bible verse that talks about kissing?”

He knew them all.  For as many times as Bitsy had petitioned him to kiss her, he had secretly daydreamed about kissing her in his times alone in this drawing room.  And he knew all the Bible verses about a kiss, and he knew all of their references.  And the romance of the kiss tempted him

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as much as it drove her.  He told Mom one day about when he had first seen so pretty Bitsy, “It was all I could do not to kiss her.”  And his mom said in good humor to him, “Try to restrain yourself.”

And here, even after years of dating her, he found Holy Ghost strength to restrain himself thus, despite her most tempting flirts so many and so sincere.  Pastor had told him once about his life with his unsaved girlfriend, “Proffery, if you backslide little, you will backslide far.”

“Sweeter than wine,” he found himself saying in this glass house.

Just then he rediscovered the beginning of his sketch of Jesus as the Lion of the tribe of Juda.

He had forgotten about his drawing for God and drifted off on all about the bad thing that he was not supposed to do.  He had wandered away from this lion Jesus unto thoughts of Bitsy’s lion Mane, and then on unto thoughts about Mane’s mistress Bitsy, and then on unto thoughts about Bitsy his charmer

of a girlfriend, and then on to that first kiss that had never happened with her and him.  He could not remember of a time before where his thoughts of Bitsy Windemereshire had distracted him from his work for God.  Even when his sketches were of his gymnast girlfriend in the first place, he was still focused on God.  But this time was different.  He had allowed illicit desires for the first kiss to fill

him with thoughts of the world.  And he was embarrassed now, himself alone with God in this sketch house.  And then a still small voice reminded him, “Pray, my son, for the good of the drawing.”  This was the Holy Spirit talking to him.  Why, he had forgotten to pray before sitting down to draw for God today.  This was the one thing that he never forgot in his ministry as a Christian artist.  He forgot this one time, and now he did not feel like drawing Jesus right now after having daydreamed so long now about all of the wrong things for him to daydream about.  He apologized to Jesus and then he prayed

his prayer:  “Dear Father, move my hand across the paper and wrought with me the drawing You want me to draw this day.  In Jesus’s name.  Amen.”  Amen!  He now wanted to draw his Saviour as the Lion once again.  And, filled up again with the Holy Ghost of the trinity, Proffery Rule Coins went on and spent the next few hours drawing this allegory of Christ.  And when he was done, he gazed upon a

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masterpiece.  Even Mane, the lion whom he knew by sight and by touch and by hearing for many years, never inspired in Proffery Coins as virtual and as detailed and as realistic a work of art as this Lion Who was a type of Christ did in this chef d’oeuvre.  This drawing looked like a photograph to its artist.

One could see the maleness of God in his mane.  One could see the mercy and grace of God in his lion

eyes.  One could see the Lord’s hatred for sin in the lion’s open mouth and the lion’s great teeth.  One could see the omnipotence of God in the lion’s paws.  One could see the omnipresence of God in his lion ears that heard all.  One could see the beauty of creation in this lion’s tawny hide.  And one could see the omniscience of God in this lion’s raised tail, so alert and attentive.  And one could see God’s two most essential attributes as God in his very standing lion stature—the Lord’s two attributes of holiness and love.  And he prayed once again after his work was done for the day, praying his customary words, “Thank You, God, for having used me to give all due honor to Your Son and my Saviour.  In His name.  Amen.”

His greatest work for the Lord now completed, Proffery then spent time admiring the artist’s desk that God had found for him for his Christian career.  On top of his desk was a red box of licorice snaps.  Snaps were his favorite candy.  He liked orange licorice snaps best; and green licorice snaps second best; and white licorice snaps third best; and pink licorice snaps fourth best. He opened up this box right now and picked out an orange one and put it most gladly into his mouth and quite enjoyed it.

He then opened up his top middle drawer of his artist’s desk and gazed upon its contents.  Behold, the pencil he never used, his pencil of pencils, a gift from his big brother to his little brother who loved pencils, his favorite of all of his pencils, the drawing pencil too good to be worn down.  This was a number nine lead pencil, the hardest lead that this pencil drawer had ever seen.  This lead was hard like stone and ever sharp like a dart and light colored like indiscernible white gray.  His big brother, the day he had given it to him, had gone ahead and pierced an aluminum pop can with it.  The number nine lead pencil went through both ends of the metal can, and its tip was completely yet intact.  The wood of

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the pencil suffered some cracks, but the lead of the pencil was utterly unfazed and not blunted and quite  whole.  “Thank You for this pencil, Lord,” said the Christian drawer.  And, behind this most unique

artists’ pencil in this top middle drawer, Proffery Coins had more little red boxes of licorice snaps, half of them all empty and half of them all full.  This middle top drawer was one foot wide and two feet deep.

As for the rest of his precious sketch desk, Proffery had three cubbyholes for desk drawers along the left and three cubbyholes for drawers along the right.  He now paused to pick out a green licorice snap from his little box and put that into his mouth to eat.  It was good.  In the top left cubbyhole were boxes of gray graphite drawing pencils with leads of number one and of number two and of number two-and-one-half and of number three and of number four and of number five and of number six and of number seven and of number eight.  Number one lead was the softest and the darkest of pencil leads.  It got dull quickly and needed sharpening the most.  Bowlers used number one lead pencils often when they kept score on their score sheet throughout their game.  And Proffery used number one lead for when he wanted the lines to be the most black in his drawings.  Number two lead

was the lead that most pencils were made of.  Almost every pencil that people bought and used was almost always of this lead.  It was of a lead that was a little harder and a little lighter than the number one lead pencils. Number two-and-one-half lead was the second most common pencil lead out there for

people to buy.  This again, was a little harder and a little lighter than number two lead pencils.  And pencils of these other higher numbers of leads were used mainly by people like Proffery or other specialists whose career or hobby required such special pencils.

In the middle left cubbyhole did Proffery store his boxes of colored pencils.  In here were all manner of brands of colored pencils, boxes with diverse numbers of pencils and diverse colors and diverse names of colors.  He had nearly one hundred different shades and hues and tones of colors

throughout this cubbyhole, all of them drawing pencils.

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In the bottom left cubbyhole Proffery did store all of his magic markers, big and thick or small and thin.  He had all the colors of Bic Banana magic markers and all the colors of Sharpies magic markers and all the colors of Marks-a-Lot magic markers.

In his top right cubbyhole he had all manner of boxes of crayons.  He had boxes of Crayola crayons of all of their sizes.   He had boxes of Cray-Pas crayons.  He had well over one hundred different colors of crayons with all of their unique names for colors.

In his middle right cubbyhole he had pencil cap erasers with the sundry colors that they did come in and big pencils erasers one held in his hand and also White-Out paper rolls and White-Out

bottles with brushes.

And in his bottom right cubbyhole was Proffery Rule Coins’s chief inspiration of his Christian sketching ministry—the King James Version Bible.

He then picked out a white licorice snap from his box of snaps, and he did eat this, too.  He then turned to his repositories of all of his drawings for God—his two filing cabinets:  one, to the left of his desk; and the other, to the right of his desk.  And he said, “Thank You, God, for my two filing cabinets.”

The top drawer of his left filing cabinet was the repository of his blank, unlined loose sheets of

drawing paper of various sizes all ready for him to draw upon.  The bottom drawer of his left filing cabinet was the repository of his drawing books—hardcover and paperback books– with all-blank pages within upon which to draw a sketch.  In the top drawer of his right filing cabinet did Proffery Coins store his artistry of the first half of the years in his mission for Jesus.  And in the bottom drawer of this right filing cabinet did Proffery Coins store his artistry of the second half of the years in his mission for Christ.

He then picked out a pink licorice snap from the box, and he ate that up.

As anyone who knew Proffery could tell, he drew much of lions in the Scriptures.  It is no

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wonder that he and Mane were great friends.  And he drew much of Mane and of his girlfriend and of himself in his drawings outside of or within his work for God.  And every time he drew Bitsy Windemereshire, he always drew her in her women’s gymnastics leotard.  He never saw his girlfriend in anything other than a gymnastics leotard—and almost always only her Lilia Podkopayeva gymnastics leotard.  He loved her in it, and she loved being in it.  Even Mane, who lived with her, never saw her dressed otherwise.

In his earlier sketches of his beautiful girlfriend, Proffery portrayed her as a Christian in worship.  This made her surrealistically more beautiful to him.  In one drawing he sketched her in her gymnastics leotard praying to her Heavenly Father.  She was upon her bare knees; her shins were upon the grass and stretching back behind herself; her back curved as gymnast’s backs do curve; her arms covered in long sleeves were held up in front of her, bent at the elbows; her hands were palm-to-palm just before her chin;  her head of much black hair was bowed; her eyes were closed;  and a dove was descending down toward her from just above.  Proffery entitled this sketch, “Beguiler praying.”  In another drawing, Proffery Coins portrayed his gymnast girlfriend cherishing her Bible.  She was in her leotard, sitting upon her pillow at the head of her bed; her long-sleeved arms were holding the Bible tight against her breasts in endearment, the cover of the Holy Bible read, “King James Version”;  her lips were kissing the top of it at the edges of the pages; her lithe and supple legs were stretched out comfortably across the bed where she sat; the covers were underneath herself; and the headboard held her up where she sat.  Proffery entitled this drawing, “Beguiler in love with the Holy Bible.”  In another

drawing he presented her as a church woman.  She was in her gymnastics leotard standing in front of a Baptist church; the sign “Foundational Baptist Church” was engraved upon marble upon the front of this building, the name of this church above and behind where she was standing;  Pastor Minister and his wife Emmy were standing next to her—Pastor to her right; and Emmy to her left; the double doors were open and ready for Sunday Evening Worship; the waning sun of sunset was in the upper left

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corner; and the waxing moon of early evening in the blue sky was in the upper right corner.  And the title that Proffery Rule Coins gave this sketch was “The Baptist Beguiler.”  The very real and very lost Bitsy never posed for any of these Holy Spirit inspired drawing of Proffery.

But his later sketches of his lithe and supple and most attractive Bitsy Shea Windemereshire strayed from Holy Spirit inspiration.  He stopped drawing her as a born-again believer living for God.

He started to draw her as a temptress, a siren, a type of seductress.  These sketches were not dirty with

lasciviousness.  But they were dirty with subtle innuendo.   They glorified her body modestly covered with a woman’s gymnastics leotard doing her gymnastics tricks.  He drew sketches of her doing her gymnastics tricks on the vault, and he named them, “The Vault I,” “The Vault II,” and “The Vault III,” and so on.  Thus he drew all parts of the vault performed by his Bitsy from the run-up, to the pre-flight,

to the after-flight, to the landing.  And his special emphasis was her part with the vaulting horse itself.

And he drew sketches of her doing her gymnastics tricks on the balance beam, and he named them  “The Balance Beam I,” “The Balance Beam II,” “The Balance Beam III,” and so on.   Thus he drew all parts of the balance beam routine performed by his Bitsy in sundry and diverse flight routines, from the

mount to the dismount.  And his favorite drawing of her on the balance beam was of her landing upon the beam from a backwards somersault hard upon her bottom, her legs spread apart by the four inch width of the beam.  And he drew of Miss Windemereshire doing her tricks on the uneven parallel bars, thus naming them “The Uneven Parallel Bars I,” and “The Uneven Parallel Bars II,” and “The Uneven Parallel Bars III,” and so forth.  In these sketches, Proffery Coins drew everything that Bitsy did in her uneven parallel bars routine throughout many of these thirty-second routines in her competitions.  His most provocative drawings of her uneven parallel bars routines were those stalder swings that turned him on so.  She defined a stalder swing as “a deeply compressed straddle circle from handstand to handstand.”  But he defined it as “a girl showing what she has.”  In layman’s terms, this stalder swing was when a woman gymnast swung her body down below the high bar and bent her legs all the way

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behind herself as she swung, and her front down at the nether regions showed leotard crotch liner.  And Proffery sketched Bitsy Shea Windemereshire doing her tricks on the floor routine, naming them, of course, “The Floor Routine I,” and “The Floor Routine II,” and “The Floor Routine III,” et cetera.

This was Proffery Coins’s favorite women’s gymnastics routine to watch his girlfriend perform.  He said that this was better than watching a harem girl dance.  The floor routine lasted seventy to ninety seconds, and Proffery had the most pictures of Bitsy as a gymnast with her doing the floor routine.  He especially loved seeing her doing double saltos with her knees to her chest and her arms around her legs as she so loved to finish off many of her floor routines.  But he also illicitly enjoyed the rare times where she fell upon her bottom on the floor routine mat in a mistake.  That was enticing, too.  He drew floor routine sketches of the graceful saltos and the ungraceful falls.   All of these sketches of the woman gymnast doing her tricks did Bitsy Shea Windemereshire most gladly perform for her doting

and fond boyfriend.

Alone now here at his drawing desk in his drawing room with his drawing accouterments, Proffery, perhaps lusting now after his woman gymnast beguiler, thought to draw now a new and most provocative sketch. He knew what it would be about.  It would be the first of its kind for him.  It would be more exciting than any of her tricks.  He could entitle it, “Beguiler and Boyfriend Kissing.”  And he could make this sweet romantic mystery seem real to him.  That would be the closest that he ever got to kissing Bitsy.  It would also be like for him the closest that Bitsy ever got to kissing him.  And it lured him hook, line, and sinker.

But, behold, the still small voice of God the Holy Spirit speaking to him now in his heart. God was saying, “My son, draw instead “Beguiler Getting Saved.”  This genre of drawing of Bitsy Windemereshire was also brand new to him, despite his numerous spiritual drawings of her.  And not only that, but his Almighty God told him to go ahead and draw such a picture for Him.  But right now Proffery was not interested in spiritual drawings.  Right now Proffery was in a most pleasant fever

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a most carnal drawing.  Did he dare and disobey Almighty Good God?  Did he dare take a chance

of a lifetime with this romance sketch?  What would Jesus do?  But he was not Jesus.

It is written, “This I say then, Walk in the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfill the lust of the flesh.  For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh:  and these are contrary the one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would.”  Galatians 5: 16,17.

He must pray about this.  He would not pray about this.  He must draw for God again this time as in his other times.   He would not draw for God this time.  He must wait and see.  He would not wait and see.

And Proffery Rule Coins began to draw for his flesh and not for the Spirit.  And for the next few

hours he was “kissing” stunning Bitsy in a drawing forbidden by God.  And then it was all done.  And this was what the sketch ‘Beguiler and Boyfriend Kissing” looked like:  It was presented from the side.

The gymnast Bitsy in her Lilia Podkopayeva leotard and her boyfriend were facing each other as they were sitting upon a balance beam.  Her woman’s bare legs were straddling the beam; his legs in blue jeans were likewise.  She was to the left; he, to the right.  Her bare feet and his bare feet were some feet above the gymnastics mat below.  Girlfriend and boyfriend were holding hands, their arms straight down to both sides of the beam.  Her arms were covered in blue and white spandex; his arms, in blue and white plaid cotton.  Her back curved femininely.  Glitter lit up her beautiful black hair.  Their heads were cocked somewhat to the side.  Their eyes were closed. And their lips were touching in sweet magic of romance.  And never before had Proffery felt so virtual such a kiss before as he did now upon

beholding this masterpiece after some hours of intense work on this sketch.  He looked at his right hand and beheld his number nine lead pencil!  Behold, the drawing pencil he had never used!  This was a sign for him.  Surely he had done the right thing in drawing this sketch.  What he had just done must surely have been good.  And he was glad that he had drawn this first kiss on paper and pencil.  A kiss must be what had to be between him and Bitsy.  It was great on paper and pencil.  What would it be

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like with the real Bitsy on a real balance beam?  Would she be a great kisser for him?  Would he be a good kisser for her?

But his conscience told him that he had just sinned in disobeying the Word of the Lord.  His conscience told him to save his kisses for his wife were Bitsy and he to get married someday.  His conscience told him to repent and crumple up this most evocative and brave new genre of sketch.

But he shut the words of his conscience out of his mind and his heart.  He quenched the Holy Ghost.  He grieved the Holy Ghost.  He said, “No,” both to his conscience and to God.  And he fell into mesmerism upon staring at  “Beguiler and Boyfriend Kissing,”

The Lord Jesus Christ was disappointed at Proffery Rule Coins.

But still did not Proffery Rule Coins run off to Bitsy to go and do it right now.  Right now this sketch was good enough.  He would make more such sketches later, and those would satisfy him, too, like this one.  Perhaps, in the back of his mind, lots and lots of kisses on paper and pencil might not be so bad for a while.  Later on, maybe, maybe, he might try the real thing with the beautiful woman gymnast.  It is written, “A prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself: but the simple pass on, and are punished.”  Proverbs 22:3.  He was kind of afraid of actually kissing for real when it came right down to it.

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CHAPTER VI

“Lord, please save her soul.  She is too pretty to die and go to Hell,” prayed Regal Royal Sixpence, the Christian boyfriend to Redde.  “I care for Redde too much for that to happen.”

Right now he was in his breezeway—his favorite room of his house.  He continued his prayer for this special girl’s soul:  “I would be lonely in Heaven forever without her, Father.  I pray, Father:  ‘Open her blinded eyes.  Soften her hardened heart.  Give her unsaved mind understanding.’  Speak to her, O Lord.  Tell her what I have been telling her.  Do not give up on her soul.  I shall not give up on her soul.

I have come to call most fair Redde Westminster ‘My Trophy Girl.’  In her I have found beauty in a world full of sin and ugliness.  If a gal could get saved by her looks, she would be the first one in Heaven, O Lord.  If a gal could earn Heaven by feminine attraction, she would have the five crowns of Scripture on her head when she got There.  Surely Heaven would be an even more beautiful Place for me were she There with me in her redheaded beauty.  What is beauty, God?  Pastor calls beauty a pretty flower, a deer in the field, a pretty sunrise or sunset.  What is beauty for me, O God?  I call beauty a pretty girl in a pretty outfit.  Pretty Redde in her dress shirt and denim vest and blue jeans is my own ‘classy, snazzy girl.’  Lord, I have led nine hundred ninety-nine souls to so great and true salvation here

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in this breezeway.  I pray that my Redde be soul number one thousand here real soon sometime.”  He looked about himself in this breezeway.  This was his soul-winning room, and he was a mighty soul-winner.  But his most beloved soul—Redde Westminster—had never come into here even though they had been dating for some years now.  She did not love the Lord Jesus, and he loved the Lord Jesus.  He lived for reading his Bible and praying and going to church; and he especially loved witnessing to a lost and dying world, to tell others about the Saviour of the world.  But his girlfriend had nothing at all to do with these things that meant the most to him.

Once again just yesterday Regal Sixpence said to her, “Redde, Redde, you need Jesus.”

And she said back to him again, “What I need is a little hug from my boyfriend, Regal.”

She did not understand what her Christian boyfriend understood.  He did not understand why his lost girlfriend would say something like that.  Indeed was Regal Royal Sixpence unequally yoked together with a very beautiful and very unsaved girlfriend in his walk with God.   And he did not have strength in himself to break up with her, nor did he ask for strength from the Lord to break up with her.

He loved being with this exciting young woman.  She made life fun for him in a way different from how God made life fun for him.  Fun with her was fun for the sake of fun—everything that seemed okay in the eyes of Regal.  And fun with God was fun for the sake of satisfaction—all those faithful hours of worship he spent with the Lord all of his days as a child of God.  About that first embrace that she tempted him with all their years together:  Truthfully, that would be the funnest thing he could ever do with the very pretty and slim girl.  And he did wonder upon it even in his prayers with wonder.  But something about it seemed so bad in a way that he could see as a Christian and in a way that she could not see as not a Christian.  Pastor always said from the pulpit, “Young men, save your hugs for the marriage.”  Pastor was a most convincing teacher to this faithful member of his flock.  And Regal knew that he was accountable to God for how he submitted to Pastor’s authority as the shepherd of his flock.  In other words, Pastor was right.  And Redde never thought so.  And even now Regal did not want to

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think so.  He thought again about what this most especial room was all about.  It was all about witnessing to lost, searching, humble souls in need of the Saviour.  And as he again paused to admire this room, there was always that one thing he did want more with Redde Westminster than an embrace—and that was surely getting her born again in this room.  Despite his carnal life with the girl, his spiritual life still said that getting her saved from her sins was a lot more exciting even than giving her body a hug with his arms.  What is more exciting to any well-grounded believer than so great salvation itself?  And who is more exciting to any faithful Christian than his own personal Saviour Himself?

But Pastor prayed for him in his unequal yoke.  And in his Bible-reading one day, Regal Sixpence discovered Luke 16:10, which said, “He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much; and he that is unjust in the least is unjust also in much.”  If Regal proved himself faithful in resisting that first hug, God could entrust him to be faithful in even greater things.  But if Regal proved himself unfaithful and gave in to that first hug, then his Lord could not use him in greater works for the Lord.

Pastor one day gave Regal (and Proffery and Flanders) a most encouraging compliment as regarding their perfect church attendance for many years, saying to them, “There’s a strength being around a faithful Christian, and there’s a weakness being around an unfaithful Christian.”  In this praise of the three young men, he was calling them faithful Christians, and he was calling his other members of his flock unfaithful Christians.  As was his inerrant commitment to church, so was Regal’s inerrant commitment to Bible study and to prayer.  And only Pastor himself had won more souls to Christ than did Regal Royal Sixpence of the born-again Christians of their little Baptist church.  And Pastor prayed for the soul of Redde Steady Westminster in Regal’s unequal yoke.

He continued his prayer for the young woman here in this sanctuary the breezeway, “Lord, no thinking person would go and put his hand on the gas flame of a gas stove.  And yet Redde keeps rejecting Jesus every time I bring Him up, and she is stubbornly holding on to an eternity to come of burning in the fires of Hell.  Doesn’t she know how hot it will get for her way down there?  Her offense

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at Jesus—she needs to know that it is not worth going to Hell for.  No man suffered in this life more than Your Son did on the cross, O Father.  But I would bet that eternal damnation in the life to come is a more painful suffering even than the cross was for Jesus.  People jump out of burning buildings to die from a fall so that they don’t have to die from a fire.  Hell is the torments of the lake of fire for ever and ever.  And this fire is so scorching hot that it gives off no light whatsoever.”

He then said his official four-word prayer all about those who had come into this breezeway to get saved from the fires of Hell:  “I care; I believe.”  That is, he cared for this lost soul who had come in here in this breezeway in his or her time, and he believed that this soul would be saved when this person left this breezeway in his or her time.  “I believe; I care,” he now prayed for precious Redde who was not here in this time.  He believed that she still could get saved yet; and he cared for her soul more than he did any other soul in his whole life.

It was drawing now toward night now in this lonely breezeway for Regal Sixpence.  He got up and turned on the two lamps and paced about in here in reflection.  The one lamp was upon a little lamp table in the back left corner.  And the other lamp was upon his card table in the front right corner.  There were four doors in this breezeway.  The door on the wall to the right led up into the rest of the house.  The door on the wall to the left opened out into the garage.  The door on the wall along the back  opened out onto the backyard.  The door on the wall along the front opened out to the front yard.  In the

cozy and homey incandescent light of night in here, most comfortable darkness of night lay beyond the windows looking out back and the windows looking out front.  Upon the lamp table in the back corner were piles of all the types of salvation tracts that Pastor had given him from the church rack.  And upon the rickety and wobbly card table in the front corner was his sheets of won souls and a pencil and his King James Bible and a little pile of his church’s official door-to-door salvation tract.  Regal’s metal folding chair was in the back of the card table and near the middle of the room.  His visitor seeking Christ would sit in the metal folding chair along the side of the card table, near the front door.  About

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these sheets of all his won souls, these were his official records of all the souls that he had won for Christ in this great refuge of a room—all nine hundred ninety-nine of them.  This was the only thing that Regal or any Christian could take with them to Heaven—the souls of those whom they had led to Christ.  Proffery endearingly called his little book “My Lamb’s Book of Life.”  In the Holy Bible, it is written, “And whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire.”  Revelation 20:15.  Thus those people whose names are not written in God’s book of life went to Hell.  And those people whose names are written in God’s book of life went to Heaven.  In sum, when the Bible talks about the book of life, it is talking about a book in Heaven with all the names of all the born-again Christians everywhere past and present and future.  Also it is written in the Word of God about the Lamb’s book of life, “And there shall in no wise enter into it any thing that defileth, neither

whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie:  but they which are written in the Lamb’s book of life.”  Revelation 21:27.  Thus, no one can come into Heaven whose sins have not been cleansed and

forgiven and redeemed by Jesus Christ.  That is, all born-again believers get to go to Heaven, and all who are not born-again believers can never get to go to Heaven.  And this Lamb’s book of life is a list of all who got saved thus from their sins.  And Regal Royal Sixpence, in his most efficacious ministry in this breezeway had his own little Lamb’s Book of Life of his nearly one thousand won souls in his witnessing.  His little book was made of forty loose yellow sheets with ruled lines and writings in pencil.  Each page had twenty-five souls written in longhand printing (and the last page had yet twenty-four souls, one more waiting to fill it up.  On each line he had written the number of the soul in Roman numerals in chronological order, then the name of the soul, then the date of the time that soul had prayed for salvation.  Soul I on his Lamb’s Book of Life was Mom herself.  Soul V on his Lamb’s Book of Life was little brother.  Soul X on his Lamb’s Book of Life was big brother.  Soul L on his Lamb’s Book of Life was little sister.  Soul C on his Lamb’s Book of Life was big sister.  Soul D on his Lamb’s

Book of Life was his best friend.  And soul CMXCIX on his Lamb’s Book of Life was Dad himself.

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And the next soul on his Lamb’s Book of life?  Soul M soon to come?  “Lord, let it be my boxer girlfriend Redde!” he said right out loud in impromptu intercession.  And again his Heavenly Father heard him from His throne in Heaven.

Regal Sixpence then noticed his four bags of Cornuts on his card table as he sat here reflecting and praying and pondering souls of men and women and children.  One flavor was ranch flavor.  One flavor was original flavor.  One flavor was barbecue flavor.  And one flavor was nacho cheese flavor.

He began first with Ranch Cornuts, his favorite, taking one out of the blue bag and eating it.

Would that he could have a date with his girlfriend in here.  Surely in this room she would not tempt him to put his arms around her.  Surely in here she would not think about putting her arms around him.  This was a very most holy room.  Only the Baptist church down the road was more filled up with Jesus than was this breezeway.  But she said that his breezeway spooked her.  She said that it was “too much religion.”  She said that it sounded like it were too bare and that it did not have enough furniture in it to make her feel comfortable.  And this breezeway was the only room of his whole house that she had not come into.  She would not even look through the windows to see what it looked like inside, much less enter into it from any of its four doors.  And she definitely did not wish that he would keep talking to her about her becoming his Soul M on his book of lists.  “I don’t want to be another soul in your book, Regal.  I want to be your girlfriend in a hug!”

And saved boyfriend and unsaved girlfriend did get into many fights over his cause for her soul and over her cause for a hug.  He feared her sometimes for her tenacity and feminine charms with all of her temptations for “just a quick little embrace, just one.”  And he feared himself at times for thoughts maybe about giving up on her soul and for thoughts maybe of seeking his satisfaction with her by way of “just such a quick little embrace, just one.”  Would he eventually forget Soul M and look for the hug instead with the so-attractive and well-dressed lost girlfriend?  Would that be called “backsliding?”

What else bad may happen in his Christian walk were he to continue dating this heathen girlfriend?

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It is written, “All things are lawful unto me, but all things are not expedient:  all things are lawful for me, but I will not be brought under the power of any.”  I Corinthians 6:12.  Again it is written, “All

things are lawful for me, but all things are not expedient:  all things are lawful for me, but all things edify not.”  I Corinthians 10:23.

As he sat there in his breezeway of lamplight, he found himself growing sleepy.  He took our an original Cornut from his little white bag and ate it.  The bag said that Cornuts were choking hazards for children under four years old.  He was twenty-five years old.  He would hardly choke.  He looked out of his window from where he sat and did see his reflection of himself sitting.  He knew about reflections on a double window.  And he went about to pass his one hand’s reflection of the inner window across his same hand’s reflection of the outer window.  This must be some Physics puzzle that God did make in His creation.  It could not work with only a single window.  He looked at his face in the dark window.  Because this was a mirror image—his reflection—he knew that what he saw in his face was all backwards from what others saw in his face.  Left was right, and right was left.  He remembered more fascinating puzzles wrought by the Maker in reference to reflections.  There were times as he sat here that he had the door to the rest of the house open wide to his left as he sat here.  His anteroom was behind this door.  And in the window of night of this breezeway in such cases he could see the reflection of his bookcase in his anteroom around the bend and behind the open door.  But he could not see this bookcase for real from where he sat.  The image of the bookcase he could see in this window, but the real bookcase he could not see in the real house!  The Maker’s ways with angles!  God works Physics of light in mysterious ways!

Regal then took out a barbecue Cornut from his little red bag and did eat it.  He saw now that a full moon was shining in through his window upon himself, the moon’s dim white light adding to this room’s bright yellow light of lamps.  He gazed upon the moon.  One did not dare to gaze upon the sun; but one could always gaze upon the moon. Reflected light was not as bright as real light.  His eyes

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grew more sleepy.  Mom had told him many times that the moon was made out of green cheese.  Mom liked blue cheese and hot pepper cheese.  Regal liked smoked cheese and extra sharp cheddar cheese.

Big Brother liked cheese curds and string cheese.  And funny how farmers officially called cheese that was orange “yellow cheese”; and cheese that was white “yellow cheese.”  This Wisconsin was truly America’s Dairy land.  New York people did not have great cheese like Wisconsin people did.   The big

white circle in the dark sky had a hypnotic effect upon Regal Sixpence here in the night.  And he fell asleep in front of his Lamb’s Book of Life here in the breezeway where he sat.

He opened his eyes, and it was daylight of dawn.  What a crazy thing to do like this, sleep all night sitting up in a chair.  But he was comfortable, nonetheless.  And he felt refreshed.  And he was ready for a new day on a day off from work.  Behold, a pair brown leather boxing gloves with the name “Everlast” in white letters upon them, there upon his card table.  Truly these belonged to Redde Westminster.  How did these get in here?  Where did they come from?  Had his girlfriend been in here while he slept?  He saw his Cornuts and his Lamb’s Book of Life and his King James Bible and his tracts and his pencil here upon his card as per custom.  He then took a nacho cheese Cornut from the orange bag and did eat it.  In truth he had never had Miss Westminster’s boxing gloves upon this table before, though.  In fact his girlfriend had so eschewed this room of evangelism that not one thing of hers had ever come into this holy room.  She never came in; nothing that belonged to her ever came in.  In fact this was the one thing for which she contemned her Christian boyfriend for more than one time—this most Godly breezeway.  But her boxing gloves were here without her right now as Regal sat alone and wondering.

They did look quite pretty.  They were pretty like their owner.  And she looked prettier with them on.  He could put them on.  He should put them on right now.  He would do that.  And he donned his girlfriend’s boxing gloves on both of his hands.  They felt good on.  They felt like a hug.  It was like most fair Redde were embracing both of his hands.  It felt good.  And because he was a little man, her

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women’s boxing gloves were not too small for his hands.  He knocked them together as prize fighters did often before the bell rang for the bout.  He wanted now to make like his girlfriend.  He wanted to get in the ring right now in this breezeway all alone with no one to see him.  He desired to make believe that he was taking on a woman in the ring. He wanted to make believe that he was a woman in the ring.  He would become the professional woman boxer Redde Steady Westminster right now with only God watching him.  The pretender knocked the gloves against each other again.  Then he went into a most playful and novel choreography with the brown gloves.  He was Redde throwing a punch into another woman’s face and seeing dizziness come upon that other woman’s eyes.  He was Redde

taking a punch in her face, and her vision falling toward a faintness.  He was Redde throwing a punch into another woman’s belly and seeing that other woman bend down forward from the blow.  He was Redde taking a punch in her own belly and bending down forward with pain.  He was “in this prize fight” act for quite a while, and it was really quite exhilarating and fun for fun’s sake.  And in the end, he was his girlfriend taking a vicious uppercut from the other woman in the ring, and having her knees buckle from underneath herself and falling unconscious to the canvas and lying there out cold with her gloves on.  This was the first time that “Redde got knocked out in the ring.”  It was not real.  But it was most entertaining in a worldly way for her experimenting boyfriend and fan right now.  Then “she came to where she lay.”  And Regal was content from this new game.  He got up now from the floor of his breezeway, came up to his little card table, and took off the gloves, and put them back upon the table right where he had found them.  Redde needed not to know what he had just done without anyone watching.

He then grabbed four more Cornuts—one from each bag—and he did munch on them where he stood.  If her gloves were here alone with him now, did that mean that she had come here alone on her own and left them here for him?  Or did that mean that she had been here with him recently on a date?

He did not remember any date with her in here for real—not lately and truly never.  He tried to

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think of when and where he had last seen Redde.  He could not remember right now of when and where that last date might have been.  It was not here.  It was like it was not anywhere.  He could not even remember of any time before here and now.  All he knew was that suddenly he was here in this breezeway with her gloves upon his card table with all of his soul-winning literature and records.

And, now that his prize fight game was done, he remembered the great burden he had for the soul of his precious girlfriend.  And he was sorrowful now in this usually happy breezeway.  His Redde was still lost and going to Hell.  And he remembered so-elusive soul M that never was.  And he groaned in grief for a beautiful young woman’s soul.  How vain was the life of his woman boxer were she to die and go to Hell forever.  He thought upon selfish thoughts for her and wished toward God that he could trade one hundred souls written in his Lamb’s Book of Life for her one soul to be written in his Lamb’s Book of Life.  “Take away a hundred names and put in her one name,” he thought out loud to his Heavenly Father.  God did not want to hear that.  He ought not to have said that.  The Lord was no respecter of persons.  Neither should be Regal.  And he apologized to Jesus for that.

Regal Sixpence then took his eternal list of its forty pages and began to page through it and reminisce over all the people whom he had led through their sinners’ prayers unto their own salvation.

There were men and boys of all ages, and there were women and girls of all ages who made up this everlasting list.  He relived his many moments wherein he finished his work on a soul, saying, “In Jesus’s name.  Amen,” and his seeking soul saying after him, “In Jesus’s name.  Amen.”  By way of this prayer, nine hundred ninety-nine souls alone with Regal Royal Sixpence did accept the free gift of eternal life here in this most holy breezeway.  And he and Jesus rejoiced in joy now as he remembered most good and happy things done by the Saviour of the world here.

He then came to the last page of this Lamb’s Book of Life of his.  He scanned it top to bottom.

He saw most unexpectedly Soul M with a name and a date of salvation.  Why, that name was Redde Steady Westminster!  And the date was September 31, 1999!  Redde had been here after all!  She must

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have been here with him then!  She had come here finally to at last get right with God.  Here it was—the culmination of his Lamb’s Book of Life– Soul M.  Redde Steady Westminster had come to this breezeway lost, and Redde Steady Westminster had left this breezeway saved! Soul number one thousand, his most important soul of souls, was just exactly she, as he had prayed for so hard and so long recently.  It was like all of his problems were now behind him.  He was going to have his redhead girlfriend with him and Jesus now for forever in Heaven to come.  And he could teach her the great hymn that she could now sing, “It Is Well With My Soul.”  He said now, “God is good, and God is great!”  Grandma used to say that when she gave thanks for her food at her table.  All of this was a dream come true.

Just then he opened his eyes, and he saw his breezeway of night.  He remembered everything of the breezeway of the day just now.  He quickly grabbed his Lamb’s Book of Life and sought Soul M at the bottom of page 40.  Her name had to be there, still.  Her name was not there.  It had never been there.  It was all a dream.  And his dream had not come true.  Her name would never be there.  He groaned in great sadness.  And he prayed, “Father, my Redde is lost as a goose in a snowstorm.”

His vexation of spirit gave his words a sarcasm toward the woman he so cherished.  And never before had Regal been so disappointed with life’s vicissitudes.  Then he remembered her brown boxing gloves.  And of course they were not there upon the card table now, either.  And now Regal fell upon most doleful discouragement.  And he sought to try to encourage himself in the Lord.

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CHAPTER VII

The mistresses’ pets were gathered together to play their fun animal games together.  The unicorn and the lion and the griffin did this lots when their mistresses were out on a date with their boyfriends, but these games were animal-only games.  Stables and Mane and Battles loved to play their

pet-and-mistress games, and they loved to play these animal-only games, also.  They played among each other three different games each time they got together like this, three games that the wise and thinking animals had come up with in their instinct of imagination.

Stables the unicorn referred to these three games collectively as “Sky And Land And Water.”

Mane the lion called this gamut, “Tag.”

And Battles the griffin called this threesome, “War Games.”

And the game that was to be played next was determined by the rules of the game by which animal was “It” for that game.  Were the unicorn “It,” they would play what he called, “Land,”  Were the lion “It,” they played what the unicorn called, “Sky,”  And were the griffin “It,” they played what the unicorn called, “Water.”

At once, filled with the spirit of sport, Mane declared, “I’m ‘It!’”  The three animals were now to play their game in the sky.

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“Ah,” said Battles, “the risky game first.”

“Are you up to this?” asked Stables.

“I have faith in the two of you,” said Mane.

“Just don’t fall,” said Battles.  “We have wings.  You do not.”

“I am the King of the Beasts.” said Mane.  “I will not miss.”

“Which one do you want to ride first?” asked Stables.

“You, my fine unicorn,” said Mane.

“Then I will be the one you land on first,” said Battles.

“You can catch a lion better than a unicorn can, my good griffin,” said Mane.

“I myself am half-lion, Mane,” said Battles.

“Oh yeah.  That’s right,” said Mane.

“Are we ready?” asked Stables, lowering his unicorn back for Mane.

“Yes!” said the three animals with gusto.  And Mane climbed out onto Stables’s back and stood there, ready for flight.  Stables spread his great white equine wings out broad and far, and he began to lift up off of the ground with the full-grown adult male lion there upon his unicorn’s back.  In like, Battles also lifted up off of the ground.  And the three pets ascended a thousand feet into the sky.

Looking down while standing upon Stables’ back, Mane saw Battles getting into game position about ten feet below him way up here in the sky.  “I think that I am ready, Battles,” called forth the lion.

Battles looked up from where he was flying and saw lion and unicorn above him in flight.  “I am ready, too, Mane,” called forth the griffin.

“Jump!” proclaimed Stables.

And Mane the lion leaped off of flying Stables’s back and landed most skillfully ten feet below upon flying Battles’s back.  “Did it!” declared the great lion.

“Well done,” said Stables.

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“Another perfect ten,” said Battles.

“Again!” prodded Mane, as the three were enjoying this game.

“This time you jump off of me,” said Battles.

“And you land upon me,” said Stables.

“Let the games continue!” said Mane in exhilaration.

And Battles in flight lined up, getting ready for Mane’s second jump.  And Stables in flight lined up just below, about ten feet beneath griffin and lion.  Mane was standing strong and sure upon Battles’s back.  “Are you ready?” called up Stables from below.

“I am ready,” said Battles.

“I am ready,” said Mane.

“And I am ready, too,” said Stables.

“Jump!” called out Battles.  And the lion jumped his second jump, and he landed safely and most athletically upon Stables’s back, having fallen ten feet down way up here.

“Good job!” said Stables.

“Perfect execution!” said Battles.

“My teammates make it easy for me,” said Mane in praise of his playmates here in the sky, as he stood upon Stables’s back between his wings a hundred stories in the sky.

“Shall we let the game continue?” cheered Battles in rally.

“Let the game continue!” said Stables in cheer.

“Again!” said Mane.  “Again!”

And the lion went on to jump again from the unicorn onto the griffin in this manner, and then again from the griffin onto the unicorn in these rules of the game.  And the three pets played this sport in a slow descent until they had all three safely descended back upon the ground.  Mane stepped back upon the earth and said, “That was fun, guys.  But it is still good for me that I am back on solid

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ground.”

“God did not give wings to lions,” said Battles.

“In our games, we will be your wings,” said Stables to Mane.

“Thank you both,” said Mane.

Their first game of three was now done.  Now they had a second game to play next.  Who would volunteer to be “It,” now between the two of them not “It” yet?  “Then I will be ‘It,’” said Stables.  This meant that their next game would be played on the land.

“We griffins make worse runners than we do fliers,” confessed Battles.

“We unicorns are born to run,” said Stables.

“I can run like a tiger,” said Mane.

Looking around, Stables said, “Where might there be a road around here?  We need a road for this game.”

“Shall it be a state highway or a county trunk or a gravel road?” asked Mane.

“Gravel roads are hard on lion paws,” said Battles on behalf of himself and Mane.  “Though they be not hard on unicorn hooves.”

“A state highway is usually busy with traffic,” said Stables.

“Let us play the game on a County Trunk Road,” said Mane.

“I know of County Trunk Y not far from here at all,” said Battles.

“Let us go and play Land on County Trunk Y,” said Stables.

“There are never lots of travelers on County trunks,” said Mane.

And the three competitors very soon reached the county highway.  Mane asked, “Stables, do you ride a running lion on land as well as you carry a standing lion in the air?”

“I do,” vowed Stables.

Then Battles asked, “Stables, do you ride running griffins without getting in the way of my

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wings?”

“I shall,” promised Stables.

Mane said, “Pick the one that you wish to ride first, Stables.”

And Stables pointed his unicorn horn at Mane, saying, “Your gait is smoother than Battles’s gait.  I shall start off our game number two on your back, O Mane.”

And Mane lowered his back for the unicorn to climb up onto.  Battles lined up beside him.  Stables mounted Mane.  Mane was in the left lane of the road, and Battles was in the right lane of the road.  They were getting ready for a long sprint.

Battles said, “No cheating, Stables.  You cannot use your wings in this game.”

“Nor can you, Battles,” said Stables.

“Don’t go too far away from me in this game, Battles,” said Mane.

“Yes,” said Stables.  “I need the both of you not far away from each other, and perfectly side-by-side like now.”  A silent moment passed, then Stables made ready this game, saying, “On your mark.  Get ready.  Get set.  Go.”

And griffin riderless and lion with his rider began to run as fast as they could down the blacktop road, staying side by side, and playing the game. Standing upon Mane in sprint, Stables studied the griffin in sprint to his right, getting ready for his own roll as the one who was “It” in this game of Land.

And when he felt that the time was right, the unicorn leaped off of the running lion, went through the air without using his wings five feet, and landed adeptly right upon the running griffin’s back.  The mighty griffin slowed now from his run from this great weight landing upon his back.  And the powerful lion was careful not to get ahead of the griffin now that the great unicorn was no longer on his back.  This was not a race between lion and griffin.  This was a game of leapfrog for the unicorn.

And this wild game was risky in its own right for the unicorn who was doing the leaping.  The fleet running continued for the two bearers of burden.  Now Stables was looking to his left at the running

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lion as he stood upon the running griffin’s back.

“Do your countdown, Stables,” said Battles.

“Like at Cape Kennedy or Cape Canaveral,” said Mane,

“Which one is it now?” asked Stables.

“I don’t know,” said Mane.

“I don’t know, either,” said Battles.

“Nor do I,” said Stables.

“You already kind of said that when you asked,” said Battles.

And Stables began his countdown, “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…blast off!”  And he leaped off of the griffin, went through the air five feet, and landed back upon the lion to his left.

Stables now looked to the griffin to his right from atop the lion.  “Another successful N.A.S.A.

launch, Stables,” said Battles.

“N.A.S.A.,” said Mane.  “National Aeronautics and Space Association.”

“No, Mane,” said Battles.  “I believe that that is ‘National Aeronautics and Space Administration.’”

“Astronauts and cosmonauts and confused lions,” said Stables.

“What does that mean?” asked Mane.

“It is nonsense,” said Stables.

“Ah, our unicorn waxes nonsensical again,” said Battles.

“Edward Lear is my star,” said Stables.  “He is the master of nonsense in his humor.”

“Do jump, O unicorn,” said Mane.  “Your actions, I hope, will make more sense than your words,”

“I am a unicorn of action,” said Stables.  And he surveyed the scene, got ready, and did jump

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from Mane back again upon Battles to his right.  And he began to chatter much about his greatness in this game.

“And I can see that you are a unicorn of words, as well,” said Mane.

“Well said, Mane,” said Battles.

“Everyone pick on the one who is ‘It,” said Stables.  Then he said, “One more jump.”

“Two more jumps,” recommended Mane.

“Three more jumps,” recommended Battles.

“Four more jumps,” thought Stables out loud.  And Stables jumped and landed back upon the lion to his left as lion and griffin continued on in their run side by side.

And they continued on in this game on the land, Stables leaping back and forth between Mane and Battles.  Then they grew weary and quit their second game of the day.

They rested up for a while.  Then Battles said, “Now it is my turn to be ‘It.’”

“Say it,” said Stables.

And Battles said it, “I am ‘It.’”

Now was the time for their third and final game of the day, the one played in the waters.  Stables said now, “Does anyone here know where there might be a creek or a lake or a river or a pond or a sea around here?”

“Unicorn, we are a thousand miles away from the nearest sea,” said Mane.

“But we are not a thousand miles away from the closest lake,” said Battles.

“Where is this lake?” asked Stables.

“I don’t know of any lake in particular,” said Battles.  “I just know that wherever this nearest lake might be, it is not a thousand miles away from here.”

Mane spoke up and said, “I know of a Young’s Lake in Pembine.  That’s not far from here.”

Battles asked, “Is it a big enough lake for our game of Water?”

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“That it is,” said Mane.

“Let us walk now to Young’s Lake and continue our games,” said Stables.

“I will lead the way,” said Mane.

And the three sporting pets walked to Young’s Lake not far away.  As they stood there on the banks of the big lake, Stables said, “Forbid the thought that I should get my wings all wet.”

“Your wings get all wet every time we three play Water, Stables,” said Battles.  “Why is this time different?”

“I have handsome white wings,” bragged Stables in jest.

“And I have handsome brown wings,” said Battles. “And I am not afraid to get them wet.”

“I am playing animal games with Narcissus I and Narcissus II,” said the lion who had no wings.

Mane began to stroke his mane ostentatiously with his right lion paw.

“Then what do we have here in our lion showing off the mane that he has that I do not have?” asked Battles.

“Why, here we have Narcissus III,” teased Stables.  “I have a mane, too.  But it is on the back of  my neck.”

“Your mane is white, but mine is tawny,” bragged Mane on his leonine form.  And the lion roared in great show.

“As for myself,” said Battles the griffin in boasting, “I am the only one of us three who is a hybrid.  Both of you are just simple single animals.”

“Half-lion and half-eagle,” said Stables about Battles.

“Yeah,” said Mane in boasting, “Battles and I both have lion blood in our veins and arteries, Stables.  You do not.”

“But at least I am not all lion,” bragged Battles upon his great avian half.

“Too bad for you,” teased Mane right back.

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Then Stables spoke and said, “I think that I am ready to jump in,”

“Me, too,” said Battles.

“Grammatically correct, one must say in this example, ‘I, too,’” corrected Stables.

“Me, too,” said Mane right after.  Then he corrected himself and said, “I, too.”

And the three animal competitors jumped into Young’s Lake and began their third game of the three in the water.  Battles sat upon the back of Mane as Mane swam out toward the middle of the lake.

And Stables was a short distance from the two as he swam out with them deep into the lake.  And when the three animals came upon the deepest part of the lake in this game of Water, Stables went ahead according to their rules of the game, and submerged his whole unicorn form—head and horn and hide and all—down into the lake and out of sight.  It was the riding Battle’s job as being “It,” to go down now into the lake and to try to find him.  At once Battles leaped off of Mane and flew out to the place in the lake where last he had seen Stables, and dove down into the lake and beneath its surface to go and find the hiding unicorn.  It did not take the savvy griffin long before he found him.  With his eagle talon he tagged Stables on his unicorn horn under the lake in indication that he found him.  And Stables and Battles came back up out of the water and reappeared to Mane who was waiting.

“One point!  One point!  One point!” boasted Battles of this conquest that started out this game for him so well.

Mane said, “None of our animal games have points to them, Battles,”

“Oh, but I can pretend,” said Battles.

“Our games have no losers,” said Stables.  “And our games have no winners,”

“We just play for the cause of play,” said Battles in truth.

“My turn now,” said Mane.

“You have to be on my back now as I swim, Battles,” said Stables.

“The rules of the game,” agreed Battles.  And he mounted Stables’s back there in the water and

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awaited Mane’s next play.  He and Stables were not far away from Mane where he swam.  And without delay Mane put his head under the water and put the rest of himself underneath the water, and the lion disappeared somewhere down in the lake.  Now Battles had to go and find Mane somewhere in this lake.  He flew off of Stables, reached the place in the lake where last he had seen the lion, and hovered above the surface of the waters like a seagull looking for a fish.  Then he dove in down into the lake, and he tagged Mane on his lion head with his eagle talon to indicate to him that he had found him.  And  the lion and the griffin ascended back up to the surface of the lake.  There was Stables, waiting from not far away.

“Another point for me, Stables, Mane,” said Battles in victory talk.

“You wish,” said Stables in funny rebuttal.

“I should get at least half of that point,” said Mane in more nonsense for the day among the competitors.

“What do I get?” asked Stables.

“You get to hear our griffin keep asking for more and more points on his scorecard,” said Mane.

“You do, too,” said Stables.

“Poor me,” Mane said.

“Lucky me,” said Battles.

Then Mane said, “Now it is my turn to carry the griffin who is ‘It.’”

And Stables said, “Now it is my turn again to hide from the griffin who is ‘It.’”

Following the cue, Battles mounted Mane once again and awaited the hiding of Stables.  And Stables went ahead and hid himself down into the lake.  Like a hunter, Battles flew off to where Stables was last seen upon the lake, and he dove in like a bird of prey, and he found him and tagged him very quickly.  And griffin and unicorn reemerged out of the waters.

“My!  You never did that so quickly before, Battles,” said Mane, impressed.

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“I never had a chance that time,” said Stables at a loss for a sly retort.

“What can I say?” asked Battles.  And he answered his own question, saying, “I am good.”

“Battles, I am surprised that you don’t now say, ‘That was worth two points,’” said Stables.

“Or maybe three points,” teased Mane the griffin’s proud words.

“Just call me ‘champion for the day,’” boasted Battles.

“Once more,” said Mane, desiring the resumption of Water.

“A little more game and a little less talk,” said Stables in agreement.

One last play of game for the day, Battles mounted Stables on the water; Mane swam out a way and went down into the lake to hide; and Battles flew off of the unicorn in search for the lion below.

Battles could not see Mane in the water with his piercing eagle eyes this time as he hovered above the lake.  He then dove in to look with his eagle eyes underwater.  He could not see Mane down in here, either, with his sharp eyes.  He began to wonder whether he might not find him.  Battles was not one to lose.  Nobody lost their game in their turn of being “It,” all day today.  He did not want to be the only one.  Suddenly he saw Mane, hiding behind a large rock at the bottom of the lake.  Victory!  He won!

Battles tagged Mane.  And both came up out of the water.  Stables was there, having waited very long this time for Battles.

“This time it took you the longest to find the hider, Battles,” said Stables.

“The lion is clever,” said Battles, “very clever.”

“You almost lost the last game of the day,” said Stables.

“The lion is clever, very clever,” reiterated the griffin.

“How could you let an animal without wings outsmart you?” asked Stables.

“That’s easy, Stables,” broke Mane right in.  “He is only half-lion, and I am whole-lion.”

And now the three animals were content after their games for the day.  They were tired and happy and in need of rest.

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Stables said, “That was fun.  Now I wish to come back home and be with my mistress.”

Mane said, “I want to be with my mistress, too.  But I look forward to our next games in the countryside.”

And Battles said, “I miss my mistress, as well.  I am ready to go back home.  Thanks for the fun

and for all of our trash talk as we were having our fun.”

“Until next time, Mane, Battles,” said Stables.

“I will be there, Stables, Battles,” said Mane.

“Farewell for now, Stables, Mane,” said Battles.

And having said their “Good-bye’s,” to today’s diversions together, the three pets all went their separate ways back home to their mistresses.

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CHAPTER VIII

Flanders Nickels and Aphrodite Tea were on a date together alone in her four little sand dunes

amid the tall field grass of her big rural yard.  She had with her her comb and her brush.  He had with him his Holy Bible.  He liked her comb and her brush because with them she made her angelic brown hair look even more angelic.  She did not like his Holy Bible, because it made her have to think about Jesus.  But he and she made a bargain:  If he let her bring her comb and her brush with her on their date today way out here in back, then she had to let him bring his Holy Bible with him on their date back here today, too.  Once they got here at the four sand dunes, Aphrodite sat herself down upon the sand, spread out her black denim skirt about herself where she sat, and began to comb and to brush her brunette’s beautiful hair.  Flanders watched her as she did all this, his man’s heart enamored much with this young woman.

Knowing all about his love for writing—both his Christian short stories and his Christian novels—from all the things that he had been telling her all of their years together, Aphrodite most knowledgeably said, “I can tell that your novels are almost always all about griffin masters and griffin mistresses and unicorn masters and unicorn mistresses.”

“Yes, girl!” said Flanders.  “I write novels all about griffins and griffin keepers and unicorns and

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unicorn keepers,”

“Some of those keepers have whole families of griffins or unicorns that they take care of,” said

Aphrodite.

“You know, Aphrodite.  You read my novels,” said the writer, flattered.

“I can tell, also, Flanders, that you take your writing even more seriously than I take my singing,” said Aphrodite.

“I love to hear you sing, Aphrodite,” he said.

“I try my hardest to sing the best that I can,” she said.  “I can tell from reading all of your novels that when you write for God, as you call it, that you also try to do the best you can, and you do it for God.”

“To God be the glory for my writing,” praised Flanders Nickels his Divine inspiration.

“As you tell me, Flanders, ‘Writing is not meant for the lazy.’” said Aphrodite.  “You are not a writer who just goes and does a sloppy or poor or bad job when he writes.”

“Just as God required a perfect animal sacrifice in the Old Testament, He also now requires an equally qualified novel here in the twenty-first century from a writer like myself,” praised Flanders Nickels his Judge.

“I heard you say things just like that before a few times,” said Aphrodite. “God did not want Old Testament worshipers to sacrifice bad animals on the altar.  Nor does God want you to offer a bad novel in your worship of writing here in these days.”  This talk about the God of Whom she did not know as Flanders knew did not bother the lost Aphrodite this time.  It was not like he were preaching Jesus at her right now as the Saviour of the world.

“I have two pairs of Bible verses that tell all about that to me.  Those two passages of Scripture are my official Bible verses of my Christian novels,” said Flanders Nickels.

She paused for a moment, then went ahead and asked him, “What do they both say?”

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“They are both in the book of Malachi, the last book of the Old Testament,” he said.  And he opened his King James Bible and searched the Scriptures for Malachi.  And he found his verses.

And he read out loud to Aphrodite his most intimate fan, “’Ye offer polluted bread upon mine altar; and ye say, Wherein have we polluted thee?  In that ye say, The table of the Lord is contemptible.  And if ye offer the blind for sacrifice, is it not evil?  And if ye offer the lame and sick, is it not evil?  Offer it now unto thy governor; will he be pleased with thee, or accept thy person? Saith the Lord of hosts.’

That is Malachi 1:7-8.  And this other one, too, Aphrodite:  ‘Ye said also, Behold, what a weariness is it!  And ye have snuffed at it, saith the Lord of hosts; and ye brought that which was torn, and the lame, and the sick; thus ye brought an offering:  should I accept this of your hand? Saith the Lord.  But cursed be the deceiver, which hath in his flock a male, and voweth, and sacrificeth unto the Lord a corrupt thing:  for I am a great King, saith the Lord of hosts, and my name is dreadful among the heathen.’  That, Aphrodite, is Malachi 1:13-14.”

“Your God of writing is strict,” said Aphrodite.

“My God deserves only my best from me,” he said.

“It sounds so hard,” she said.  “Is writing for God hard?”

“Oh, it may be hard work—but it is not hard for me to do, Aphrodite,” said the professional Christian author.  “I love to write for God.  And most of what makes it so fun for me is that I do the best that I can do with it each time I sit down to write.”

Astute, his girlfriend said, “It sounds to me that it would not be fun for you to write if you just let yourself write garbage, Flanders.”

“I guess that I love the challenge of writing a good novel,” he said, happy with his Christian ministry as he talked with the girl.

“You always make sure to put lots of Bible verses in your books, Flanders,” said Aphrodite.

“King James Version Bible verses, Aphrodite,” he said.  “My only perfect Words in my

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writings.  My words are imperfect; God’s Words are perfect.”

“You said that you have a great idea for your next novel, Flanders,” said Aphrodite.

“Uh huh, Aphrodite,” he said.

“Is it going to be about all nine of us?” she asked.

“Yes, Aphrodite,” he said.

“Do you have a title for it yet?” she asked.

“Aye, Aphrodite,” he said.

“What’s it called?” she asked.

“Unequally Yoked Together,” he told her.

“Not a pretty title for your novels like all the other titles,” she said.

“Indeed not,” he said.  “But perhaps the best title for the book per se.”

“I like it,” she said.

“I think that I will make it have a happy ending,” he said.

“Then good prevails over evil?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.  “God’s will be done.”

“God’s will is good,” she said.

“His will be done in my short stories as in my novels,” said Flanders Nickels.

“You’ve written even more stories than you have novels,” said Aphrodite.

“Twenty to thirty pages each, Aphrodite,” he did say.

“Your stories,” she said.                                                                                                                                      “Yes, indeed, Aphrodite,” he said.                                                                                                            “Your stories are long.  Your novels are short,” she said.

“Two hundred to three hundred pages each,” he said.

“Your novels,” she said.

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“Yep!” he said.

“And you have two official Scripture verses for your short story writing as you do for your novel writing, don’t you, Flanders?” she asked, having the personal knowledge of a confidante.

“You know me too well, woman,” he said.

“They are in Leviticus,” she said, “wherever that book is in the Bible.”

“The third book of Moses,” he said.  “Chapter 22.”

“And they say to you the same thing as those other two passages of Bible verses say to you,” she said.

“Yes, they say to me, ‘When you write your short story, do the best you can for God.’” summed up the Christian author.

“I am ready to hear the first one of the two,” said Aphrodite Tea.

And he recited before her without opening his King James Bible, “’Blind, or broken, or maimed, or having a wen, or scurvy, or scabbed, ye shall not offer these unto the Lord, nor make an offering by fire of them upon the altar unto the Lord.’  Leviticus 22:22.”  Then he vowed, “I will not write a bad story for my Saviour.”

“And let’s hear the second one of the two, Flanders,” said his girlfriend Aphrodite.

Again he recited the verse without looking at it:  “’Ye shall not offer unto the Lord that which is bruised, or crushed, or broken, or cut; neither shall ye make any offering thereof in your land.’  Leviticus 22:24.”  Then he promised again, “I will never write garbage in any story for my Lord.”

“Flanders, do you want to know something?” she asked.

“Do tell me, Aphrodite,” he said.

“I know how you see horsetail plants and cattail plants as the very symbols of all of your short stories,” she said.

“My two favorite plants of God’s creation,” he said.

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“Well, I think that I got some over there,” she said, pointing toward the farthest sand dune from this sand dune of the four sand dunes.

“Why, I see them now!” he sang out in joy.  And he ran up to them and stood before them and gazed upon them.  They were yet very new and very short and very small, but they were there.

“I guess that they are baby horsetails and baby cattails yet,” she said.  “But they will grow up to be adult horsetails and adult cattails before too long, I’d bet.”

“They’re beautiful, like you, Aphrodite,” he said.

His confidante and doting girlfriend said, “You told me that the Maker had made this world’s first horsetail and first cattail on the third day, boyfriend.”

“Yes, O Aphrodite.  I did.  He did.  On the third day of creation, God created horsetails and cattails upon this Earth.”  Then he said, “It is written, Aphrodite, in Genesis 1:11.  And it is written again, Aphrodite, in Genesis 1:12.”

“Oo!  Read them both to me, Flanders,” said Aphrodite Dea Tea.

And he read them to her from page one of his King James Bible:  “It is written, ‘And God said, Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in itself, upon the earth: and it was so.’  Again is it written, ‘And the earth brought forth grass, and herb yielding seed after his kind, and the tree yielding fruit, whose seed was in itself, after his kind:  and God saw that it was good.’”

Daring to look into her Christian boyfriend’s Holy Bible, Aphrodite went on to read the next verse on that open page, “And the evening and the morning were the third day.”

“Aphrodite!  That was the first time that I ever saw you reading from the Bible!” exclaimed

Flanders Nickels.

“Yeah!” she said, surprised at herself.  “Yeah.  It is.”

“’The herb yielding seed,’ and ‘herb yielding seed after his kind,’ he reiterated.

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“That means all plants,” she said.  “And horsetails and cattails are plants.”

“I wonder if those first such horsetails and cattails on that third day looked like yours here—just  coming up—or if they look like mine at home—all grown up,” he said.

“God only knows,” said Aphrodite Dea Tea.

“What a beautiful thing to say, Aphrodite,” he said to her.

“I think that I am beginning to like these little things growing up along the edges of my little sand dunes, Flanders,” she said.

“Don’t ever go and cut them down,” he said.

“I’ll take good care of them,” she promised in truth.

Suddenly a wind came up, and it blew off her black hat from her head.  She grabbed for it above her head, but missed it.  The Debbie Gibson hat was in the middle of the nearest sand dune to the one they were standing before right now.  Flanders ran, leaped, and landed on his feet before it, and he grabbed it carefully in both of his hands.  And he held it up and said, “Got it!”

“I love you for that, Flanders,” said Aphrodite.

He paused to admire it in his hands.  And he said, “What does it feel like to have this on your head, Aphrodite?”

“It makes me feel like Debbie Gibson,” she said.

“Could I try it on, Aphrodite?” he asked.

“Why, yes, Flanders.  You flatter her so!” said Aphrodite in glee.

“It is a man’s hat, even though it makes a girl look irresistible,” said Flanders.

“Go ahead.  Put on my hat, Flanders,” said the most honored girlfriend.

And Flanders Nickels put on the sexy black hat.  He set about to gently pull it down along its brim all around his head so that it would not blow off of his head.  “I like it!” he said.

“How does it feel?” asked Aphrodite.

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And Flanders Nickels said, “It makes me feel like you, Aphrodite.”

“Boyfriend, you make your woman feel good about herself,” said Aphrodite Tea.

“I dare ask, Aphrodite, ‘How do I look now?’” he asked.

“You look all brand new to me,” she said.

“Is that good?” he asked.

“Yeah!  I think so,” she said.

“Do I still look masculine?” he asked.

“My boyfriend, you look absolutely virile,” she said.

“Maybe I’ll keep this on for a while,” he said.

“You make your girlfriend want to reach out for your hair with that hat on, Flanders,” she said.

Boyfriend and girlfriend laughed together.  In good and happy fun, he took off her hat and put her hat back down upon her head.

And he said, “There.  Now you make your boyfriend want to reach out for your hair with that hat on your head now, Miss Tea.”

“Touch my hair,” she said.

“I cannot.  There is a hat sitting down upon it, girl,” he said.

And young man and young woman laughed together again in flirts.

Then Flanders Nickels said, “I am so glad that you don’t cut your hair short, Aphrodite.”

“I would just as soon give away this hat than to go get my hair cut, Flanders,” she said.

“Your hat is your most important part of your Debbie Gibson outfit for you,” he said in truth.

“Yes.  And that means that your girlfriend promises you that she will never have short hair in her life,” said Aphrodite.

“Long hair is good on a woman,” he did say.

“I want to keep looking beautiful for my man friend and for myself,” said Aphrodite.

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“The Bible has something good to say about that,” said Flanders.

“The Good Book likes me to have my hair long, also, Flanders?” she asked.

“That it does,” he said.  And he searched the scriptures for the verse he knew very well.  And he read out loud to her, “’But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her:  for her hair is given her for a covering.’  I Corinthians 11:15.”

“That is my favorite Bible verse for now on, Flanders,” she declared.

“Your long hair glorifies our Creator, O Aphrodite,” he told her.

“That’s a good thing,” she said.  “Isn’t it?”

He nodded his head and said, “Ahhhhhh.  Yes!”

“Beautiful and brown and straight and with bangs and, of course, long,” she said.

“I think that I feel a wind coming up again,” he said.

On impulse, the woman put her hands to the sides of her dress hat to hold it down.  But no wind came.  “Boyfriend, I ought to hit you with this,” she said.

“I just wanted to see you touch your hat,” he said.

“It is not nice to fool Mother Nature,” she said in mirth.

“You are not Mother Nature, Aphrodite,” he said.  “You are the Greek goddess of love and beauty.”

“I bet that even Bitsy and Redde never got a compliment like that from their boyfriends, Flanders,” said Aphrodite Dea Tea.

“As is my girlfriend’s name, so is my girlfriend,” he said to her in ardor.

“As is my boyfriend’s words, so is his heart,” said Aphrodite.

“Would you sing a song for me?” he asked.

“Should I sing a Debbie Gibson song for you again?” asked the woman.

“Sing a song that you feel like singing right now,” he said.

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“Well, right now I feel thankful that I live in a country where I have the freedom to go on a date with my boyfriend at my sand dunes here every time we want to,” she said.

“It is good to be a citizen of the United States, Aphrodite,” he said.

“Our own America, Flanders.  The greatest nation in the world,” she said.

“It sounds like you feel patriotic right now,” he said.

“I do indeed,” she said.

“Sing a patriotic song for your boyfriend, if you would,” he said.

“Do you know any good ones that you want me to sing?” she asked.

“I know four that are in my church’s hymnbook,” he said.  “’My Country, ‘Tis of Thee,’ and ‘America the Beautiful.’ and ‘Battle Hymn of the Republic,’ and ‘The Star-Spangled Banner.’”

“Oo!  I want to go right now and sing our national anthem, Flanders,” said Aphrodite.

“Oh.  I did not bring the hymnbook today,” he said.

“That’s all right, Flanders,” said Aphrodite Dea Tea.  “I have already memorized it.”

“That’s right.  You sing for a living.  You know all about how lots of songs go,” he said.

“I know all four stanzas of ‘The Star-Spangled Banner,’ just exactly as Francis Scott Key first wrote it,” she said.

“I can’t wait for you to start,” he said.

“I do not sing as well as Debbie Gibson, Flanders,” said Aphrodite.

“Au contraire, Aphrodite,” said Flanders.  “Debbie Gibson is not my girlfriend.”

“You’re saying that I have a more beautiful voice?” asked Aphrodite Tea.

“Your voice is almost as pretty as your face,” he said.

“I shall not keep my boyfriend waiting,” said Aphrodite.

And she began to sing for her greatly admiring and doting and kind Christian boyfriend:

“1.  O say can you see, by the dawn’s early light,

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What so proudly we hail’d at the twilight’s last gleaming,

Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight

O’er the ramparts we watch’d were so gallantly streaming?

And the rocket’s red glare, the bomb bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there,

O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

2.  On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep

Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,

What is that which the breeze, o’er the towering steep,

As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?

Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,

In full glory reflected now shines in the stream,

‘Tis the star-spangled banner—O long may it wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

3.  And where is that band who so vauntingly swore,

That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion

A home and a Country should leave us no more?

Their blood has wash’d out their foul footstep’s pollution.

No refuge could save the hireling and slave

From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave,

And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

4.  O thus be it ever when freemen shall stand

Between their lov’d home and the war’s desolation!

Blest with vict’ry and peace may the heav’n rescued land

Praise the power that hath made and preserv’d us a nation!

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,

And this be our motto–’In God is our trust,’

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.”

A silent moment passed after Aphrodite finished singing this song for Flanders.  And he said, “Thank you for singing another song to me, Aphrodite.  What would I do were I not blessed with a girlfriend who sings like the angels?”

In the ardor of the moment, she said, “You once told me that I even sing like the stars in the sky of night, Flanders,”

“I did, Aphrodite,” he said.

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“What does that mean?” she asked.

And he said, “It is written in Job 38:7,” he answered:  “’When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.’”

“It sounds like a real good thing,” she said.

“Your singing can make a bad day for me a good day,” he said.

“Shall I sing for you for the rest of our lives together?” she asked.

“You can, girl,” he said.  “You can.”

“Shall I sing again right now?” she asked.

“Encore!  Encore!” he cheered her.

And Aphrodite went on to sing for him for the rest of their date together this afternoon here at her four little sand dunes.

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CHAPTER IX

Proffery Coins and Bitsy Windemereshire were at her place on a date today.  They were in her room, looking through her disorganized cardboard box of International Gymnast magazines and admiring the pictures, she as a lady fan, he as a guy fan.

“This girl is pretty,” he said.

“She’s Tracee Talavera,” said Bitsy.

“She is a brunette like you are, Bitsy,” said Proffery.

“Except she is a brunette with brown hair; I am a brunette with black hair,” said Miss Windemereshire.

“She hardly looks thirteen,” said Proffery.  “And she is pretty to me at twenty-five,”

“Do you like them younger?” asked Bitsy.

“I like Victoria Principal, the actress, too, and she is fifty-something,” said Proffery.

“So you like them older, too, Proffery,” said Bitsy.

“And I like you the most,” he said.

“And you like them your own age, too,” said Bitsy.

“Tracee Talavera was from long ago,” he said.  “Some of these magazines go way back, Bitsy.”

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“My big cardboard box can’t hold them all anymore,” she said.

“It is one of those big paper cup boxes for grocery stores on their stock days for on the shelf,” said Proffery.

“Truly the wrong kind of box for a few hundred magazines, Proffery,” she said.

“Look how thin this cardboard is,” he said.  “I see it tearing along all the corners, Bitsy.”

“I think that I have to go to the grocery store and ask for another big box,” said Bitsy Windemereshire. “No, make that two new boxes.”

“Or maybe a surprise present from an admiring boyfriend,” he said from out of the blue.

“A surprise present, Proffery?” she asked, getting wild hopes up as what that could mean.

“I sneaked it over here without you seeing me, Bitsy, and I have them hiding underneath your front wooden steps outside,” he said.

“A present for me?” she asked.  He nodded.  “It is not my birthday,” He shook his head.  “It is not Christmas,”  He shook his head.  “It is not the anniversary of the day we became girlfriend and boyfriend,” He shook his head.  “It is just a surprise present,”  He nodded his head.

And Proffery Coins said, “Having you for my girlfriend, Bitsy, every day you should get a present.”

“Can I go see and take a look?” she asked.

“I bought them at the flea market,” he said.  “And when I first saw them, I thought that they would be just perfect for you.”

“Oh Proffery.  Thank you.  What are they?” she asked in fervor.

“Go and see and take a look and tell me if you do not love them,” he said.

And young woman and young man ran out of the house and looked underneath her front stoop.

Behold, two wooden filing cabinet drawers without the filing cabinet!

“These will be absolutely the best thing to store all of my International Gymnast magazines!”

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sang out Bitsy the gymnast.  “Do let me get a better look at them.”

He reached in underneath the wooden porch steps a couple of times and did bring out the most official repositories and did set them upon the grass next to her house.  “Why, Proffery, these drawers are as good as the magazines themselves!

“They are solid and sturdy and all wood,” he told her.

“They even have brass handles on their fronts!” she said.  “And they are nice and heavy even empty yet now!  I like them!  I really like them a lot!”

“Do you love them, Bitsy?” he asked.

“I do!  I do!” she said.  “Then she said, “How I wish that I could fill these up right now with all of them.”

“We can right now, Bitsy,” said Proffery, himself also excited along with her.

“You would help your girlfriend to do that?” she asked.

“Everything we do together is fun for me,” he said.

“But this could take a few hours,” she said.  “Could you?”

“I’d like that very much, Bitsy,” said Proffery Coins in sincerity.

“Let’s have at it then, boyfriend,” she said.  He, being the man, carried both filing cabinet drawers into the house and up to her room.  And they spent the next part of this day organizing her International Gymnast magazines in all due chronological order into her most beautiful new storage bins.  Boyfriend and girlfriend both greatly followed women’s gymnastics as their favorite sport—the woman, as a competitor as well; and the man, as an admirer of the gymnastics leotard and with a major crush on such a woman gymnast.

“But I am sorry that I don’t have anything to give back to you today, Proffery,” said Bitsy.

“Just seeing you in your Lilia Podkopayeva gymnastics leotard is a present enough for me,” he told her.

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“I do believe that you like it more than I like it,” she said in flirt.

“You look better in it even than did Lilia,” he told her.

“Then my wearing this will be my present for you today, Proffery,” said Miss Windemereshire.

“Yes, woman!” he said sultrily.

“Kiss me!” she said in her old coquetry and desires.

“Not yet,” he said in returning flirt for flirt.

“You know how to keep a girl waiting,” said Bitsy.

“Something like that is worth waiting for,” he said in fun and games.  And both laughed out loud together in merriment.

And happy together, both resumed their filing of the gymnastics magazines.  “Look at this, Bitsy,” said Proffery.  “What a wild and provocative ad in a magazine like this!”  And he showed her what he saw.

It was in an old issue, back when all the pictures were still black and white.  And on this page was a gorgeous young woman with much pretty hair, long and wavy, with a fetching smile.  And along the side of this attractive young lady were the words, “Taffy’s wants gymnasts to feel good.”  Proffery was tempted by those words.  Bitsy read those words, and she understood them.

Proffery went on to say, “It sounds like this ‘Taffy’s’ must make women’s gymnastic leotards.

Do you think the same thing, Bitsy?”

“Uh huh.  I think it does,” she said.

“Do you feel good right now?” he asked.

“Uh huh.  I do,” she said.

“Is your leotard made by this Taffy’s, Bitsy?” he asked.

“Uh uh,” said Bitsy.  “But I still feel good in this one,”

“This woman and those words are putting thoughts inside my man’s head,” said Proffery.

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“Something like this would not look good on you as it does on me, Proffery,” said Bitsy.  “Too bad for you.  Very good for me.”

“You lucky young woman,” he said with a brand new type of romance talk with his Bitsy Windemereshire.

“Leave the women’s gymnastics leotards to your woman, Proffery,” she said.

“Okay, woman,” said Proffery.  And they continued sorting her magazines from throughout the years.  Indeed, even though International Gymnast came out only about eleven times a year, Bitsy had the whole gamut of many years of issues.  Surely they were to fill up two filing cabinet drawers completely front to back.

As gymnast and boyfriend continued this good fun work together, Bitsy Shea Windemereshire went on to tell him.  “You should have seen the day I first put on a girl’s gymnastics leotard and showed all of my family myself in it, Proffery.”

“They approved.  Didn’t they?  All of them,” he said.

“Yes!” she said.  “And everything all of them said when they saw the new me I do remember yet word for word even now, years after,”  And Bitsy Windemereshire went on to tell:  “Dad said to me,

‘Ah, my beautiful daughter has become a gymnast now.’  Mom said to me, ‘I’m so proud of you, Bitsy!’  Grandpa said, ‘Girls your age didn’t dress so beguilingly back in my day.’  Grandma said to me, ‘Now all the boys in school will want to go out with you.’  Big Brother said, ‘Bitsy, even the upperclassmen in my high school will be turning their heads when you walk by.’  Big Sister said,’I’m jealous over you now.’  Little Brother said, ‘You look different now, but I like it.’  Little Sister said, ‘When I get bigger, I want to look like you.’  Even our family German Shepherd took one look at the new me and cocked his head to the side in trying to figure me out and gave me his brown-eyed look of approval.”

In tease and great admiration, Proffery Rule Coins said, “And you never took it off since.”

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“Only to go and put this one on,” she said in gaiety, putting her hands to the chevron stripes running down her belly.

“So, girlfriend, care to teach your captive audience all about women’s artistic gymnastics once again?” he asked.

“You’ve heard me go on and on about that—even when you don’t ask for it—that you could tell me things about my sport, Proffery,” she said.

“Yes!  The vault.  The bars.  The beam.  The floor,  Yes!” he said.

“I know you, Proffery,” said Bitsy Windemereshire.  “You said the four routines in increasing order of how much you like them.”

“The vault—the leap off of the horse.  The bars—two of them.  The beam—the hardest of them.

The floor—a sexy dance indeed,” he did say.

“Well, now I know all the better how men sees us women gymnasts doing our tricks,” she said.

“Well, at least how your man sees you gals,” said Proffery.

“Do you still want to see it all as us gals do, Proffery?” asked Bitsy.

“At least how you do, my beguiler,” he said.  “Teach me and edify me and pique my curiosity

with some new thing you never told me before about gymnastics.”

And Bitsy Shea Windemereshire taught women’s gymnastics to her best student:  “The vault, Proffery.  In the vault a girl sprints down the runway, which is carpeted or padded.  Then she leaps onto the springboard in the pre-flight.  With the energy of the spring, the girl directs her hands toward the horse.  The girl then, as you said it, leaps off of the horse, with her hands.  The girl rotates herself to land in a standing position on the opposite side of the vault.  This trick called the ‘vault’ is affected by the speed of the girl’s run, by the length of the girl’s hurdle, and by the power from the girl’s legs and shoulders, and by the speed of the girl’s rotation.

“How long is the runway, Bitsy?” asked Proffery.

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“The runway is about 115 feet long, Proffery,” said Bitsy.  “And it is three feet wide.”

“And how long is the horse?” he asked.  “And how wide is it?  And how high is it?”

“The vaulting horse is at least four feet long and almost three feet wide and about four feet high,” said the gymnast.

“Tsukahara off the horse!  Tsukahara off the horse!” he said to her in flirt.

“You like that,” she said.

“Tell me again,” he said to her.

And she said, “That is when a girl in her pre-flight does a front handstand off of the springboard with a half-twist in the air.”  She then also said, “Another way for me to put it is when a girl does a half-turn off of the springboard onto the vault table, then pushes backwards with her arms into a backwards salto.”

“Who was this Miss Tsukahara?” he asked.

“Her name was Mitsuo Tsukahara,” said the women’s gymnastics instructor for the day.

“Windemereshire off the horse,” he said in accolade.

“I never did invent any new trick of my own,” said Miss Windemereshire.  “There can be no tricks named after your girlfriend, Proffery.”

“I like you just as you are,” he said, “with or without a gymnastics move named after you.”

“Are you ready to hear about the bars, Proffery?” asked the gymnast teacher.

“The uneven parallel bars,”  said Proffery.  “Tell me all about that trick.”

“In the bar routine, a girl makes use of two bars, one higher; and the other lower.  As the name goes, Proffery, these two bars are uneven, and they are parallel.  Here a girl performs swings and handstands and transitional moves and release moves and more.  The most common way for a girl to begin a bars routine is to start with the low bar, grabbing onto it with both hands.  Then the girl goes on to the high gar, doing most of the rest of her routine on this one.  The rule for this routine is that a girl

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perform a flight element from the low bar to the high bar and perform a flight element from the high bar to the low bar some time during the performance.  Also a girl gymnast is required by the rules of bars that she also perform a flight element on the same bar.  The girl must also use two different grips in her routine.  And also must the girl do a nonflight with a turn on the bar, for example, when a girl turns her hands on a handstand.  And then comes the dismount,” taught Bitsy Windemereshire.

“I see girls put chalk on their hands lots of times in the bars routine,” said Proffery.  “You do that, also, sometimes, Bitsy,”

“It helps with the grip,” said Miss Windemereshire.

“What are the uneven parallel bars made of?” he asked.

“The frames are made of steel.  And the bars themselves are made of fiberglass with wood coating,” taught Bitsy her admirer.

“How high are the high bars?” he asked.

“Those are almost eight feet high,” she said.

“How high are the low bars?” he asked.

“Those are a little more than five-and-one-half-feet high,” she said.

“How long are the bars?” he asked.

“Both are nearly eight feet long, Proffery,” she said.

“And they are thick, too,” he said.  “How wide are they in diameter, Bitsy?”

“The uneven parallel bars are just barely over one-and-one-half inches in diameter,” said the woman gymnast.

“You know what turns me on the most when you do your uneven parallel bars tricks, O Bitsy,” he said somewhat licentiously.

“Oh, that I know,” she said.  “You make a girl gymnast blush.”

“You told me that it is called ‘the Stalder swing.’” said Proffery Coins.

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“Every girl does it on her bars routine,” said Bitsy Windemereshire.

“You do it the best,” he said.

“The Stalder swing shows off a girl’s flexibility and suppleness and litheness,” said the woman gymnast.

“What the Stalder swing shows me is something very much different from what you say now, Bitsy,” said Proffery Coins.

“All men are alike,” she said.

“Tell me what you see when a woman gymnast does that trick, and then I will tell you what I see when a woman gymnast does that trick,” said her boyfriend.

“The Stalder swing on the bars for us gymnasts who do it is when a girl performs a deeply compressed straddle circle from handstand to handstand,” defined the gymnastics teacher of this date.

“Now go ahead and tell me what you see in this Stalder swing, Proffery.”  And she said, “Your girlfriend knows all about what you are going to say.”

“A secret covered up with gymnastics leotard fabric,” he said somewhat lasciviously.  In such a trick as this Stalder swing, a girl swung around the high bar on her hands; then the girl swinging underneath this high bar went ahead to bend both of her legs forward and back behind herself in the middle of this swing; and the girl quite showed off her leotard-covered nether regions wide and provocative and seductive.  Then it was done.

“You make a gymnast feel desirable,” said the woman gymnast.

“And your face which I do know is even prettier than your part down there which I do not know,” said her boyfriend.

“You make a gymnast feel like a girlfriend,” she said.

“Do tell me now all about the balance beam, if you would, O Bitsy,” he said.

“The beam, which scares us women gymnasts,” said Miss Windemereshire.

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“Because it is the hard routine of the four,” he said.

“It is only four inches wide, Proffery,” she said.  “That means that it is only one-third of a foot

across.

“And that is all you have to stand on when you do your tricks on the balance beam, Bitsy,” said Proffery.

“What is the balance beam all about?  A girl like me performs tricks here such as leaps and handstands and dance poses and flips and walkovers, and all sorts of acrobatic moves.  And we girls also do tricks such as flight circles and multiple aerial elements on the beam.  And there are those times when we girls fall off of the balance beam.  That brings about a major deduction on our score.  And then we girls end our balance beam routine with the dismount.  If the dismount is perfect and we land perfectly upon our two feet and we take not even one step after having landed, it is said that we ‘stuck the landing.’  And sticking the landing is often the most important thing to do in the balance beam routine.  The same is true also for the vault and for the bars, Proffery,” she told her boyfriend.

“Do you know what the balance beam is made of, Bitsy?” asked Proffery.  “It looks like a big hunk of wood to me.”

“That is is, Proffery—wood.  It is a wooden beam covered with suede or leather,” said the gymnastics scholar.

“And how high up is the women’s balance beam, Bitsy?” asked Proffery Coins.

“It is four feet high,” she said.

“And how long is it?” he asked.

“The women’s balance beam is sixteen feet long, Proffery,” she did tell him.

“How long does the routine take, start to finish, Bitsy?” asked her eager student.

“The balance beam routine takes from seventy to ninety seconds,” said the professional woman gymnast.

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“You know my favorite trick of yours on the balance beam, Bitsy,” he said.

“Yeah, Proffery.  Yeah,” she said.

“What did you say that the name of it was?” he asked.

“A backwards salto into a straddle,” she said.

“The things that women can do that men cannot,” he said.

“Unless he wants to get hurt where a woman cannot get hurt,” she said.

“Naughty, Aphrodite,” he said.

“Naughty, Proffery,” she said.

“Now tell me all that you know about the floor routine,” he said.  “That is my favorite of the four routines, you know.”

“It is also the favorite for us women gymnasts doing it,” said Miss Windemereshire.

“The floor routine is better even than a harem dance,” said Proffery Coins the man.

And his girlfriend taught him some of what she knew about the tricks of the floor routine that she had performed and learned about over the years:  “The floor for the floor routine is one big spring floor, Proffery.  The out-of-bounds is delineated by white tape.  In this performance on the floor, a girl dances to music that has no words of lyrics.  It is to last for ninety seconds.  And the girl has to use the entire floor without stepping out of bounds.  And the girl has to also do a tumbling pass from one corner of the mat all the way to the opposite corner of the mat.  A girl does tricks such as series of jumps and lots of dance elements and much acrobatic elements and turns.”

“How big is the floor of the floor routine, Bitsy?” he asked.

“Oh, it is a big square thirty-nine feet on a side,” she said.

“Thirty-nine feet by thirty-nine feet,” he said.  “That takes up the biggest area for the four areas of a gymnastics meet going on in that gymnasium or arena, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does,” she said.

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“Then how long does that make it from one corner to the opposite corner?” he asked.

“Fifty-five and one-half feet plus,” she said.

“I especially love it when you finish your floor routine with a double salto tuck and stick your landing, Bitsy,” he said.

“Why, Proffery.  You are beginning to talk like a real gymnast now,” praised his girlfriend.

“Where did you learn such technical terms like that?”

“Your favorite guy is not only your favorite fan, but also your favorite pupil, Bitsy Shea Windemereshire,” said Proffery.

“Look, Proffery,” said Bitsy here in her room with him.  She pointed to the wooden floor in front of where they were sitting on her floor.

He looked.  Lo, only one last magazine remained not put away in the two bins.  He picked it up and looked at the cover.  And he saw his very Bitsy herself on the cover.  She was in the midst of a single salto tuck on the floor routine in this picture. She was up in the air, upside-down.  Her long black hair, loose as she preferred it, was hanging down from her head.  Her knees were tucked in toward her chest.  Her arms were wrapped around her lower legs.  Her back was facing the camera.  And the number on her back was the sign reading, “25,”  And the words on the cover underneath “International Gymnast” were:  “The Next America’s Cup Champion?”

“I still like this International Gymnast magazine the best of all of your International Gymnast magazines, dear Bitsy,” said Proffery Coins. “You won!”

“I did.  Didn’t I, Proffery?” said Bitsy, her face beaming in great gladness.  She then put that last remaining such magazine that had been in the torn-up cardboard box now most appropriately in Proffery’s filing cabinet bins that he had given her today for a surprise present.  “Thank you, Proffery,”

she said.

“You’re very welcome, dear Bitsy,” he told her.

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CHAPTER X

“So this is what you have on over your fists when you get into the ring against a woman, Redde,” said Regal Sixpence.

“Everlast boxing gloves,” said Redde Westminster.  “Yes, these are what they are.”

“They look so black,” he said.  “These must be the ones that you donned in your last prize fight, Redde.”

  “That they are,” she said.  “I hit her hard everywhere with these on in that fight, Regal.”

“I was there to see that and enjoy that.  You won that fight by a T.K.O.,” said Regal Sixpence.

“Pow Pow Robinson,” said Redde her name.  Redde and Regal were on a date together in her boxing ring in her basement.  They were both sitting down on the canvas right in the middle of the ring and chatting about her most unusual career for a girl, man and woman sharing their fascination for women’s professional boxing.  They were sitting there face to face, and to her right next to her were those black boxing gloves of hers upon the canvas, and to his right next to him were red boxing gloves of hers also upon the canvas.

He picked up a right red glove from his side and said, “To think that a woman could actually get

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knocked unconscious messing around with these in the ring for a living,” he said.

“Or that a woman could go and knock unconscious another woman with one of these, Regal,” said Miss Westminster.  And she picked up a right black glove from her side and held it in her hands.

“No wonder you box for a living,” said the man.  “It sounds like fun!”

“Do you mean it is fun to be KO’ed, or do you mean that is it fun to KO, Regal?” she asked,

pleased with her delighted boyfriend.

“I mean both,” he said.

“Did you ever punch with one of these on, Regal?” she asked.

“No, Redde,” he said.  “But if I were a woman, I would like to slug another woman with something nice and red like this, I tell you.”

“I can see that you are not a woman who ever got punched with one of these black gloves of mine, boyfriend,” said Redde Westminster.

“I think that that would arouse me in a most worldly way, Redde,” he said.

“Did you ever get punched by a woman wearing one of these on her hand?” she said.

“Would it hurt?” he asked.

“Would it hurt?” she repeated his words.  “Women’s boxing is just as much a full-contact sport as men’s boxing.”

“But not as hard, I am sure,” he said.

“Yes.  Not as hard,” she assented.  “But then again, we are littler, we women prize fighters,

than you men.”

He then picked up the left red boxing glove from the canvas to his side. In like Miss Westminster picked up her left black boxing glove from the canvas to her side.  “Neat, Redde!  Real neat!” he said, feeling these red padded gloves in his open palms.

“Go ahead and put them on, Regal,” she said.

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“I only did something like that in my life one time, and that only happened in a dream,” he did say.

“Oh, don’t worry.  I’m not asking you to actually box with me here in my ring, Regal,” said Redde.  “Just put on my boxing gloves and see what it is like for me when I go and do my thing against other girls my size in the ring as I do.”

And her boyfriend went ahead and donned her boxing gloves upon his hands.  “Neat.  Really neat, Redde!” he said.

“Well, cute boyfriend.  What do you think?” asked Redde Steady Westminster.

“I like it,” he said.  “I like them.”  Then he said, “What should I do?”  And he answered his own question by knocking the red gloves together against each other in front of himself as prize fighters do.

“I like these.  I like this,” he said.

“Are my gloves comfortable?” she asked.

“They do seem a little bit too small for me,” he said.  “But they feel good on.”

“That’s because men’s hands are bigger than women’s hands,” she said.

“These things on my hand don’t seem heavy enough to hurt a woman with a punch, Redde,” he said, holding them up before his eyes as he sat there.

“Oh, but Regal, the heavier the glove, the less forceful the punch,” taught Redde her boyfriend.

“Yeah.  You’re right.  That makes sense,” he said.  “How much do these red gloves weigh, if you know?”

“Those ones weigh twelve ounces each, O Regal,” she said.

“Not even one pound!” he said.  “And they can knock a woman right down to the canvas!”

“I know!  I know!” said the woman boxer with much experience.

“How long do you think these red ones would last for you in your career if you use them lots?” he asked.  “Do things like these ever wear out?  What if you had to replace them some day?”

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And she said, “Gloves like these two pair should last me about from one to three years.”

“And I’d bet that these that are made for women are smaller than these were they made for a man,” he said.

“Yes.  You’re right.  Women’s palms are narrower than men’s palms,” said Redde.  “But not only that, Regal, but also we girls’ thumbs are a little bit longer than you guys’ thumbs.”

“So, of course, the boxing gloves manufacturers took that in mind when they made these here that we have on right now, Redde,” said Regal Sixpence.

“You’re right,” she said.

“But then again, Redde, all women boxers do not have the same size hands, either,” he said.

“Do the manufacturers take that in mind when they make the gloves?”

“Yes, indeed, Regal,” said Miss Westminster.  “To get the right boxing gloves for our fists, we go and measure our hands, Regal.  In fact we take three measurements to get the best boxing gloves for our needs:  one is our weight, and one is our height, and one is the circumference of our dominant hand.  And to measure the circumference of our dominant hand, we roll a fabric tape around our hand just below our knuckles.”

He looked at the part of the red boxing glove around his wrist, and he read out loud, “Everlast.”  He then asked her, “Are there other boxing glove manufacturers?”

“Yes, there are,” she said.  “And I’ve got them.”  And she said, “There are also Cleto-Reyes boxing gloves and Society Nine boxing gloves and Hayabusa boxing gloves and Adidas boxing gloves, Regal,”

“Hayabusa sounds like it can pack quite a punch,” he said.

“They all pack quite a punch if they are worn by the right woman,” she said.

“You have never been knocked out in your career, Redde,” he said.

“But I have knocked out a woman once in the ring in my career,” she said.  She then knocked

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her black boxing gloves together from where she sat, and he heard the sound of padded leather against padded leather. “Poor fragile Candy Cane.”

“Sexy!  O bantamweight girlfriend,” he said to her.

“You know it,” she said.  “I am a bantamweight in women’s prize fighting.”

“What is the range of bantamweights?” he asked.

“Oh, between 115.1 pounds and 118 pounds,” said Redde Steady Westminster.

“What are the other weight classes in women’s boxing, Redde?” he asked.

And she replied in order from smallest to biggest:  “There are strawweights and flyweights and bantamweights and featherweights and lightweights and welterweights and middleweights and light

heavyweights and cruiserweights and heavyweights.”

“Which one would I fit in to,” he asked, “were I a woman boxer, Redde?’

“How much do you weigh?” she asked.

“I weigh 145 pounds,” Regal Sixpence said.

“That would make you a good welterweight of a girl,” said Miss Westminster.

“Do they let welterweight women fight bantamweight women in the ring?” he asked.

“That would be against the rules,” she said.

“Should we let a welterweight of a boyfriend fight a bantamweight of a girlfriend, Redde Westminster?” he said.

“Do you feel like slugging your woman?” asked Redde, getting caught up in his fervor.

“Well, actually what I was thinking was more like getting slugged by my woman,” he told her.

“Remember what I said, Regal,” she said.  “These things hurt.”  And she held up her right glove.

“I think that I am coming upon a brand new saying that tells everything we both need to know about men and women,” he teased her.

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“What is your brand new saying?” she asked.  “Do tell me, Regal Sixpence,”

And he told her:  “When a woman hits a man, the man says, ‘Did a fly land on my arm?’  And when a man hits a woman, the woman goes down and does not get up again.”  And he said, “Ha ha ha!”

“Ho ho ho, Regal,” said Redde.

“He he he,” he laughed again.

Then she said, “I’ve got a saying, too.  But it is not all my own.”

“What is it?” he asked.

And she told him, “All’s fair in love and war.”

“You’re right.  It’s not all your own.  I heard it before,” he did say to her.

“You want to box with a pretty girl and get your bell rung,” she said.

“Yes.  It’s a guy thing,” he said.  “I want you to strike my clock good.”

“Do you know what I want right now?” she asked.

“I think I know,” he said.

“Tell your girlfriend what she wants from her boyfriend,” said Redde.

“A good long hug,” he said.

“Or maybe even just a quick little hug,” she said.

“Only if you first KO me in the ring,” he said.  “Then you can hug me, Redde.”

“I never punched a cute guy before,” she said.

“Chicken!” he said.

“But then again I never embraced a cute guy before,” she said.

“Scaredy cat!” he said.

Thinking upon putting her arms around an unconscious boyfriend were she to give in to him to get what she had always wanted from him, she said, “Ouch.  Ow.  Regal.  I think that I will pass on that

for the day.”

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He thought for a short moment, gazing upon her black boxing gloves on her hands.  And he said, “You say that they hurt.  Maybe I am not ready for myself to find that out for myself yet.  Not any boyfriend goes around and says, ‘I got beat up by my girlfriend on purpose,’”

“About the embrace, Regal?” she asked.

“That might hurt my God for me to do that,” he said.  “I do not want to disappoint the Lord.”

“That’s all right,” she said.  “I am having a lot of fun talking about women’s boxing with you down here even without a good hug.”

“I had a dream the other morning,” said Regal.  “It was about my breezeway.”

“Do you lead souls to God in your dreams as you do your waking life?” she asked.

“This was a dream about these,” he said, raising his right glove, “and those,” he said, touching her glove with his.

“You dreamed that you saw my boxing gloves in your soul-winning room?” she asked.

“Your gloves were there, but you were not,” he said.

“How did they get there?” she asked, wanting to hear more about this dream.

“I don’t know.  Dreams are funny,” he said.

“I think that I know what came next in your dream,” she said.

“I bet that you don’t, Redde,” he said.

“I would think that you put on my gloves and pretended to box like your girlfriend in that dream,” guessed Miss Westminster, knowing her boyfriend as a confidant.

“Yep.  You’re right girl,” he said.  “I pretended that I was you.”

“Did you as me knock the girl out, Regal?” she asked, confident.

“Nope.  This time you are wrong about my dream,” he said.

She thought for a moment, then asked, “Did you as me get knocked out by the girl?”             “Yeah.  Yeah, Redde,” he confessed.  “After that last punch, I lay there on the floor and did not     

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move for the longest time.  Then I ‘finally came to,’  And I got up.  Then I was awake again, and I found myself in bed in my room.  It was all just a dream.”

“What I live in my real life you live in your dream life,” she said.  “Except for that knockout punch that ‘I’ got in your breezeway.

“Except your punches really do connect, and your opponent’s punches really do connect,” he did say.  “Even in my dream my gloves were only hitting air.”

“We can do that—you and I, Regal,” she said.

“Have a pretend bout?” he asked.

“These boxing gloves are an icon for me and a fetish for you, Regal,” said Redde Westminster.

“Aye.  That they are,” he said.

“We can pretend to box in a pretend bout with real people and a real ring and real gloves, Regal!”

“It would be even better than the dream,” he did concur.

“We can have fun together in a new way between us,” she said.

“We both will be hitting air—and not each other?” he asked for verification.

“Yes.  Everything will be real except for the punches,” she said.

“What a wild and crazy idea!” he said in agreement.

“Do you like my wild and crazy idea, Regal?” she asked.

“I like it almost as much as the real thing,” he said.

“That can satisfy the both of us for our urges—myself as a professional; and yourself as an amateur,” said Redde.

“And nobody gets hurt,” he said.

“God wouldn’t mind if we did something like that.  Would he?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t think that God would be disappointed were we to go and have a make-believe prize

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fight together, O Redde—just you and I here in your ring with no one watching,” he did say.

“The thrilla in Manila!” Redde said like unto Muhammad Ali.

“You fight great, but I’m a great fighter,” Regal said like unto Rocky Balboa.

And the two stood up in the ring to contend in mock.  “How should we start?” she asked, never having choreographed a prize fight before.

“I’ll start,” he said.  And he threw a right jab toward her forehead and stopped his glove well short of her head.  Then he said, “Foomp!” in imitation of the sound of the boxing glove hitting her in her forehead.

At once his girlfriend understood.  And in acting, she threw her head back as if his glove had connected hard there above her eyes.  “I’m next,” she said, getting into their fun game today.  And she threw a roundhouse left toward his belly, but stopped her glove an inch short of his belly.  And she said,

“Whoomph!” in imitation of the sound of her glove hitting him in his stomach.  In make-believe he bent over in pain from the blow and gave away a “gasp” of pretend.

He threw an uppercut toward her chin, purposefully missed it to the side, and said, “Foop!”  She jerked her head upward as if hit, and she rolled her eyes as if stunned by the blow.

She then threw a left and a right toward his two temples in quick succession, making double sure that she missed both times, and she said,  “Boom!  Boom!”  In pretend, Regal threw his head first to his left, then to his right.  And he fell against the ropes in a daze in acting.

He then said, “Pow!” hitting her hard, and she reacted in pretend.

Then she said, “Bang!” hitting him back hard, and he went along with it in this fun little game.

He then said, “Pop!  Pop!”

She then said, “Kaboom!”

He then said, “Bop!”

And they continued this innocent and harmless boxing match, a kind of “battle of the sexes,”

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not one glove being laid upon either fighter for the whole prize fight.  This bout had no timed rounds.  It was just one big round.  And it ended when both “fighters” grew weary with swinging their gloves and grew hoarse from making glove sounds with their throats.

And when it was done, Redde Westminster said, “That was the funnest boxing match that I have ever been in, Regal!”

“And that was the funnest thing I ever got to to with you on any of our dates, Redde,” he did say.

“Shall we do it again sometime?” she asked.

“Let’s,” he said.

And now it was time to take off the boxing gloves.  The woman never truly liked to take off her gloves, even after a challenging bout with another woman.  And the man, having such things on his hands now for his first day hated now to have to take them off so soon.  As good as they felt to the professional female boxer, they felt even better to the novice male boxer.

“My hands are sweating in these,” said Regal.

“You should see how much they sweat in a real fight,” she said.

“I guess I have to take these off now,” he said.

“I, too,” she said.

“How does one do that for himself?” he asked.

The real boxer took off her gloves from her hands, and she helped the pretend boxer take off his gloves from his hands.  “There,” she said.

“Thank you, Redde,” he said.

“Well, Regal,” she said.

“Well, Redde” he said.  Then he said, “Shall we do all this again sometime?”

“Let’s,” she did say.

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CHAPTER XI

The three young women and their pets were gathered together, sharing their stories of how they each had first become mistress-and-pet.

Aphrodite Dea Tea and Stables began first to tell their story of their very first day together:  It had happened at a veritable house of icicles.  Ten years old, and told by her mom and dad to not go out into the woods on her own, Aphrodite went out into the woods on her own.  And it was winter in the north country.  She went out to explore the land beyond Mom and Dad’s land.  And she lost track of how far she had walked, but at no time did she forget how to find her way back home.  Aphrodite was a  little girl with a big girl’s savvy.  And she came to a little house with big icicles.  And she marveled at these big icicles.  Why they were taller than she!  They all reached from the roof above the single floor of the house all the way down to the ground!  They were bending down on the eaves troughs.  And they were many a good foot thick.  And no part of the perimeter of this icicle house was not covered by these mammoth icicles.  They even blocked the views of the windows.  They even blocked the way of this little house’s lone door.  The little girl Aphrodite had to see the inside of this house of icicles.  She came up to the door.  She thought about knocking; but thick cold icicles prevented her hand from

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getting to the wooded door.  She looked for a door knocker, and she found it; but it was right behind an icicle, of course.  She could not bring the door knocker back far enough to bring it forward again for it to knock on the door.  She then looked for a doorbell, and did find it along the frame of the door.  And an icicle was just in front of it.  She could not reach her index finger in there to ring the doorbell.  The little girl did not know what to do to come in and visit this person who lived inside.  Then she thought about breaking down the icicles so that she could get to the door.  An older girl might have chosen discretion in this circumstance.  But Aphrodite went ahead to do her deed with the impulse of a younger girl.

Meanwhile, within this house of icicles was a ten-year-old unicorn and a cold master named Drago.  And neither right now knew that they had an impending visitor.  “Unicorn,” said Master Drago,

“fetch me my cocoa.”  And the unicorn went into the kitchen, gingerly picked up the tray with all of the

elements of Drago’s daily cocoa—all of the ingredients and utensils and dishes—in his unicorn teeth, and marched back into the living room with the skill of a waiter.  And Drago said, “That is all, unicorn.”  And the unicorn walked back into the corner of the living room and submissively sat back down upon his rug.  This pet had no name given him by his master.  His master simply called him, “unicorn,” with no capital letter.  Drago was a cold-hearted master as cold as his icicles of his house of icicles.

Just then the sound of much breaking of his icicles outside came in upon their ears here inside.

“Cursed fiends!” cried out Drago in great wrath and vengeance.  Master Drago, though a hermit, still had foes.  Fiends from beyond loved to eat his beloved icicles; they fed on these icicles for sustenance.

And he thought surely that a whole pack of such fiends had come this time to attack his house.  And his

lone self was an equal in force to a pack of fiends from beneath.  “He opened his door, and he cried out,  “Curse you, you fiends!”  And he raised both fists above his head, ready to rumble with imps.

But instead he looked down and saw a little girl with a big tree branch in both hands, naively

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and ignorantly knocking against the icicles that blocked his door.  She was not a fierce fiend; she was an innocent and simple child.  But Drago went on to roar at this little Aphrodite, saying to her, “No one knocks down my icicles!”

And she dropped the big tree branch from her arms and fled away in terror.  The doorway was no longer blocked.  The unicorn was standing there beside his bellicose master in the doorway.  The little girl screamed now in horror.  And the unicorn slipped past the cold master and out into the outdoors and did run to catch up with the little girl.  And suddenly the unicorn found that he was free!

He was free from his master.  He was outside now, finally.  And he would never have to come back.

If the little girl would, he could run away with her to a happy new life.  And he quickly came up to her, passed her up, turned around, faced her, knelt down, and proffered his unicorn horn in deference to her.

At once, when she saw him in submission to her thus, fear left her countenance.  And she ran up to him and put her little arms around his neck and kissed him on his forehead.  Cold Master Drago yelled threats and reprisals now upon his unicorn with the virulence even he had never spoken with before.

But the unicorn was running away now from his evil master.  Everything now hung for the unicorn with the question he had to ask this little girl and with the answer that she would give him from his question.

And the unicorn asked, “May I become your new pet, young girl?”

“If Mom and Dad let that happen, O white unicorn with the wings,” she said.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“My name is ‘Aphrodite,’ O handsome unicorn,” she said.  “What is your name?”

“I don’t have a name,” he said.

“You don’t have a name?” she asked.  He shook his head.  “That’s sad.  Everyone should have a

name.  Would you like one?”

“I would,” he said.  “Do you have a name that would be good for me, O Aphrodite?”

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Behold, cold master Drago picking up the big tree branch in one hand dropped by Aphrodite by two arms.  And the beast of a man too mad to speak now chasing after them with his big stick.  “Let us run now, my new friend,” said the unicorn.  He lowered his back: she got on; he began to run.  And they escaped.

“We are running away together,” said Aphrodite.

“To your place,” he said. “I seek a stable home life.”

“What does it mean to be ‘stable?’” asked the girl, seeking a new word’s definition.

“’Stable’ means ‘safe, secure, steady,’” he defined it for her.

“That could be your name,” she said.  “Would you like to be called ‘Stable?’”

“That is like a dream word for me in my life, Aphrodite,” he did say.  “Life has always been so unstable for me with my master.  I would like to be called ‘Stable.’”

“How about ‘Stables?’” she asked, as he galloped onward.

“I would love to be called ‘Stables,’” said the unicorn in fleet run.

“Then I shall call you that,” said the little girl, riding.  “Turn left when you get to the red barn, and then turn right when you get to the well in the clearing, and then go straight to the footbridge over the creek.  I will lead you to my home the rest of the way if you wish.”

“I would like that, Mistress,” said Stables.

“Mistress?” asked young Aphrodite.

“Do you like that?” asked the unicorn seeking a new owner.

“I like that, Stables.  I love that!” she said.  And she directed her wannabe unicorn pet all the way back home to Mom and Dad’s.  Right away, Mom and Dad fell in love with Stables.  The whole family wanted him to join them.  Aphrodite popped the big question, “Could I have him for my pet, Mom, Dad?”

And Mom and Dad right away said, “Yes!”

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That was how Aphrodite Dea Tea and Stables had first become mistress-and-pet.  But for punishment for disobeying her parents by leaving the yard into the woods in the middle of winter, ten-year-old Aphrodite was grounded for a week, her first week with Stables being separated from him.  She never went off for a crazy walk like that again since.

Next Bitsy Shea Windemereshire and Mane told their story of how they had first discovered each other and became mistress-and-pet:

Bitsy and Proffery went out in search for a pet for her at the animal auction.  Bitsy had told her boyfriend that she wanted a natural animal and not a supernatural animal for a pet.  That meant no unicorns, no griffins, no centaurs, no winged horses, no golden or silver hinds, no basilisks, no chimeras, no harpies, no animals with magic. To go and find such an animal as these, one had to go looking for a den out there somewhere and find the right one in his den, and to ask him to leave his family to go home with him or her.  But to find an animal to adopt that was a natural animal, a prospective mistress or master had to go to an animal auction, bid on the one that he or she most admired, and hope to win the auction and come back home with him.

Proffery asked her, “Are you looking then for a dog, or are you looking for a cat?”

“I am looking for a tiger or a lion,” she did reply.

“You are going to adopt a wild animal?” he asked.

“Hopefully one that can talk,” she said.

“A talking wild animal is always more tame than a non-talking wild animal, Bitsy,” he did say.

“And they are most rare, too, Proffery.  Aren’t they?” she asked.

“I think that you might find one at the auction we are going to,” he said.  “The Iron Mountain Animal Auction does have tigers and lions, and I heard that some of them are talking tigers and talking lions, Bitsy.”

“Oh, I hope so,” she said.  “A girl cannot have a conversation with a tiger or lion who can not

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speak back in human language.”

They came into the tiger barn.  And Bitsy saw Bengal tigers and Siberian Tigers, male tigers and female tigers, and young tigers not grown up and old tigers wise with age.  And she talked with speaking tigers.  But when she was done in this tiger barn, she found that she did not want a tiger for a pet.

Then they came into the lion barn.  And of course here Bitsy saw male lions and female lions,

male cubs and female cubs, and full grown male lions with little manes and medium manes and big manes around their leonine faces.  And she found only one talking lion.  And he looked most handsome to her in his lion’s kingly self.  This lion epitomized to Bitsy Windemereshire “the king of the beasts.”

She began to contemplate whether this sole talking lion of the Iron Mountain Animal Auction were the right one for her.  She whispered in her man’s ear, “Should I go for this one, Proffery?”

And he said to her in great encouragement, “Go for him, girl.  Talk to him.”

And Bitsy Shea Windemereshire asked this majestic lion who talked, “What is your name, O great lion with the great mane?”

And he spoke and said, “My name is waiting to come to me with my first owner, O fine young lady.”

Bitsy asked, “Is it true that at animal auctions an animal that can speak has more final say as to who adopts him than does an animal that cannot speak?”

“It is true, O lady,” said the lion.

“Do you like me, O good and great lion?” asked Bitsy.  “Would you like me to become your mistress?”

“I do like you, O good lady,” said the grand lion.  “But God has told me that the man or woman

who adopts me must hear my riddle and then answer my riddle.”

“What kind of riddle do you have for me to answer, O grand lion?” asked Miss

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Windemereshire.  “I warn you:  I am great with riddles.”

“It is a riddle from the Holy Bible, gentle lady,” said the lion.

“Alas.  I know no nothing from the Bible, fine lion,” said Bitsy, suddenly unsure.

“Then you cannot answer my riddle?” asked the young male lion.

“I have a boyfriend who can answer your riddle.  He knows all about the Bible,” said Bitsy.

“I am he,” said Proffery.  “If God be with me, I can answer your riddle.”

“Do you wish to become my master, good sir?” asked the lion.

“No, O good lion.  But if I can answer your riddle with the right answer on her behalf, maybe she could become your mistress,” said Proffery Coins, who knew God.

“God would not mind such an arrangement,” said the lion.  Then he asked, “Fair maiden, do you like me?”

“Oh, I surely do!” she said.

“Then I shall right now pose your boyfriend my Bible riddle,” said the lion.  “If he answers my riddle from the Bible with the correct answer from the Bible, I shall become yours.”

“Shoot,” said Proffery Coins with a silent word of prayer for wisdom from God.

And the lion said, “It is written, ‘Out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong came forth sweetness.’”

And already erudite in the scriptures, Proffery Coins at once answered, saying, “It is written, ‘What is sweeter than honey?  And what is stronger than a lion?’”

“Very well said, O wise man,” said the lion.

“We have become mistress and lion!” said Bitsy Shea Windemereshire.

“What do you wish my name to be?” asked the lion unto his new mistress.

“I would like to call you, ‘Mane,’” she said.  “And my name is ‘Bitsy,’”

“Your Mane is forever after in your service, Mistress,” said the great lion Mane with a bow of

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his regal head before his new owner.

And then Proffery Coins went on to explain to his girlfriend the tale of this riddle and its answer:  It was one of Samson’s many exploits.  And it was found in Judges chapter fourteen.  The riddle itself was in verse fourteen; and the answer itself was in verse eighteen.  In the vineyards of Timnath a young lion attacked Samson.  And the Holy Spirit of God came down from Heaven upon Samson and did give him super physical strength.  And Samson slew this roaring lion with his bare hands.  Then Samson went to see his Philistine fiancée.  And when he came back home, he saw that lion carcass lying there still, but now with a swarm of bees and honey in the carcass.  Then Samson celebrated his betrothal by a feast.  And thirty companions also came to his party.  And Samson said, “I have a riddle for you guys.  If you can answer my riddle before these seven days of feast end, I will give you thirty sheets and thirty outfits.  But if you cannot answer my riddle before these seven days of feast end, you will give me thirty sheets and thirty outfits.  He told them this riddle:  “Out of the eater came forth meat; and out of the strong came forth sweetness.” This was that lion slain and lying there and with the bees and honey upon him.  And these companions right away came up to Samson’s Philistine bride and convinced her to make Samson tell her the answer to the riddle, lest they burn down her house.  She cried woman’s tears; Samson gave in and told her; she told the companions; and on the seventh day the companions came up and told Samson.  And this answer was, “What is sweeter than honey?  And what is stronger than a lion?”  Of course this was about the honey in the dead lion.  And Samson, tricked by a woman, could only say in sarcasm to the winners of this bet, “If ye had not plowed with my heifer, ye had not found out my riddle.”

And after this unique fellowship among woman and man and lion, Bitsy thanked Proffery for having answered Mane’s riddle, Proffery thanked God for his wisdom, and mistress and lion became each other’s for forever after.  With the approval of the talking lion, Bitsy won Mane in the Iron Mountain Animal Auction with no challenging bidders at a good price.  That was how Bitsy

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Shea Windemereshire and Mane had become mistress-and-pet.

Third, Redde Steady Westminster and Battles went on to narrate their story of their first day together:

She was “Little Redde,” then, a five-year-old girl off on an adventure with the family Saluki

dog.  In fact, she was riding the family Saluki dog.  “Run like the wind, Long Ears!  Run like the wind!” said Little Redde on the back of the big white dog.  And they came up to a sign that read, “Welcome to Door County.”  Learned despite her few years, Little Redde read this sign out loud to Long Ears, and Long Ears pretended to understand what her mistress was saying.  Long Ears was not a talking dog, and Long Ears did not comprehend human words.  But she did return Little Redde’s love right back to her with the faithfulness and loyalty of all good natural dogs.  Dogs such as Long Ears were appropriately called “man’s best friend,” and truly was Long Ears “Little Redde’s best friend.”

And Saluki and rider passed this sign and entered Door County, where all the tart red cherry trees were.

And soon they came upon a grove of such trees.  And dog and rider stopped, and Little Redde dismounted, and Little Redde reached up toward a lowest branch to pick a tart red cherry to eat.  But she could not reach.  She then mounted Long Ears again, stood up upon her tall canine back and reached for that one most tempting cherry on a lowest branch.  But still she could not reach it.  “Woe!” cried out Little Redde.  And she jumped back onto the ground.  “I can’t get any tart red cherries, Long Ears.” lamented the very little girl.  In search of help for his little mistress, Long Ears looked off toward  the east and began to bark.

“What do you see, girl?” called forth Redde.

And the Saluki ran off toward the east, and Redde ran off with him to go and see.  Behold, right along the shoreline of the Bay of Green Bay, what looked to be a great natural home for a great family of animals.  This was a den.  And it was a griffin den.  And a whole family of griffins was in this den, living their free lives as nature had them to.  This griffin den was a great maze in the sand of the shores,

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with paths and ways and rooms ten feet deep into the ground.  There were no walls above ground.  There were no roofs above their heads.  And the sands of the underground walls and underground floors were the dark sands of wet and moist sand close to the bay.  It was as if a family lived in a great big basement with no roof above it.  And water from the waves continuously washed ashore and splashed down into this subterranean den of griffins, and it did not disrupt them as they did their things down here deep in the shore.  This griffin den covered a most great span of this wide and deep beach.

And the hallways throughout this underground maze occupied more square footage than did the rooms of this underground maze.  Saluki and little girl could see all the griffin family down there, and the griffin family could see the Saluki and the little girl up here.  Little Redde could see the mom griffin and the dad griffin and five little griffins in this family here in their den.  The mom griffin was picking at a dead deer to prepare for dinner.  The dad griffin was dragging a dead black bear into a storage room for later sometime.  And the five little griffins were playing a game of keep away with a badger carcass in a big room.  And right now all seven griffins stopped from their work and their play to look up at their visitors watching them.  The oldest of the kid griffins, who looked to be about like unto a teenager as far as people years go, looked up at Little Redde and asked, “Tiny girl person, welcome to our humble little den.  Do come down and in, if you would.”

Long Ears began to whine.  The teenager griffin asked, “What creature is that with you now, O girl person, who makes such a noise as she does?”

“She is my Saluki dog, O griffin,” said Redde.  “Let’s come down and in, Long Ears.  It’s all right.”

And the little girl came right down into the griffin den to be with this friendly male griffin who spoke to her, and Long Ears came down in after her.  At once the whole rest of the griffin family of seven wound their way through the maze and quickly joined the eldest offspring and his two guests.

But neither Little Redde, innocent, nor Long Ears, trusting, felt afraid down here with this wild griffin

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family in their wild griffin den.

“What can we do for you, person girl?” asked the eldest offspring.

“I have a problem,” said Little Redde. “All I want is one little tart red cherry from the nice tree, and neither I nor Long Ears can reach it for me.”

“I can help you, girl person,” said this oldest of the griffin kids.

“You can?” asked Redde.  “I would be so happy,”

Meanwhile, the four other griffin children began to play a fun game of “hide and seek” with the playful Saluki.

The mom griffin said to the dad griffin in whisper, “Our eldest is talking to a human.”

And the dad griffin said to the mom griffin in whisper, “We may lose him from our den.”

Their oldest offspring might run off from this unicorn den in a new life as pet to this mistress.

The mom griffin said to the dad griffin, “It may be his time to move out.”

And the dad griffin said to the mom griffin, “He’s growing up.”  And the parent griffins accepted this possibility in their parental hearts.

“Hop onto my back, and I will fly you to your cherry tree, and then you can have all of the tart red cherries that you can eat,” said the new friend to Little Redde.

Five-year-old Redde did just that, and the new griffin friend lifted up out of the maze of den, flew back to the cherry grove, and hovered in the air just alongside that lowest branch of that tree whose tart red cherry she could not previously reach.  And now with ease, Little Redde reached out to her side, picked that tart red delight, and put it in her mouth and spat out the pit, and did eat the most wonderful little fruit.  “Oh, thank you so much, nice griffin,” she did say.

As he hovered there alongside the most abundant tart red cherry tree, he did say, “Have some more, little people girl.  Have a lot more.  Have them all.”

“Goody!  Goody!  Thank you!  Thank you!” said Little Redde Westminster.  And she reached,

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and she picked, and she ate until she was full, all the while the kind and benevolent griffin hovering there above the ground beside this adored little tree.

Meanwhile, all the younger griffin children and the Saluki were having a very good time together playing animal games throughout the maze.  And sometimes the griffins won, and sometimes Long Ears won.  This visit was most happy for both the hosts and the guests.

The mom griffin said to the dad griffin, “Is the girl going to ask first, or is our son going to ask first?”

The dad griffin said to the mom griffin, “The person is the one who is first to ask.  She will ask him.  He will ask us.  And then he leaves the den.”

“How do you feel?” asked the mom griffin to the dad griffin.

“Sad, as do you.” said the dad griffin to the mom griffin.  “But it is time,”

“Yes.  It is time,” said the mom griffin.

Then Little Redde asked her best griffin friend, “Would you like to become my pet?”

The griffin friend flew back to his mom and dad and asked them, “May I become this female person’s pet, Mom and Dad?”

And his mom and dad said, “Yes, Son.  You may go away with your new mistress with both of our blessings.”

“What is your name, O good griffin friend?” asked Little Redde.

“My name is ‘Battle,’” said this teenager male griffin.

“May I call you ‘Battles’ instead?” asked Little Redde.

“That you may, my good mistress,” said Battles.

And girl and griffin and dog came back home to the girl’s mom and dad.  That was how Redde Steady Westminster and Battles had first found each other and become mistress and griffin.

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CHAPTER XII

The three men got together at Flanders’s place to fellowship in the Lord and tell how they had first met their special girlfriends long ago.

And Flanders Arckery Nickels went first:  His heart was smitten by Aphrodite when she sang a song.  It was at his Baptist church’s New Year’s Day Party.  And Aphrodite, a stranger to the whole church and to Flanders, was there as an invited guest.  This Aphrodite had come as a friend to a friend to a friend.  This party took place out in back of the church where all the picnic tables were.  For food the men of the church grilled out hot dogs and hamburgers and bratwursts and chicken and roasted corn-on-the-cob.  For drink the women of the church made hot apple cider with a cinnamon stick and hot tea and hot coffee and hot cocoa.  And because it was January 1^st, everyone had on winter coats and scarves and hats and mittens and boots and thick socks.  This was the tradition of Foundational Baptist Church—to ring in the new year outside instead of inside, and to do so at twelve o’clock noon instead of at twelve o’clock midnight.  It is warmer and brighter in January in the daylight than it is in the nightlight.   And the young woman Miss Tea went around all the members of the church bidding them      

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all, “Happy New Year!”  And they all replied back to her in good cheer, “Happy New Year!”  But when she came to Flanders, she said to him, “Happy New Year!”  And she shook his hand with both of hers, holding on to his hand for a prolonged moment.  And he did not reject her.

And he said to her, “Happy New Year!”  And he gave away a smile in his eyes at her.  And he added his second hand to their handshake for this prolonged special moment of magic.  Then they drew apart their hands.  And Flanders finally saw a pretty girl in his little church in this young lass who looked to be about his age.  And then this pretty lass continued on with the New Year’s party, mingling most amiably with the flock of this little Baptist church.  And Flanders Nickels wondered upon this special woman with great marvel.  Her face and her form and her outfit and her voice especially were all the most beautiful things that he had seen in women all of his life since first having discovered girls back in his teenage years.  What does a lonely young Christian man do when he finally finds a real dream girl?  He goes and finds out about her spiritual state before he asks her out.  Was this dream girl saved or lost?  If this dream girl were saved, was she living for God or not living for God?  If this dream girl were lost, would she be receptive to his sharing of Christ with her for the good of her soul, or would she not be receptive to his sharing of Christ with her for the good of her soul?  A lost dream girl would be worse than a saved plain girl in his walk with Christ.  His first loyalty must be to God.

Flanders Nickels was a born-again Christian.  And he loved Jesus most of all here in his young years as a believer.  He had never loved a girl or a woman before in his lonely life.

Then Pastor Minister spoke to the flock in this New Year’s Day Party, “Good folks, we have a professional singer here with us today on our New Year’s picnic.  Her name is Aphrodite Tea.  And she has agreed to sing a song for us today.  We all know it is as ‘Auld Lang Syne.’  Let us all stand and hear her sing this song for the new year.”

Everybody stood.  And it was Flanders’s beautiful dream girl who came up to sing!  Flanders at once felt most invigorating magic of romance now about to blossom in his young man’s heart.  And this

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most fascinating woman in the world, whose name was most fittingly called, “Aphrodite” looked him right in his eyes with both of her eyes, and she began to sing that classic and resonant song:

“1.  Should auld acquaintance be forgot

And ne’er brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And days o’ lang syne!

For auld lang syne, my dear

For auld lang syne,

We’ll tak a cup o’kindness yet

For auld lang syne!

2. We twa hae run about the braes,

And pu’d the gow ans fine,

But we’ve wandered mony a weary fool

Sin’ auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear

For auld lang syne,

We’ll tak a cup o’kindness yet

For auld lang syne!

3.  We twa hae paid l’t in the burn

Frae morning sun till dine,

But seas between us braid hae roar’d

Sin’ auld lang syne

For auld lang syne, my dear

For auld lang syne,

We’ll tak a cup o’kindness yet

For auld lang syne!

4.  And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere,

And gie’s a hand o’ thine.

And we’ll tak a right guid willie-waught

For auld lang syne!

For auld lang syne, my dear

For auld lang syne,

We’ll tak a cup o’kindness yet

For auld lang syne!

5.  And surely ye’ll be your pint’ stoup

And surely I’ll be mine!

And we’ll tak a cup o’kindness yet

For auld lang syne

For auld lang syne, my dear

For auld lang syne

We’ll take a cup o’kindness yet

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For auld lang syne!”

The Greek goddess Aphrodite herself could not have sung this song as well as this dream girl woman Aphrodite had just sung this song.  Indeed she had sung it to Flanders and for Flanders and because of Flanders.  She really liked him.  And he loved her.  That much he could tell, even though all of these things were so suddenly happening that were all brand new to him.  This that was happening in his heart right now was second only to his born-again conversion to Christ as Saviour.  He had found a girl.  And in her eyes up there looking at him, she was saying silently, “Could I become your girlfriend?”  His lips silently said toward her, “Yes!”   And her lips also said in silence toward him, “Yes!”  And she left the front of the flock amid cheers and lots of “Amen’s.”  And she and Flanders drew near to each other, and they met in the middle, and he said audibly to her before them all as they listened, “Aphrodite, will you become my girlfriend?”

And she said before this captive listening audience, “I shall be happy as your girlfriend, Flanders.”  She knew his name!  How did she know his name!  And she said, “I read all of your stories that you write.”  Well, that was how she knew him.  He had the world’s most beautiful woman as one of his fans.  And she, as a singer, had a most enamored boyfriend as her new greatest fan.  And writer and singer became boyfriend-and-girlfriend.  But he had forgotten to ask her the most important question:  “Are you a born-again believer, O Aphrodite Tea?”

And she did not then tell Flanders, this pillar of the church, that she did not know Christ as personal Saviour as he did.

And Pastor Minister and his wife Emmy looked at each other here at the New Year’s Day Party,

and they shook their heads in great spiritual disapproval of Flanders’s choice for girlfriend.

Next, here at the get-together among the three men at Flanders’s place of fellowship, Proffery Rule Coins went on to tell his and Bitsy’s tale of how he and she had first found each other and became boyfriend-and-girlfriend ever since:

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It happened at Bomier Street Boat Launch in De Pere.  It was just down the road on the railroad tracks from Mom and Dad’s house, and Proffery took his Bible there to read it at a picnic table in the nice outdoors of good summer weather.  He found his favorite picnic table in the shade along the Fox River there at that park, and sat down there, and opened his King James Bible.  And he read from Romans chapter six:  “What shall we say then?  Shall we continue in sin, that grace may abound?”…  “God forbid.  How shall we, that are dead to sin, live any longer therein?”…”Knowing this, that our old man is crucified with him, that the body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth we should not serve sin.”…”Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, bur alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord.”…”Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, that ye should obey it in the lusts thereof.”…”Neither yield ye your members as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin:  but yield yourselves unto God, as those that are alive from the dead, and your members as instruments of righteousness unto God.”…”For sin shall not have dominion over you: for ye are not under the law, but under grace.”…”What then?  Shall we sin, because we are not under the law, but under grace?  God forbid.”…”Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are to whom ye obey; whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness?”  All of this was in Romans six.  It said that sin was a bad thing to do and think and say.  At this young age for a believer

Proffery Coins lived a most good blameless life.  He obeyed the “Thou shalt’s” and the “Thou shalt not’s” in the Scriptures.  And when he did fall into sin from time to time, he quickly came to God and confessed and forsook that sin, thereby keeping short tabs with God.  He obeyed his mom and dad.  He, of course, did not kill; nor did he hold on to unforgiveness in his heart.  Of course he did not commit adultery or fornication; he was too young to think upon such things.  He did not steal; it could never be said of him, “He’ll take anything that is not tied down.”  He did not lie or use his tongue in an evil way with regard to his neighbor or anyone else.  And he did not want anything that was not his; nothing that his neighbors had did he desire.  Young Proffery Coins kept the ten commandments as a sterling      

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testimony to God of a most spiritual and scriptural teenage boy.  The Good Lord Jesus was well pleased with Proffery Rule Coins.

Then he saw a jet ski upon the wide river coming toward him.  That looked like fun.  They were like snowmobiles on the water. This jet ski was yellow, like a Ski-Doo snowmobile.  And there were two passengers riding it.  And as he watched, he saw them come up to the dock right in front of where he was sitting at the shore.  The driver was an old man and a the passenger was a teenage girl.  Both were wearing life vests.  The man looked to be her grandfather, and he had a full head of white hair as a  robust and healthy older guy.  She had a most unusual head of black hair; it was unusual because it was pretty.  Proffery did not know what to make of this.  He decided not to reflect or pray about that right now.  The two riders got off of their jet ski and stepped out onto the dock, and they took off their life jackets and set them upon the dock.  Why, the pretty girl was dressed, in all things, in a long-sleeved girls’ gymnastic leotard!  What a thing for a girl to wear on the water!  A one-piece swimsuit or a two-piece swimsuit would have been more to be expected upon a young lady than any gymnastics apparel here on a jet ski on the Fox River!  And it got all wet from the fun little ride.  This gymnastics leotard had a most eye-catching and alluring pattern to it top to bottom and left to right and front and back.

A glossy thick black bar ran down its front from top to bottom; and above that was a lustrous field of deep red with a long sleeve of deep red; and below that was a field of glistening white with a long sleeve of this same white.  He had just discovered girls in his life right now.  And just a moment ago in his Bible reading, God was speaking to him, saying, “Do not let yourself fall into sin.”  Girls were not bad.  Even though girls were suddenly a brave new thing for him, he still knew that girls were not bad.

The right girl for him would be very good—both for him and for his life in Christ.  God said in the Bible in Genesis 2:18, “…It is not good that the man should be alone;…”  There was a right girl for this boy who had suddenly become a man.  And the knowledgeable young Proffery knew that the right girl for him had to be born again and living for God.  Otherwise he would fall into sin, of which his Bible

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reading here at this picnic table had warned him.  In wonder of her body, he looked and saw her to be between girlhood and womanhood up there within her gymnastics leotard.  And in wonder of her countenance, he looked and saw beauty of every feature of all of her head with a puppy love of first crush.  He wanted her, though he did not know what he could do with her.  He wanted not immorality.

He wanted not kissing or hugging or petting.  He wanted not physical desires satisfied.  He wanted her to talk to.  He wanted her to be with him.  He wanted her to be a part of his daily life.  He would go up to her and ask her out for a date.

And he went up to her to talk to her and to ask her out on a date and to have her become his first and last girlfriend both at once.  He came up to this most beguiling girl gymnast with boldness and inexperience, and he said to her, “Excuse me, but I really like your leotard.”

Whether that was a wrong way or a right way to introduce himself to “his first girl.” he did not know.  But this was the most flattering way to introduce himself to her in her eyes.  This girl loved gymnastics leotards more than she did her own self, and she was at once comfortable with this strange new boy.  And she answered his question, saying, “It is my junior high school girl’s gymnastics leotard.

Do you like it?”

For her and for him, Proffery Coins said again, “I do really like it,”  Then he asked, “What school do you go to?”

And she said, “Lena Junior High School.”

“I go to East De Pere Junior High School,” he said.  “I am a De Pere Redbird.”

“I am a Lena Wildcat,” she did tell him.

“My name is ‘Proffery,’” he told her.

“And I am ‘Bitsy,’” she said.  “That’s the perfect name for a short gal that I am.”

“I am no taller than you,” he said.  “Do you have anyone else that you see?”

“You mean ‘boyfriends,’ Proffery?” she asked.

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“Yeah, Bitsy,” he said.

“No, Proffery,” she said.

“Would you like one?” he asked.  “A boyfriend, that is?”

“I didn’t before,” she said.  “But now I think that I would like that.”

“Could I become he?” he asked.

Just then her grandfather spoke up and said,  “Is that a Bible on your picnic table young man?”  Proffery turned to the patriarch and nodded.  And the grandfather said, “I don’t know, Bitsy.  He might be too extreme in his Christianity with you.”

“Oh, Grandpa!” she said in rebuke.  “A Christian boy would be just right for me.”  Then she turned to Proffery and said, “You are a Christian with that Bible, aren’t you?”

“I am, Bitsy,” he said.  “Are you a Christian, too?”

“No!  No!” she said too eagerly.

“That is good,” said the grandpa.

In Proffery Coins’s heart the Holy Spirit told him, “That is bad!”  He wavered now between God and girl.

Then Bitsy said, “Would you like a girlfriend, Proffery?”

“Could it be you, Bitsy?” he asked.

“Yes!  Yes!” she did say.

And Proffery Coins found his girlfriend Bitsy Shea Windemereshire.  That was the story of how   he and Bitsy had first met and become boyfriend and girlfriend all their years since.

Next, Regal Royal Sixpence went on to narrate his story about his girlfriend Redde.  He went on and told the two men with him here at Flanders’s place how he and Redde Steady Westminster had first discovered each other and how they had become boyfriend and girlfriend long ago from then on:

He was sixteen, and she was sixteen, and it happened at Grove Park one day when he was

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reading an Encyclopedia Brown novel.  Grove park was a most spacious and well-kept park with an orange grove and a grapefruit grove and a lemon grove and a lime grove.  Anyone who wished were allowed to freely pick a citrus fruit from any of these trees and eat.  And Grove Park was in the heart of the city Grove’s Corners.  As Regal Sixpence sat in the grass under a grapefruit tree, reading this novel, he read of Encyclopedia Brown, the brilliant child detective, who always got to the truth of the mystery every time.  And Regal read of Sally Kimball, the tall, strong girl who was Encyclopedia’s friend.  And Regal read of Bugs Meany, the neighborhood bully and Encyclopedia’s enemy.  Reading all about Sally’s prowess on behalf of Encyclopedia was Regal Sixpence’s favorite scenes in these novels.  And right now he was coming to just such a scene in this novel, too.  And he could not wait to see how the author Donald Sobol was going to write this one this time.  Once again Bugs Meany was confronting Encyclopedia Brown and threatening him and ready to beat him up.  Along came Sally Kimball, Encyclopedia Brown’s female bodyguard.  Sally assaulted Bugs with a barrage.  And it was a barrage of punches that she attacked Bugs with.  After one punch Bugs saw dizziness.  After five punches Bugs saw stars.  And after ten punches Bugs did not see anything anymore.  He now lay upon the ground punched out cold.  And Sally rescued Encyclopedia again.  As Regal read this action in this children’s mystery novel here in the grapefruit tree grove, he wondered about girls throwing punches.  It must hurt to be punched—even if by a girl, especially by a tall strong girl like this Sally.

Just then a commotion and a clamor came upon this grapefruit grove not far from Regal’s picnic table where he was reading.  He heard a stentorian voice yell out, “Away with you pretty women in your pretty clothes with your pretty ways!”  And he looked up and saw a most gruesome giantess ugly in face and ugly in clothes and ugly in ways.  She right then took a group of five young women about eighteen years old and threw them hard into the trunk of a grapefruit tree.  Their heads all hit the tree, and their selves all fell to the ground in a daze.  And the giantess said with the volume of thunder, “If I can’t have any boyfriends, no girls can have any boyfriends!”  Regal was too confused to quite know

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what to do right now.

“Hera, don’t hurt us,” cried out the five women.

“I won’t hurt you.  I’ll just kill you,” said Hera the Gargantua of a jealous woman.

Behold, along came a young woman no bigger than any one of the five women that were sprawled upon the ground by the tree.    She was a redhead, and Regal found himself instantly quite attracted to her.  She looked to be his own age.  But she seemed to be coming right in unto this mighty Hera like the boy David had done with Goliath in I Samuel chapter seventeen.  “Ouch!” said Regal to himself.  She was going to get hurt, he thought for sure.  Get away, O pretty little redhead!  And Hera swung her mighty fist toward the charging woman’s head.  But the redhead easily evade this punch with a dodge of her head. It was a clumsy punch at that.  But then it got real exciting.  The redheaded

young lady at once began to work over this Colossus of a woman with all manner of rights and lefts, with jabs and crosses and roundhouses and uppercuts, with shots to the face and to the head and to the body—all very professionally done by a very experienced prize fighter of a girl. And not a minute went by with this big fight before this Hera fell to the ground, knocked out cold.  And the beautiful redhead stood over the fallen giant and looked down upon her in victory.

“Wow, pretty lady!” said Regal, falling now into a crush for this boxer of a girl.  “Well done!

Whoa!”

And the five young ladies thanked this stranger who had come to rescue them, and this stranger asked them if they were okay, and they all nodded their heads, and she helped them back up to their feet.

Then she turned to Regal, who had praised her her prize fighting deed here in the grove.  And she asked him in self-effacement, “Sir, do you think that I did good?”

And he said, “That was pretty how you worked her over like you did, Miss.”

“I never did anything quite like that before outside of the ring like this,” she confessed.  “Why,

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I could have had my block knocked off.”

“Do you know her?” he asked.

“No, O sir.  I never met her before in my life,” said the girl boxer.

“Does she know you?” he asked.

“No, sir.  She never met me before in my life,” said the redhead.

“Well, she knows you now…when she comes back to.  And she will not mess with you again,” said Regal Sixpence.

“That’s good,” said the pretty young lady.  “My hands hurt now after that fight.  I’m used to always wearing boxing gloves when I box.”

“Think how much her head hurts!” he teased her.  Both boy and girl laughed.  “What’s your name?”

“I am Redde,” she said.  “Redde Steady Westminster.  What’s your name?”

“I am Regal,” he said.  “Regal Royal Sixpence.”

She looked at the book he had on his picnic table.  “Ah, Regal, Encyclopedia Brown.  I read that, too.”  And right after that, Redde asked Regal, “Do I punch like Sally?”  They laughed together again.

And Regal said, “Yes, O Redde.  You punch just like Sally.”

“Do you real lots of books, Regal?” asked Miss Westminster.

“No, not a lot.  Usually I read my Bible at this park.  This is the first time that I brought a book that is not the Good Book to this park, Redde,” said Regal.

“You read the Bible?” she asked.

The King James Bible,” he said.

“Are you one of those born-again people?” she asked.

“Yes.  I am at that,” he professed boldly his salvation.

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“I thought that born again people bring their Holy Bibles everywhere they go,” she said in judgment of his reading material here today at his special park with God.

“I didn’t bring my Bible to this picnic table today,” he confessed.  “But that is my very first time I did that, Redde.”

“Did you pray yet at your picnic table?” she asked.

“No.  I did not pray yet today at Grove Park at this picnic table where I do worship,” he confessed.

“I thought that born-again people always loved to pray everywhere they went,” she said.

“Usually I do, Redde,” he said.  “But I did not get around to it yet today.”

“Were you praying for me just now in my big fight?” she asked.

‘No, Redde.  I did not think to pray for you just now,” he said.

“A Christian should always be ready to pray,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“That’s all right,” she said.  “Can we become girlfriend-and-boyfriend?” she asked.

“Even after all the things that I did not do today at this picnic table, Redde?” he asked.

“Because of all the things that you did not to today at your and God’s picnic table,  O Regal,” said Miss Westminster.

Here in fellowship with the two other men at Flanders’s place in giving his testimony of how he and Redde Westminster had first discovered each other, Regal told them of how Pastor Minister of Foundational Baptist Church always warned his young men in the flock, “Sometimes a woman can get a man to do something that the Devil himself cannot make the man do.”  Yet he chose to go out with a beautiful woman who wanted him for his one moment of carelessness with his day’s worship.  That was how Redde and he had become girlfriend and boyfriend.  And he was not going to give her up now.  She meant too much to him now, after all of these wonderful years since.

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CHAPTER XIII

Flanders wrote in his novel, “Quite the spell of the peace of Heaven exceeds the magic of romance on Earth.”  He said to God now, “Amen!”  Writing was always so much fun.  And God had blessed him not only with an innate desire to write, but also with Holy-Ghost-inspired ideas as he did write.  Flanders Nickels had the gift of writing, and this gift came from God.  It is written, “Every good gift an every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.”  James 1:17.  Again it is written, “John answered and said, A man can receive nothing, except it be given him from heaven.”  John 3:27.  And just think, as much as writing down here did fill him up to the uttermost, writing Up There was going to be even all the better still for his soul and for his spirit.  He could not wait to get There.  He wanted the rapture.  “Even so, come, Lord Jesus,” he did pray now once again.  He thought upon the hymn “In the Garden.”  To him this hymn was all about being in his Saviour’s physical Presence Up in Glory.  He was going to walk with Him and to talk with Him.  And this “garden” was going to be anywhere that the Good Lord was in Heaven in His deified Self.  Allegorically, Flanders Nickels daydreamed this garden to be a beatific field of ripe watermelons and a divine field of ripe pumpkins.  And in Heaven, Flanders Arckery Nickels was going to be “in the garden,” walking and talking with God.  What was Flanders’s most

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anticipated attribute about Heaven?  Peace and peacefulness.  What was Flanders’s favorite attribute about Jesus?  Peace and peacefulness.  What, in its perfection, could make Flanders forget all of his trials in this life?  Peace and peacefulness.  Heaven was the Place of perfect peace.  Up There peace was in the very air and within all hearts of the saints.  He sang the hymn lyric now alone in his writing room:  “Perfect rest to me is promised in my Father’s house above.”  Jesus Christ Himself was called “The Prince of Peace” in Isaiah 9:6.  In John 14:27, his Jesus promised, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you:  not as the world giveth, give I unto you.  Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”  And in Philippians 4:7 God said, “And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”  The Bible did not say much about what Heaven was going to be in its trial-free refuge.  But it did say something about what Heaven was not going to be in its trial-free sanctuary.  It is written, “And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain:  for the former things are passed away.”  Revelation 21:4.  He thought now upon Heaven and its Elysian Shores of the songs of the waves and the songs of the seagulls.  He thought now upon Heaven and its Elysian Fields of most pastoral field grass and the songs of the crickets. He thought upon how he was going to be There in perfect fellowship with his two friends and brothers-in-the-Lord Proffery and Regal.  He thought upon how the women—Aphrodite and Bitsy and Redde—were not going to be There with them.  And he pondered the doom of beloved Aphrodite Dea Tea, his own most precious girlfriend.  While he would be rejoicing forever in the joys of Heaven, dear Aphrodite would be suffering forever in the torments of Hell.  Surely this should stir him up to go and try harder right now to win her soul for her own good.  But, instead, he thought of how he was never going to get another chance with her to maybe dare touch her so-fetching hair of brown.  He dared pray to God right now, “If I don’t touch her hair now, I may never get another chance, God.”  He paused now to fantasize brand new thoughts about his ever-present temptation with the girl who freely proffered her hair

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which he had always rejected with his hands.  What if he let his forehead of bangs go and touch her forehead of bangs?  What if he let the side of his head with his hair lean against the side of her head with her hair?  What if he went frisky on her finally and did go and pull on a strand of her hair in the back of her head?  What if he took his whole right hand and ran it all the way down her hair along the left side of her head?  What if he took his whole left hand and ran it all the way down her hair along the right side of her head?  What if he took his thumb and index finger and stroked her brown bangs—the very best part of this ravishing brunette’s idyllic head of hair?  If his dreamed-for rapture of the saints did happen, he would never get to do all of these fun things with his unsaved girlfriend.  Or if he were to die, this could never happen for him. Or if she were to die, this could never happen for him.  Aphrodite Dea Tea had angels’ hair.  And he needed now finally to find out all about it.  And he must touch the woman’s straight brown hair.  Now or never!  To justify his turning to the left and turning to the right of the straight way of God, he quoted scripture out of context saying, “After all, God, ‘…the righteous are bold as a lion.’  Proverbs 28:1.”  And he ran out of his room of writing for God and jumped down the stairs and leaped out of his house to “run away with his love” to a place of “that magic of romance.” that he had written in his novel just a while ago.

Behold, at his very front door just at this particular time, Aphrodite Dea Tea herself, just about to knock!  He almost ran over her in his sprint to get to her place.  “Aphrodite!” he said in surprise and in delights.

“Flanders,” she said.

“Funny that you should be here right now,” he said.

“How come?” she asked.

“I was just about to come over,” he said.

“And here I am at your place,” she said.

“Why did you come?” he asked, hoping for a flirtatious reply.

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And his unsaved girlfriend gave him the most flirtatious reply he wanted to hear right now and right here, “I came to touch your hair, Flanders.”  Her countenance clearly indicated her doubts that always came with such a request all the other times she had asked such things of her saved boyfriend.  He had never proffered his hair to her hands before when she had asked.  Now would be no different for her.  But this time she could see a glimmer of hopes in his eyes before that she had not seen yet in their many years of dating.  And she pursued this opportunity subtly.  And she asked him, “Why were you coming to my place just now, Flanders?”

“To maybe touch your hair, Aphrodite,” he said in a hard-to-hear mumbling.

“Flanders, did you say what I think you said?” she asked.  “What is it that you said to me?”

And he said clearly now, “I was coming over to your place to see if I could maybe just touch your hair one time, Aphrodite.”

“Why, Flanders.  You said it!” she exclaimed.

“I said it,” he confessed.  “I said it, Aphrodite.

Just then a familiar equine voice spoke and said, “He did, Mistress,”  It was Stables there out front.  Flanders had not seen him standing there.

Flanders Nickels was dumbfounded for this moment.  And Aphrodite went on further with her feminine wiles before he changed his mind.  And she said, “Shall we go to my place and do that, Flanders?”

“It would not take Stables long at all to bring us there,” he said.

“My unicorn runs a lot faster than you do,” teased the girlfriend.

“We two can have some fun together in your four sand dunes, Aphrodite,” said Flanders Nickels.

“Let us go at once.  I cannot wait.  I’ve got to do that now.” said Aphrodite three short declarative sentences.

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And Flanders Nickels replied with three sentence fragments, “Right now.  Ready or not.  No matter what.”

And girlfriend and boyfriend mounted the unicorn and the unicorn galloped with hurry back to his mistress’s place.  And girlfriend and boyfriend leaped off of Stables and ran out onto the four little sand dunes.  He took off his shoes and walked around the sands in his bare feet, his mind lost in wonder about what was going to happen here between them.  She took off her boots and also walked around in reverie upon the sand in her bare feet for this most inspiring moment.

He then spoke and said, “I need to ask you to do one thing in order to get me into the mood.”

“To touch my hair?” she asked.  “What do you want me to do to get you to touch my hair?  Name it, Flanders, and I will do it.”

“I need to hear you sing a song,” he said.

“If I do sing, do you promise that you will not hold back?” she asked.

“I never made a promise to stroke your hair before, Aphrodite,” he said.

“With the hope of such a promise, Flanders, I promise you that I will sing to you like I sang to no one else ever before,” said wily Aphrodite.

“You like Debbie Gibson.  I like Debbie Gibson,” he said.  “Could you sing me a Debbie Gibson song?”

“I can sing for you, handsome boyfriend, my favorite Debbie Gibson song,” promised Aphrodite.

“Out of the Blue!” he said, all caught up in the ardor of this moment.  “Yes!  Yes!  Sing ‘Out of the Blue,’ for me, O Aphrodite!”

“Only if you promise to let me touch your hair and only if you promise to let yourself touch my hair, Flanders Nickels,” she said.

“Okay!  Okay!  I promise!” he said, falling head-over-heels in the spontaneity of this moment of

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this sweet magic of romance.

And Aphrodite Dea Tea sang a love song to Flanders Arckery Nickels.  It was Deborah Ann Gibson’s biggest hit.  For Aphrodite, it was her own “song of songs,” her most favorite song of them all.  And for Flanders, it was the song whose music video he loved more than all music videos.  It was the 1989 hit “Out of the Blue.”

As Aphrodite sang, at first Flanders reflected upon pretty Debbie.  But the voice was not Debbie’s.  His own Aphrodite was a professional singer on her own right.  Funny for Flanders right now that though this song now seemed not so melodic, still it sounded better because of who was singing it.  And then Flanders began to think, if this were Miss Gibson singing this to him now, it might be more melodic, but it would sound worse because it was not Aphrodite singing.  Aphrodite was his girlfriend whom he did love.  Miss Gibson was not his girlfriend whom he loved.  And, yes, Aphrodite did have a most beautiful voice of her own.  And the pop rock song continued.

And Flanders now forgot about that Miss Gibson, and he saw only gorgeous Aphrodite singing.

And Aphrodite Dea Tea’s “Out of the Blue” called out to him with an irresistible rapture.  Aphrodite was saying, “I love you,” in this song.  He had to say back to her, “I love you, too.”  Flanders had a Greek goddess singing a paean of romance to him.  And her head of long straight brown hair could conquer Hercules himself.  Such fair tresses of brown.  They were conquering Flanders now.  But he did not resist this time.  As he stared and as he listened, he felt his head grow giddy like a schoolboy

finding his first crush.  Aphrodite had often made dizzy with her sublime pulchritude before, but this time, he felt it as a truly transcendent experience.  And though all things were new and novel in his romance with her before, this time was like unto an enlightenment.  Such alluring strands of brown.

He must wait till the end of the song.  It was like her hair of brown was singing.  Then “Out of the Blue” ended.  But the spell did not end.  The magic of romance was about to soar to its apex.  And God should not mind.

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And Aphrodite went ahead to finish her work:  She cocked her head to the side and gave him a brown-eyed look; and she shook her head of much brown hair all about her head; and she said to him.
“Take me, boyfriend.  I’m all yours.”                                    

The unicorn Stables ran off. Boyfriend and girlfriend sat down together facing each other.  A gentle zephyr blew upon her celestial brown tresses.  Her head was close to his.  His head was close to hers.  It was time.  They felt that the time was right.  Flanders was about to put forth his hand to her hair.  She reached out her hand to his hair first.  And she ran her thumb and index finger down some strands of his bangs top to bottom.  He flinched, but he liked it.  He then ran his thumb and index finger down some tresses of her own bangs from top to bottom above her eyes.  He quickly retracted his hand, but it was fun. This was all so real.  And yet it was like wildest fantasy.  In evocative gesture, the girl went ahead and shook her full head of hair about herself where they were sitting.  And she lured in this man all the way to her will.  There was no more hesitation, no more holding back, no more restraint within the heart of Flanders Nickels.  And he leaned his forehead up against her forehead so that he could feel her bangs with his bangs.  In amorous response, she leaned the side of her head up against the side of his head.  And he felt her angel hair all the way from his ear to his cheek to his chin to his neck.  He then took his hand and ran all five of his fingers all the way down her long hair along this same side of her head.  This long stroke must have covered a good one-and-one-half feet of length.

Then he took his other hand and did the same stroke of her hair all the way down along her other side of her head.  Nothing felt better than this to Flanders before—not even a writing pencil in his hand.

She then did the same to him with her hands to both sides of his head with his shorter, guy’s hair.  She then turned her face away and proffered the whole back of her head of hair for him. He reached out his hand and gently grabbed a pile of the hair on this back of her head and ran his closed fingers down all the way to the bottom along her upper back.  “God made beautiful hair for you, Aphrodite,” he finally spoke in this romantic interlude.

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“And God made handsome hair for you, Flanders,” she did say.

Boyfriend and girlfriend continued stroking each other’s hair.

“Thank you for having changed my mind about all of this kind of thing, Aphrodite,” said Flanders.

“Thank you for having changed your mind about all of this kind of thing, Flanders,” said Aphrodite.

“I was wrong, and you were right all along,” he said.

Boyfriend and girlfriend continued stroking one another’s hair.                                          “Flanders, to show my gratitude for how you finally came along here for me right now, I would like to do something for you,” she said.

“What is it?” he asked.  “You say it, and I will not tell you, ‘No.’”

“I would really like to come to church with you this Sunday,” she said for her first time to him.

Yet, instead, Flanders said, “Well, I might not be in church this Sunday.”  He had never said such a thing before!

“Flanders, do you mean to tell me that you might skip out on church?” she asked, somewhat troubled and somewhat glad.

“Now I would rather be with you here in the sand dunes,” he said.

Boyfriend and girlfriend continued stroking hair.

Then Flanders said, “I think that I will write a story about our date here in these sand dunes today.”

“Will it be a real story?” she asked.

“It will be a nonfiction story.  Yes,” he said.

“But, Flanders, you are a writer of fantasy,” she said.

“Here with you everything has suddenly happened out of the blue, O Aphrodite,” he said.  “And

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my brand new nonfiction story will be better than any fiction story I ever wrote.”

“What a woman I am!” she said, feeling grand about herself.

“You have today changed my writing genre, O Aphrodite Dea Tea.” he declared.

“What an inspiration I am for an author!” she did say in braggadocio.

“You have become for me this day my living story,” he said.

“I am your story, and you are my song,” she said.

“Yes!  You are my story, and I am your song,” he said.

Boyfriend and girlfriend continued stroking tresses of brown hair.

Later that night, when Flanders Nickels was home alone again, he went right to his writing room to write about this most exciting day of his life with his beloved and most fun Aphrodite.  He thought now to write Aphrodite the story he promised her.  It was a romance story this time for his first time.  And it was not a religious/inspirational story this time for his first time.  And because it was nonfiction, he thought to not have to think hard as to what to write this time.  All the author Flanders Nickels had to do was to tell what really happened in his real life today at the sand dunes.  And he most

zealously picked up his writing pencil and fervidly sought to write from his heart.  That was how he had always written as a Christian these last few years—from his heart.  This time he would be writing the most emotional prose ever written, as he thought.  He wrote the title to his short story in pencil on the top of his yellow sheet of paper–”Brave New World.”  And he paused, looking for just the right word to start out his story, the right first word and the right first sentence and the right first paragraph

that had always come for him from God to begin any of his short stories.  Nothing came at first.  He

paused to wonder.  He paused to think about how this story should go.  He paused to call upon God and to wait upon God.  In his previous genre of short story, either the leading lady led Flanders to salvation, or Flanders led the leading lady to salvation.  But in this new genre of short story starting tonight,

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Flanders and the leading lady were going to stroke hair the whole story long.  And he called upon God now verbally for inspiration and ideas and that first word of this new type of story for himself.  He could not feel Holy Spirit Presence this time with his paper and with his pencil.  God did not seem to be with him this time at his writing.  And, even though his man’s heart was overflowing with ideas, he could not find the right idea to put on paper.   And he began to wonder whether this story would fail him or whether he would fail this story.  No short story that he had written in these more advanced years of his Christian walk had ever crashed on him before.  Pray God that this most exciting story of them all be not the first one to do so.  He had never found disappointment in a short story before.  But were such a disappointment happen now for him in this torrid afterword, and this time he could not write…how could he ever seek to write again?  In utter dismay he got down on his knees and prayed in desperation, saying out loud, “God, give it to me!”  God had to give him this story!  If God did not give him this story this moment, he might never write for God again.  This was not a borderline ultimatum

that Flanders Nickels was rebelling against the Lord with.  And God heard his challenge.  And God was not pleased with his desperate prayer.  And God was not pleased with his brand new story.  And God was not pleased with his most carnal date with the woman in her sand dunes.  And God took away from Flanders Nickels His hand of blessing for His first time in Flanders’s writing room.  And the story never came for Flanders.  And Flanders was angry at God.  And Flanders said to God in murmuring, “I shall never write again!”

Take heed, O Flanders!  God says in His Word, “As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten:  be zealous therefore and repent.”  Revelation 3:19.

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CHAPTER XIV

Proffery Coins was in his drawing room, sketching a most novel sketch of his King James Bible.  His drawing was of the gilt fore edges replete with its nineteen black thumb indexes in its two rows, and this Bible was vertical and held up by two wooden bookends upon some shelf.  Measuring eight-and-one half inches wide and eleven inches tall, Proffery’s sketch sheet was vertical and not horizontal where it rested upon his drawing table to fit the picture.  Then he was finished, and he went on next to draw a sketch of the other side of his King James Bible—the spine with the title of his Book written thereupon just as it was.

Just then the telephone rang.  He picked it up, and it was his Bitsy.  She asked him, “Proffery, could you come over and draw me again?”

He was already drawing his very Good Book.  But he said instead to her, “I’ll be right over!”

But then the girl said to him, “And could you bring your Bible again, Proffery?”

She had never liked him bringing his Bible to her place on any of their dates before, but now she wanted him to bring his Bible over on their date today.  Well-pleased, but suspicious, Proffery said,

“Sure, Bitsy.  But how come?”

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“Because in today’s sketch, I will be holding it in my hands, O Proffery,” she told him in a daring tone of voice.

“My gymnast holding my Bible!” he said.  “Whoa!”

“I thought that that would turn you on, Proffery,” she said.

Again he asked, “But how come?”

And she said, “That’s for me to know and for you to find out,”  She secretly felt that if she gave in a little with his Holy Bible like this, and did tempt him with such a novel drawing as this for him to draw of her, that maybe she could get him to give her a little kiss.  He was a guy—he loved seeing her in her gymnastics leotard.  He was a born-again believer—he would love to see his precious Bible in his girlfriend’s hands.  With both of these things tempting him toward her, she might get him to give up all of his inhibitions and finally give her a kiss.  After all, did not sometimes one thing lead to another on dates between a young man and a young woman, and before long something grand happened?  Her something grand had always been a kiss.  And today she thought to try this something new to lure him in.

And Proffery Coins answered her back, saying, “You know, and I will find out.”

And the man did not tarry in his trip to his girlfriend’s place.  And as soon as he got there, he took out his Bible and his paper and his pencils from his attache case.  And he said to her, “I never thought that the day would come where you tell me to draw a picture of you and of my Bible both in the same sketch, Bitsy!  And he said again, “How come all of a sudden?”

She cleverly evaded answer.  Instead she reached out her hands toward his Good Book, and she held it in both of her hands, herself, of course, covered in her traditional women’s gymnastic leotard.  At first she held her arms out away from herself as her hands were holding her boyfriend’s Bible.  Holding a Holy Book such as this made her feel dirty, because this Book was Good, and she was bad. But she quickly reminded herself in her heart that she had to make herself look sexy for her Christian    

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boyfriend.  So she brought her hands closer to herself to look more natural holding his Bible where she stood.

“That’s much better, girl!” he said.

The wily beguiler turned great temptress now, and she brought her arms all the way back to her chest, and she now held Proffery’s Holy Bible up against her breasts in both arms.  “How’s that, boyfriend?” she asked him in romance tones.

“That’s it, woman!” he said with bated breath.  “I will draw you now just like this!”

Proffery saw this gymnast as a desirable woman of God in his delusions as he drew her thus like this.  But Bitsy saw herself as a woman that was forced to hold a Book that she hated now more than ever before.  But was not a quick little kiss worth this long and difficult pose?  None of her tricks worked before on this stalwart man of God.  Maybe this one might turn out differently for her.  After a long while, he was done, and he showed her what she looked like in his eyes in his sketch. “I like it!” she said, somewhat in truth and somewhat in lie.

“I do, too, lots, Bitsy,” he said.

“What do you call this sketch, Proffery?  It does not have a title yet,” she said.

He began to write down the title to this sketch, and when he was done, he showed it to her.  She read the title, “Melons.”  And now she liked this sketch more.  The Bible did not feel so bad there now anymore.  And the temptress pursued her designs further, now with another new tactic against her saved and stubborn and proper boyfriend.

“Come into my house, and I will show you my closet, O Proffery,” she said.

“A closet, Bitsy?” he asked, curious.

“My bedroom closet,” she said.

“I never saw it, your bedroom closet,” he said.

“It is full of all of my real neat stuff, Proffery,” she said.

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“What kind of stuff is this stuff?” he asked.

“Oh, Mom and Dad call it my ‘menagerie,’” she said.

“A menagerie of what?” he asked.

“Well, I cannot keep my boyfriend from finding out about my dear menagerie any longer,” she said.  “Do come in and take a look and tell me what you think.”

And Bitsy led him to her beloved closet.  And she opened her closet door.  Lo, a whole closet all full with diverse and sundry long-sleeved women’s gymnastics leotards!  In overwhelming awe upon first seeing this, Proffery addressed the Lord in His name in borderline vanity of curse.

“Proffery!” exclaimed Miss Windemereshire, “did you just swear?”

“My my my,” he said, his heart and mind and body captivated by this great and bountiful collection in all of its colors and in all of its fabrics.

“These are all of my gymnastics leotards that I went and bought throughout my life, Proffery.” she said.

“These are all of your gymnastics leotards that you went and bought throughout your life, Bitsy,” she repeated after her.

“You probably thought that I had only this one,” she said, putting her hand to her belly, “my Lilia Podkopayeva one, Proffery.”

“This one on now is the only one I ever saw you in, girl,” he said.

“I guess that I play favorites with these,” she said.

He kept back his hands right now from touching her wondrous menagerie.  To his right was a rod full of these front to back all on hangers.  To his left was a rod full of these front to back all on hangers.  And in the back of this closet was a lone brass hook.  “What’s this for, this hook, Bitsy?

“Oh, the hook is for this one that I have on now, Proffery,” she said.  “There are those times that I have to take this one off.  So I take it off and hang it up on that hook.”

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“Neat, girl.  So very neat,” he said.

“Flanders, look at me,” she said.  “I can see that you cannot take your eyes off of my clothes in there.”

“I am looking to see which one is my favorite,” he said.

“There are a good hundred to choose from,” she bragged upon her menagerie.

“Neat, O Bitsy.  Really really neat,” he said.

Still he held back his hand from her gymnastics leotards.  “Don’t be shy, Proffery,” she said.  “You can go and touch my leotards. They won’t bite.  And I won’t bite.”

“Oo la la,” he said, “Woman, what you’ve got!”  And he began to shuffle his hands now throughout her hangers and their apparel.  She heard the sound of hangers knocking against hangers, and the sound pleased her, and the sound pleased him.

This went on for boyfriend and girlfriend for a good quarter of an hour.  Proffery was too excited to speak; Bitsy did not interrupt his most exciting moment by speaking.  Then he said, “I think that I found it now, Bitsy.  I found my favorite of your gymnastics leotards of this closet.”

“Which one is it?” she asked.

“It is this one that is all black except for its long sleeves that are all white,” he said.  Like a girl, he held it in its hanger up against his body and looked down upon himself.

“Ideas, Proffery,” she said.  “It looks like you are getting brand new ideas in your head.”

“Do you like this one, Bitsy?” he asked.

“It is the same kind of one that Kristi Powell wore when she won the America’s Cup of women’s gymnastics that year some time ago,” said Bitsy Windemereshire.

“Have you ever had it on, Bitsy?” he asked.

“Only when I first bought it,” she said.

“What does it feel like to have on this one?” he suddenly asked from out of nowhere.

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“Do you really want to know?” she asked.

“I need it,” he said passionately with a new spirit of drag coming upon him.

“Then take it!” she said in most glad consent.

And the man Proffery Coins shut the closet door between himself and herself and did go about his business.  And when he was done, he opened her closet door, and there he was—a transgender

woman gymnast in Bitsy’s leotard.  He now knew what a long-sleeved women’s gymnastics leotard felt to have on.  His whole body felt like aroused.  His whole head felt giddy.  His whole spirit felt freed.  His whole soul felt let loose.  And right away he came up to Bitsy, and he gave her a quick little kiss on the lips.

Her eyes grew big from this sudden surprise kiss.  If she were anticipating it, it certainly happened all at once right after he experimented with this strange odd drag.  And it was a most sweet kiss.  She liked it lots.  And she could tell in his big eyes that he had enjoyed it, also.

“What did I just go and do, Bitsy?” he asked.

“Boyfriend, you went and kissed me finally,” she said.

“I’m a different man now with this on,” he said.

“You are a new man now with that on,” she said.

“New man or new woman?” he asked.

“Whichever one you want to be for me tonight, Proffery,” she said.

“I never thought that I could wear my girlfriends’ leotards before,” he said.  “But one thing’s for sure.  I sure don’t want to take it off again.”

“Why, Proffery, you’re talking just like me,” she said, bonding with her boyfriend in a way she never could before.

“I can see why you never wear anything else, woman,” he said.

“They are quite comfortable,” she said.

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“They sure beat blue jeans and cotton shirt!” the new cross dresser did confess.

“Just remember, though, Proffery:  That gymnastics leotard is still mine,” she said.  “And I want it back when our date tonight is done.”

“I feel like kissing you again, Bitsy,” he said.  “This outfit of yours is making me a little bit amorous.”

“Am I more beautiful to you tonight, Proffery, now that we are both dressed alike?” she asked.

He went right ahead to kiss her on her lips again without replying with a word.  This second kiss was better for him than that first kiss.

“Wow!  Bitsy.  Now my whole body is excited,” he said.

“One good kiss deserves another good kiss, Proffery,” said Bitsy Shea Windemereshire.

And this time the woman went and kissed the man.  To Proffery, this third kiss was even more

stirring than that second kiss.

The young woman said, “This was the best kiss of the three.”

“These are getting more stimulating even than this gymnastics leotard, Bitsy,” he said.

“Shall we do a fourth and call it quits for the night?” she asked.

“Let’s have five for good measure,” he said.

“Shall we decide not to call it quits all night?” she asked.

“Do we dare kiss all night into tomorrow morning?” he asked.

And boyfriend and girlfriend had an idyll of kissing all the way to midnight.  And then they had enough.  They had kissed until they could kiss no more.  And it was time for Proffery to go back home.

And most grievously reluctantly the man took off the woman’s gymnastics leotard and put back on his conventional men’s clothes once again.  And just like that his fever for kissing his Bitsy was all gone

at once.  She, yet dressed in her own gymnastics leotard, wanted a good-night kiss from him.  But he did not, and he said, “No,” to her this time.  He suddenly seemed back to his old Christian ways now

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that he was wearing his masculine clothes again.

But she wanted to give him back something that he had always wanted with her that she had always turned him down from.  After all, did he not finally tonight give her what she had always most wanted from him?  She would do the same for him, and it would make his Jesus and him happy with her.  In short, her Christian boyfriend was always asking her to join him in Bible study.  Well, on their next date tomorrow, she would finally give in and join him in Bible study.  And Bitsy Windemereshire,

now okay finally with her boyfriend’s Bible, said, “I would like to join you in Bible study tomorrow,

Proffery.”

Of course a strange look came upon his face when he heard that come from his unsaved girlfriend for his first time.  But yet he said to her, “I discovered the magic of a kiss tonight; and now you want us to read the Scriptures instead?”  Wrong, after what had happened between them tonight, her Proffery was not at all back to his old Christian ways all over again, despite that one rejection of a “Good-bye” kiss.  Just now Proffery Rule Coins made it abundantly clear that he now no longer wanted to read the Word of God with his dear girlfriend..  It even sounded like he officially passed by reading the Bible for now on after having this wild night with her.  And now Bitsy felt no more like a conqueror and more like a vandal.  She had finally gotten what she had always wanted from him, but it seemed to have destroyed most of what he had been that was good and godly.  She had made him into an animal.

And he was no more her gentleman.  And now he discovered dressing up like a woman because of her.

“Oh, Proffery.  I am so sorry about tonight,” said Bitsy Windemereshire.

“Let us go out to my place tomorrow, and we can kiss in the barn,” he said.  “And bring along an extra leotard of yours.”

He picked up his drawer’s paper and pencils and turned to leave for the night, when Bitsy said, “Your Bible, Proffery.  You’re forgetting to bring your Bible back home with you.”

Without saying a praise for the Word of God and without thanking her for having reminded him

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yet here, Proffery Coins took it carelessly in his left hand and did leave with his sketch accouterments

in his right hand.  “Bye until tomorrow, Bitsy,” he said. “Thank you for everything tonight.”

“Bye until tomorrow, Proffery,” she said.  And she was alone now, and it was bedtime.  Tomorrow she could kiss him again.  And that made her glad.  And she felt better now.  That Proffery was quite the kisser for her.  Hopefully he found her to be quite the kisser for him.  And she was happy.

He arrived home a little before one o’clock in the morning.  It was bedtime for him.  But he would not go to bed tonight.  He had not finished his two drawings for the Lord yet this day.  And they were both great new ideas.  He went to his drawing desk, and there was his sketch of his King James

Bible’s fore edges all finished.  And beside it was his sketch of his King James Bible’s spine, unfinished and just started.  He felt obligated to finish his work for God before going to bed late tonight.  It should take only about one more hour.  And it had always been his fun of fun to draw for Christ.  He picked up his drawing pencil and thought for a while as to how to put down the next mark on the sketch paper.

But this time he did not feel like doing this.  Always before did Proffery feel like doing this—both right away and all through the work and all the way to completion.  But tonight—right away even—he did not feel that this was fun this time.  He felt guilty.  He felt like a bad person.  He felt convicted of all the sins that he had committed all at once tonight with his lost girlfriend.  He had kissed a woman.  And he had let a woman kiss him.  And now his heart was torn away from spiritual and scriptural things tonight right after all of that kissing had happened.  And his Bible sketches were not coming to him anymore as he held his pencil.  God was now taking away His hand of blessing from

Proffery Rule Coins.  And Proffery at first felt fear.  Whether it were the fear of the Lord or the fear of change in his life, the man Proffery did not want to find out.  But his life was changed now after what he and his girlfriend had done just now in her room.

It was time now to put down his pencil for God. And Proffery put down his Lord’s sketching

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pencil upon his desk top, took away his hand from this pencil, and put his hand to his mouth in uncertainty.  What now?  He thought to himself without turning to prayer with his query.  And he thought that he could still draw now if he for now on drew only for Bitsy.  He had always drawn sketches of his gymnast girlfriend before—even though they were not his regular drawings that he did for a living.  His drawing career had been sketches for and about Jesus.  But his drawing hobby had been his Bitsy drawings.  What if he could no longer draw for God for a living?  Could he not now draw for Bitsy for a living instead?  Surely there were other fans of women’s gymnastics who might buy his sketches of so beguiling Miss Windemereshire.  What Proffery Coins had to do right now tonight was to begin such a career change before going to bed—even if it meant not going to bed

tonight.  He would draw his most detailed sketch ever of his gymnast girlfriend.  It would be his chef

d’oeuvre of his whole collection. It would be worth thousands of dollars.  And Bitsy would look like a siren of Odysseus in her gymnastics leotard.  Men would want her.  And he could make her the world’s most desirable woman gymnast of all.  And she would be on the tabloids as “the world’s sexiest woman.”  And all of this would happen from his fantasies running through his heart right now after having kissed her all night.  And the artist picked back up his sketch pencil.  He did it this time for Bitsy.  And the first mark came most easily.  And the second mark came with equal facility.  And then came the third mark.  And neither Devil nor Lord hindered him as he began to draw this new genre of sketching for himself.  And he fell into a most carnal reverie as he drew Bitsy like he never drew Bitsy before.

And when he was done, the sun was coming back up for the morning.  And he looked at what he had drawn all last night.  And he was most well-pleased.  This was the sketch that he had drawn after his wild night at her place:  It was a side view of his woman gymnast.  She was doing a trick on the balance beam in a red and white and blue stars and stripes long-sleeved gymnastics leotard.  Her so-comely face was facing to the left.  She was resting upon the balance beam with her two bare legs

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straddling the beam where she was sitting.   Her arms were in front of her and holding onto the beam.

And her torso was leaning forward where she sat.  And with a subtle gesture in this drawing, the sketch

drew the eye of the one looking at this picture down toward her nether regions within this gymnastics leotard that lay directly upon the beam.  A man might be inclined to think that she was doing something naughty with herself on this balance beam.  And Proffery wrote the title, “The Trick on the Balance Beam.” on the top, and he went ahead to sign it at the bottom corner.  And it was finished.

Oh, Proffery, Proffery, it is written, “For we know him that hath said, Vengeance belongeth unto me, I will recompense, saith the Lord.  And again, The Lord shall judge his people.  It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.”  Hebrews 10:30-31.

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CHAPTER XV

Regal Sixpence was alone in his breezeway, reading a word’s definition in Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary.  This word was the letter “m”, and the following was the definition of “m”:  “1 a:  the thirteenth letter of the English alphabet  b: a graphic representation of this letter  c:  a speech counterpart of orthographic m  2:  one thousand—see number table  3:  a graphic device for reproducing the letter m  4:  one designated m esp. as the 13^th in order or class  5:  something shaped like the letter M  6  a:  EM 2  b: PICA 2”  Regal read out loud:  “2:  one thousand.”  This was what “M” meant for this mighty soul-winner for God—his pending one thousandth soul to win for Christ here in this most fruitful breezeway. He prayed once again to his Heavenly Father, “Dear Lord, let it be my

beautiful Redde!”  Soul M still awaited filling in on his Lamb’s Book of Life.  That was next.  But he had come upon a dry spell here in this breezeway lately, and nobody was coming now to get saved as searching souls had used to in here.  In fact Regal Royal Sixpence had not had a visitor here for a whole month.  And he wondered why he could not win souls anymore.  He asked God now, “Why don’t I have anybody coming here anymore, O Lord?”  But he knew.  God did not have to tell him.

But God told him anyway in thoughts from the Lord:  “My son, you are seeing a lost woman.”  Instead

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Regal Sixpence stole a glance at his Lamb’s book of life upon the card table and quickly turned away.

And he said to God, “And I like seeing my lost woman.”  And in that moment, Regal Royal Sixpence both grieved and quenched the Holy Spirit of God.  And God left this rebellious man alone with his destructive thoughts.  And Regal began to think how comforting now would be a hug from his girlfriend.  He could maybe put his arms around her upper torso, and she could wrap her arms around his chest, and they could stand there like that for a little while.  Surely that would be better than staying here in this breezeway, waiting for a searching soul to finally come here now that no one was coming anymore.  No, he was not angry with God.  But in his sin, he was disappointed with God.  And right now he felt discouragement like unto Elijah’s discouragement.  Elijah was discouraged because Queen Jezebel told him, “Elijah, you’re a dead man.”  And Elijah then prayed to God and said, “I have been very jealous for the Lord God of hosts:  because the children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thine altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword; and I, even I only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away.”  And Regal was discouraged because he was stuck on soul CMXCIX

on his little book of life and could not add any more, and he was discouraged because Redde Westminster had never been in this breezeway, and he was discouraged because he had a beautiful and

well-built girlfriend whom God would not let him embrace.  And he prayed to God now Who had left him to his sins:  “Dear Father, let me have some fun with my woman today.”  And either in folly or in faith, he then went right away to see Redde in hopes that God would answer his prayer.

There she was down in her basement, working on the punching bag with her red boxing gloves.

“Redde, you’re home,” he said.

“I am home, Regal,” she said.  “And I am glad that you are here.”

“I am glad that I am here, too, Redde,” he said.

“What brought you over?” she asked.

“I wanted to have some fun with you,” he said.

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“A hug would be a lot of fun for me, boyfriend,” she said.

“What you’re doing right now looks like fun, too, Redde,” he said.

“I’m sparring with a punching bag,” she said.

“Hey, maybe you could spar with me,” he said, getting new ideas.

“We did that last time in pretend,” she said.

“Well this time we can do that in real,” he said.

“I never slugged a cute guy before,” she said.

“And I never had a pretty girl sock me before,” he said.

“Would you really like to step into my ring with me?” she asked him, not sure of what might happen to him were she to work him over with her gloves.

“It sounds like lots and lots of fun for me,” he said.  “And maybe for you, too, Redde.”

“I never got to knock out my boyfriend in the ring before,” she said.

“I think that I would really like to find out what it is like—getting KO’ed by a woman,” he said.

“I don’t want to have to hurt you, Regal,” she said.  “But I warn you, if you do go ahead with this with me, I will treat you the same way I treat a woman in the ring against me.”

“I’m ready anyway, Redde,” he said.

“What convinced you to box with me like this all of a sudden, Regal?” she asked.

He sighed and said, “God told me that I can no longer win souls if I keep seeing you.”

“And here you are, seeing me, Regal,” she said.

“A guy needs to have some fun in his life,” said Regal Sixpence.  “If I can no longer have fun winning lost souls for Christ, then I will let loose and have all kinds of brand new fun with you, if you don’t mind, Redde.”

“Oh, I don’t mind!  Regal, we can have fun now without your Jesus coming between us,” she said.

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“Redde, are we saying, ‘Anything goes?’” he asked.

“Regal, we are saying, ‘Everything goes.’” she did say.

“A little boxing, a little embrace,” he said.

“A lot of boxing and a lot of embraces,” she said.

“Yes, O woman!” he said.

“Bring it on, Regal,” she said.  And she went and picked out a pair of red boxing gloves for him.

He put them on.  They got into the ring.  And Redde said, “Ding!” to imitate the bell to begin the prize fight battle of the sexes.

And the woman threw the first punch.  She hit him squarely in the jaw with a right cross as hard as she always hit any woman in the jaw.  His head did move a little, but he did not utter any grunt, and his eyes were unfazed.  Last time that she punched a woman there this hard, that woman’s eyes became disorientated for a moment.  But this guy did not even give away a flinch from her punch.  He swung a roundhouse left toward her temple, and she easily dodged his clumsy left glove.  Then she threw a stiff left jab into his own temple.  His head did move a little this time, too, but his countenance looked like his head did not hurt from her blow.  Every time that she had done this to a woman, the woman betrayed a grunt of pain, and her face showed pain in her head.  But this man did not say any word or any sound from her left jab.  Regal swung an awkward right roundhouse toward her nose, and she professionally evaded his glove.  Then she threw a jarring left uppercut up into his chin.  Again his head did move, a little jerking upward of his head, and his lower teeth did slam into his upper teeth, but

he smiled fondly at her, his man’s heart enjoying all of this, and his jaw not the worse from her glove.

When Redde threw such an uppercut into the jaw of any woman, that woman’s mouthpiece always fell out of her mouth, and that woman was almost out on her feet.  But this fellow made her uppercut look like it felt good to him.  He then threw a shot to her belly, and the professional woman prize fighter blocked his glove with her glove, and he missed again.  She then threw a left roundhouse hard right

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into his upper chest.  But he laughed in joy.  He must like getting punched by a woman’s boxing glove.

When Redde Westminster struck a woman foe like this, that woman foe always fell back against the ropes and that woman’s knees felt like buckling underneath herself where she stood.  But this man was only mildly hurting.  He swung his red boxing glove again toward her, aiming for her forehead.  She adeptly threw her head out of the way of his glove, and he missed her once again.  Then she threw a stiff jab into his own belly.  Whether she heard him grunt or not, she could not tell.  When she did this last time to a woman, that woman grunted out an “Ugh.”  And that adversary’s body bend over forward from the pain in her stomach. But her boyfriend Regal stayed there, standing up straight, his belly still

good and well.

Redde Steady Westminster, the professional woman prize fighter, was at a loss with this man in the ring against her.  She had given him her five best shots with her red boxing gloves, and he was all fresh and well-rested, and she was weary and fatigued.  She was wearing herself out by giving punishment, and this punishment was hardly at all punishing to this guy.  In one of her women’s boxing

bouts, she had won by a TKO in the first round after having given these exact five same shots to the girl.  But, maybe, getting into the ring against a man was different from getting into the ring against a woman.  God did make men and women different.  And she began to think that she was no match in the ring against her much stronger and noticeably bigger boyfriend.  Then she wondered what this special guy in her life might do to her now that they were in the boxing ring against each other.  She paused to look and to stare at his red boxing gloves.  His hand was bigger and stronger than her hand.  His arm was bigger and stronger than her arm.  His body was bigger and stronger than her body.  And his punch would be bigger and stronger than her punch.  When might it come?  What would it feel like?  What would happen to her?  Suddenly a great force pounded right into her forehead just above her eyes.

She thought that she saw something padded and red.  And it hit very hard.

Redde Westminster thought that she were falling right now.  Maybe.  Maybe not.   Her knees

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felt like they were buckling underneath herself where she had been standing.  She felt her back fall back against the ropes and lean there against the ropes.  She did not know whether she were lying on the canvas right now.  It was like she fell asleep.  But she could still see.  Maybe she was in a dream now.  Her head hurt.  But her mind felt good.  She could see Regal looking at her with a wonder in his expression.  She could see him looking at his red boxing gloves in great surprise.  She could feel her own boxing gloves still over her own hands, and she remembered that they were red, also.  Then he put his right arm around her, his right glove still on his right hand, and he gave her a half-hug where she was standing, out on her feet. Then he put his left around her, his left glove still on his left hand, and he completed his hug of her, out on her feet.  And Redde Steady Westminster got her first embrace from Regal Royal Sixpence.  And in her unconsciousness, she, her own gloves still on her own hands, embraced him right back.  And this hug lasted for her whole dream.  Then she woke up.  Coming to now, she saw her form in his arms in a real waking hug, as he held her up from falling where she was leaning back against the ropes of the ring.

“Regal, you’re hugging me now,” she sang out in great happiness.

“I didn’t think that you’d mind,” he said.

“What happened to me just now?” she said.  “My head is all dizzy and everything is spinning around.”

“I won our prize fight by a knockout,” he said.

“You knocked me unconscious in the ring?” she asked.  “Yes.  You did.  That must have been what hit me back there.”

“I think that you are all right now,” he said.

“I’ve been boxing all my life, and this was the first time anybody KO’ed me like that in the ring, Regal,” she said.

“You were out like a light,” he said.

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“I feel kind of embarrassed about that happening to me this time,” she said.

“Your eyes were closed,” he said.

“And all it took was one punch,” she said.

“You’re remembering now,” he said.

“I dreamed that you were hugging me,” she said.  “And when I woke up, you were still hugging me.”

“I was hugging you the whole time you were there,” he said.

“I am so happy now,” she said.

“Are you happy because of our first embrace?” he asked.

“A girl does not need to be conscious to still enjoy a man’s embrace. O Regal,” she said.  “Yes, I am happy that you finally hugged me—even though I did not know it.”

“It was fun for me, too, Redde,” he did say.

Then, her senses coming back to her strong and steady once again, Miss Westminster said, “Let us go out tomorrow on our date and go to a place in the country and have a prayer meeting out there between us—you and I alone, praying out loud to your God.”

“You mean a boyfriend-girlfriend prayer meeting?” he asked.

“That’s the least that I can do for you after all you did for me, with that great big hug and all you gave me,” she said.

Yet this prayer-warrior hesitated to reply.  He loved prayer so very much.  He never missed a prayer meeting at his Baptist church.  And he always quoted I Thessalonians 5: 17 to her so much that she knew how it went:  “Pray without ceasing.”

“Regal, you’re not saying, “Yes,” to praying,” she said.

“The Bible says that God hears the prayers only of the saved.  He hears not the prayers of the unsaved.  You are one of the unsaved.  He will not hear you were we to pray together in a boyfriend-

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girlfriend prayer meeting,” said Regal Sixpence.  Then he said, “We cannot pray on our date tomorrow.”

“Then what do you want to do on our date tomorrow?” she asked.

“The same thing we did today in the ring after the bout,” he said.

“Embrace!” she said.

“Let’s think about the rest of our date down here and keep doing what we are doing,” he said.

He began to take off his boxing gloves to make easier these solicited embraces.  Eagerly and impatiently did Redde also take off her boxing gloves for a night of embraces.

And the two let loose all restraints, and they hugged over and over again for over an hour until they were all hugged out for the night.  And finally they were done for the date.  And they both could not wait until tomorrow to do it all over again.

“This time we can do that outside,” he said about tomorrow’s date.

“Someone might see us,” she said.

“God will see us,” he said.

“God saw us down in here,” she said.

“A date tomorrow in your backyard at sunrise, Redde?” he asked.

“I’ll be waiting for you, Regal,” she said.

“Bring your arms,” he teased her.

“I’ll bring my body,” she teased right back.

And he left her basement and came back home for the night.  And he entered his house this time by first coming into his breezeway.  Once in here, he suddenly felt convicted of his many sins of embraces today.  And he sat down before his card table, but would not pray and confess and forsake these many sins before God—even in this room of the Presence of God Himself.  Nine hundred ninety-nine souls got rescued from a future of Hell in this room, and the messenger from Heaven whom God

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had used to do this would now only think about his next embrace with the girl.  And the Devil began to talk to him in his rebellion now against God.  And these were the thoughts that the great tempter did put into the heart of this now carnal believer:  “Regal, the girl you hugged…she is the only soul that counts out there.  No other soul means anything.  You cannot embrace them.  And she needs to get saved right away.  And I will tell you why.”  And Regal was told why by the accuser of the brethren Satan:

Right now, as it stood, Regal was going to Heaven, and Redde was going to Hell.  And with these great antitheses of afterlives, Regal only had the rest of this life to hug her.  But he wanted to hug her for eternity.  Were he to die, he would go to Heaven, and she would still be down here, and he could never hug her again.   Were she to die, she would go to Hell, and he would still be down here, and he could never hug her again.  Were they both to die at the same time, he would be Up in Heaven, and she would be down in Hell, and they would never hug again.  And what if the rapture took place?  He would got to Heaven without dying, and she would be left behind to face Earth’s darkest hour.  And they would never hug again.  Further, if the rapture did happen in their lifetime, she would never be able to get saved in this Earth’s darkest hour after, because God’s Word said that if she had heard the Gospel message in this life before the rapture, then after the rapture her mind would be sealed with blindness and she would not be able to get saved anymore.  And she would be doomed to a future in Hell.  And many times had Regal shared the Gospel with his lost girlfriend.  And that meant that in

these seven years of earth’s darkest hour, he would be in Heaven, and she would be down here in the tribulation, and they could not hug anymore.  And then when Christ came back in the Second Coming and set up His Millennial Reign on Earth after the seven years of tribulation ended,  Regal would be down here on a glorified Earth, and Redde would be cast into Hell.  And they could never hug again.

But not only that, most likely Redde would perish in this tribulation period before the Thousand-Year Reign of Christ began, and she would go to Hell.  And Regal and Redde would never hug again.

Everything that Satan told this wayward Christian was Bible truth.  But he said it all to him with

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a barrage of fiery darts and flaming arrows.  And these darts and these arrows all told him that the only

reason there was to get Redde Westminster saved was so that Regal Sixpence could put his arms around her again.  And though a more spiritual Christian would have used these words as a catalyst to go and tell the girl about the Saviour again, for the eternal good of her soul and for the glory of the Saviour, the backslidden Regal Sixpence instead began to feel sorry for himself for all the wrong reasons, and he refused to try again to tell Redde about the Saviour and His love.  Instead he said to God now in prayer in this most holy breezeway,”I guess that I have only this life down here to hug my girl.”  And he secretly decided in his heart to not go knocking on doors on Thursday Evening Visitation with the men of the church anymore.  But God saw what was in his heart.  And he secretly decided in his heart to quit  giving out salvation tracts anymore.  But God saw what was in his heart.  And he secretly decided in his heart to close up this breezeway as a place of salvation.  But God saw what was in his heart.

And he most overtly said with his tongue to God, “Make Redde my Soul M on my list.”  And God heard what he said with his tongue.  And in great swelling pride of rebellion as of Lucifer, Regal hissed incoherently between his closed teeth at God, “Or else!”  And God heard what he had snarled between his teeth in diabolical ultimatum.

Beware, O Regal Royal Sixpence. It is written, “Thou shalt be visited of the Lord of hosts with thunder, and with earthquake, and great noise, with storm and tempest, and the flame of devouring fire.”  Isaiah 29:6.  Again it is written, “And the Lord shall cause his glorious voice to be heard, and shall shew the lighting down of his arm, with the indignation of his anger, and with the flame of a devouring fire, with scattering, and tempest, and hailstones.”  Isaiah 30:30.

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CHAPTER XVI

Aphrodite and Stables were playing their favorite game together—their game of Mousquetaire.

And once again the unicorn was winning by dint of his great horn.  One after another his mistress picked out a nice little rod and swung it.  And he swung back and broke it into two.

“Do you give up, my mistress?” asked Stables.

“No.  I don’t, Stables,” she said.  “Do you give up?”

“No, I do not, Mistress,” said Stables.  And they continued their rough and tough mistress-and-unicorn game.  The sound of horn hitting and breaking wood was a melody in Aphrodite’s ears.  And she and Stables were happy playing together.

Then her unicorn said to her, “I know what you did the other day, O mistress,”

“Word got out,” she said.

“He went and stroked your hair,” said Stables.

“I stroked his hair, too,” said Aphrodite Tea.

“Not just one time each of you,” said her unicorn.

“No, good Stables,” said Aphrodite.  “Far more times than just one time,”  And she giggled.

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“He’s a different man now,” said the unicorn.

They continued this Mousquetaire game, horn against rod.

“Yeah!  He finally quit preaching at me,” she said.

“Are you glad for that?” asked her unicorn pet.

“Yeah, Stables!” she said.  “A girl does not like to hear her boyfriend talking about Jesus all the time like he did.”

“He’s not the same since your wild night together with him, my mistress,” said Stables.

“I taught Flanders how to have fun in life,” she said.

“Are you saying that you made your boyfriend fun?” he asked.

“Yes, Stables,” she said.  “We will keep stroking each other’s hair until all of our hair falls out.

Ha ha ha!”

“But if Flanders is having so much fun in his new life now, why is he so sad nowadays, Mistress?” asked her pet unicorn.

“i don’t know,” she said.

“I think that he misses Jesus,” said Stables.

“Flanders told me, Stables, that Jesus left him,” said Aphrodite.  “What can he do?”

“Mistress, it is Flanders who left Jesus,” said the wise unicorn.  “And he can do something to come back to Him.”

“Why, I hope that Flanders never come back to Him,” exclaimed Aphrodite.

“My Mistress, Jesus is Good,” said the good unicorn.

“Would a good God keep me waiting all of my life for my boyfriend to finally get around to making out with my hair?” asked Aphrodite.  “I say that my hair is beautiful, and Flanders says that my hair is beautiful.  I am twenty-five years old, and finally I get my man to stroke my hair.”

“Your hair is more important to you than is the Lord Jesus,” said Stables.

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“Uh huh, Stables,” she readily confessed.

“That means that your hair is a false god,” he said.

“What about Flanders, then, Stables?  He likes my hair now better than he likes Jesus, too,” she said.

“Your brown hair, Mistress, has become to him now also his false idol,” proclaimed Stables.

“A girl just wants to have fun,” she said.  “What can be bad about having lots of fun?”

“In God’s eyes, there is the Devil’s kind of fun, and there is the Lord’s kind of fun,” said Stables.

They continued their wild and aggressive game of Mousquetaire.                                                 “It is not that we go and do immorality, Stables,” she said, on the defensive.  “We are not doing bad things like fornication or adultery, you know.”

“If stroking a lost girlfriend’s hair is not all that bad, Mistress, look at what happened to your boyfriend’s ministry for God,” said Stables.

“He does not write Christian stories and Christian novels anymore, Stables,” she said.

“No.  Now he writes romance stories.  And soon he will write a romance novel about you, Mistress,” said her pet unicorn.

“Romance stories are not bad stories if it be Flanders who writes them, though,” said Aphrodite.

“Oh, but Mistress, no woman or man ever got saved reading a typical romance story out there,” said wise Stables.

And she said again,  “A gal wants to have fun.”  Then she said, “A guy wants to have fun.”

Then she said, “I cannot wait to read all of his new stories for now on.  I did not care at all for his old stories.”

“My mistress, I am trying to help you and Flanders, but you are not hearing what I am trying to tell you,” said Stables.

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Rod and horn continued colliding into each other in this risky little game of Mousquetaire.

“I want us to quit talking about Flanders,” she said.  “Today, he is coming over for another date of stroking of hair.  And nothing is going to keep me and Flanders from doing that—not even you, O Stables.”

“Flanders is not happy, Mistress,” said the unicorn.

“Then he can go and suck an egg!” she said, angry.

“The Lord God is not happy, Mistress,” said the unicorn.

“Then He can go and suck an egg!” she said, furious.

Suddenly in the midst of swinging of rod and swinging of unicorn horn, Aphrodite Tea and Stables had a terrible accident.   The unicorn horn in swinging from left to right missed the swinging rod and tore across the front of the woman’s neck from her right to her left!  Her neck was gashed

just above her throat!  Her eyes grew big in shock, and she fell down upon her knees, and she put both hands upon her neck, and she bled profusely where she knelt.

In shock himself at what he had just done to his beloved mistress, the unicorn Stables fell down upon his belly, and did lie there, and did almost faint in his head where he lay.

God had smitten Aphrodite for what she had done to Flanders in that first stroking of his upon her long brown hair.  Was she going to die now?  The bleeding was so bad.  The pain was so bad.  The fear was so bad.

“I am sorry, O wonderful Mistress,” said the faint loyal unicorn.

Rallying her strength, she whispered hoarsely, “Go and get Flanders here.”

And he rallied his strength and flew off from his mistress to go and bring Flanders here.

Bitsy Shea Windemereshire was alone in her backyard, looking into her pond, admiring her face that was kissed by her boyfriend the other day.  As pretty as her face was to herself and to himself, all

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the more pretty were all of their kisses to herself and to himself.  As she thought now with herself alone back here, she said to herself, “It took a few years, but I finally taught Proffery what a guy needs to do with a pretty face for his girlfriend.”  A pretty face deserved a kiss from a boyfriend.

She paused now and pondered what Proffery was like now after that first such date with his new self suddenly coming around for her like it did.  The very next day he had come over to show her “The world’s greatest sketch,” as he called it.  He could not stop talking about it.  But she was not so sure that she liked it.  It kind of made her look dirty.  She did not like yourself on the balance beam the way he had drawn her on the balance beam.  She would have preferred another kissing scene on the balance beam.  But they still went on and kissed after he stopped talking all about the sketch.  And when that date ended, he promised to draw for her another kissing scene on the balance beam.

And she asked for sketches of kissing scenes on the vault and the uneven parallel bars and on the floor routine, in addition,  and he agreed, his heart most animated with ardor for his gymnast girlfriend.

As she stood there alone, she contemplated the new Proffery that she had turned him into.  When he used to only talk about God and the Bible, now all he talked about was herself and himself.

His praises to her for her gymnastics leotards now became praises for her body within those gymnastics leotards.  And he kept asking her permission to put one of her gymnastics leotards on for himself, but she would not let him do that anymore.  He made a god out of her bedroom closet, and he was in there all the time, rummaging around throughout her bountiful menagerie in there.  He said one time in her closet to her, “If I could but touch one of these, I shall be complete.”  He told her one time that in the Bible, a woman had said to herself, “If I may but touch His garment, I shall be whole.”  That was about the time when a bleeding woman touched Jesus’s robe, and her bleeding stopped, and she was made well.  And, as Bitsy Windemereshire thought upon this woman’s words and upon Proffery’s words, what Proffery Coins had said in her closet now sounded like blasphemy to the lost young gymnastic

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woman.

But that Proffery sure knew how to kiss a gal—even that very first time.  And she thought that she had gotten it right also herself, though not at first, as she thought.  And each successive kiss was better than the one before it.  All of those kisses turned her female body into a most pleasant delirium.

And remembering that night now alone at her pond, Bitsy felt her female form once again fall into a pleasurable heat.  And Bitsy Windemereshire had to kiss Proffery Coins again.  But Proffery had told her that today he was going to be packing up his sketches for God and storing them in storage bins.  He

had said to her that this was how he would say, “Good-bye” to his career and ministry and former sketching life.  What a time to do something like that!  Right now they should be together right here and doing their new thing together right here.  But he was there at home, still lingering in his tired old drawing room, and leaving a genre of drawing that she had never understand why he had held on to for so long.  “It’s not fair that he is still with You, God, in that dumb room!” she complained to God.  “Even when I finally free him from You, he still comes back to You for one last hurrah!’’

A sudden cold wind came upon her from the north, a strange wind that did not make sense here at this time of year.  A suspicion in her mind told her that this was a warning from God.

But Bitsy was becoming angry with the God Who once again stole her boyfriend away from her when she decided that she wanted to see him now.  And she raised her fist up toward God and said, “This is for you, Lord!”  Suddenly a lightning bolt came from out of nowhere in the midst of the clear blue sky and struck the pond that lay just before her feet.  And the pond lit up with the force of mighty static electricity.  And then the pond turned benign again.

Enraged into madness at the God of warning and second chances, Bitsy Windemereshire most

irreverently swung her fist into the air before her, hoping to strike this God of the lightning, and she to

the Almighty, “As Your crucifiers had done to You, so wish I now to do to You again!”

And Jesus Christ the Lord had enough.  And He sent a full-grown male tiger after her from

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across the pond.  She first heard the intimidating roar of the tiger.  She second saw the great predator

standing there on the other side and looking at her with hunger in his eyes.  And she third saw this great

and deadly beast begin to stalk her, his great tiger paws treading the earth beneath his feet around the side of this pond on his way toward her.

And the girl screamed and ran as fast as she could away from the pond and that great feline hunter.  Never before was Miss Windemereshire so frightened in her twenty-five years.  And very quickly could this young woman hear the treading of tiger paws coming imminently upon her and feel the warm breath of tiger exhalations warming up her back.  “Help me, Mane!” cried out the rebellious lost young woman.  “Help me, Mane!”

And God sent Mane.

Behold, a hundred feet away just up ahead, there was her so-wonderful and terrific Mane running toward her to rescue her.  Just then a horrific and excruciating scraping swiped across her whole back as she ran.  This never happened to Bitsy before, but she knew what it was.  She had just been mauled by a tiger’s paw.  And she fell away into a faint and fell face down, semi-conscious and in great shock.  And as she lay there, her back bled all over her gymnastics leotard.

Mane assaulted the tiger with the ferocity of a pet scorned.  No creature—human or animal—had ever wounded his mistress like this before.  And he fought this tiger for the cause of his Bitsy.

And the lion prevailed over the tiger in this great fight between two big cats.  And he slew this tiger

for having maimed his beloved Bitsy.  And this tiger lay there dead.  God had mercy upon so disrespectful Miss Windemereshire.

In great pain as she lay there, Bitsy said, “I am sorry, Mane.”

He said, “Say ‘I’m sorry,’ to God, Mistress,” he told her.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.  Mane could not tell whether she were saying this to him again or to   God once.

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“Are you apologizing to me, Mistress, or to the Good Lord?” he asked her.

“My gymnastics leotard that I have worn every day for all of these years, Mane,” she said.

“How is it?”

He saw the whole back of her beloved apparel all torn up with great rips, and he saw her own blood flowing into her leotard’s reds and whites and blues most sickeningly.  “My mistress, it is ruined,” he said.

“Go get Proffery, please, Mane,” she said feebly.

“I shall at once, my Mistress,” he said.

“And Mane,…,” she said.

“Yes, Mistress?” he asked.

“Thanks for rescuing me,” she said.

“Thank God,” he said.

“Thank You, God,” she said.  And she passed out where she lay prone.  And her lion ran to go and bring her boyfriend here to be with her.

Mistress and lion knew that God had struck her thus because of that first kiss that she had enticed the believer Proffery with on that wild fling of date that day of recent.

Redde Westminster and her griffin pet were playing their game in the sky called “Roller Coasters” again.  The two gamesters had always done this risky game in the light of day before.  But this time the mistress demanded that he play with her this game in the dark of night instead.  Battles said, “This is not safe to play in the night, my Mistress.”

But his mistress had the final say, being his owner, and she said, “We will play Roller Coasters in the sky of night this time for our first time, Battles.”  And he was forced to play along with her.

And right now, with her holding on to his neck, he was giving her all the twists and turns and

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loops of a roller coaster way high up in the firmament of the pitch dark of night—only without the lights of a roller coaster of nighttime in a theme park.  “Dear Mistress, I implore you,” he urged her.  “Do hold on tighter!”

“Don’t worry about me, Battles,” she scolded him.  “Nothing ever happened to me before in our games.”

And he said, “I heard what you and Regal did the other night.”

“We embraced, O Battles,” she sang out.  “It was the most romantic thing we ever did on our dates before!”

“He’s always hugging you now, ever since that one night in your boxing ring, Mistress,” he said.

“He’s a more affectionate boyfriend now,” said the very glad Miss Westminster.

“But now he is no longer a spiritual boyfriend,  it seems to me,” said Battles.

“A woman cannot embrace a spiritual boyfriend, Battles,” she said.  “A woman can only embrace an affectionate boyfriend.”

“Do you not mean ‘a loose boyfriend,’ my mistress?” asked her griffin.

“My boyfriend has not become loose just because he hugs me all the time now, Battles,” she said.

“What about you?’ he asked her point-blank.

“Nor am I a loose girlfriend because of how I changed him,” said Redde Westminster.

“He quick hugging his mother and father, I heard,” said the pet griffin.

“That he did tell me,” she bragged on herself.  “I am the only person in the world for now on who is good enough for him to put his arms around, O Battles.  How this woman boxer has conquered her handsome boyfriend!”

“You lost to him in the ring that night; then he ended up losing to you in that same ring right

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after on that same night, my mistress,” said the wise griffin in an instructive play on words.

“He lost nothing, Battles!” she scolded him.

“Good Regal has lost his Christian burden for lost souls, Mistress!” said the knowing griffin.

“Oh, but you’re wrong,” said Redde.  “Regal still cares about my soul.  He prays that I can be his Soul M on his list of saved souls.  My Christian boyfriend has a great burden for my soul.”

“Your soul has become the only soul that that backslidden believer cares about anymore,” said

the godly griffin here way up in the sky of night.

“That’s because he stopped trying to make God happy and started trying to make me happy,” said Redde Westminster.

“You mean, ‘That’s because he gave in to your temptations and disobeyed the Good Lord and experimented with you with hugs and embraces,’” said her wise griffin.

“The way handsome Regal hugged me that night is a far cry from experimental,” she said.  “And those were his first tries.”  Griffin and mistress both conceded that that night with Regal, that was the first time he had ever hugged a pretty girl.

“The Good Lord saw you and him in those embraces that night, and He was sad for Regal,” said the griffin to his unsaved mistress.

“Was God sad for me, too, Battles?” asked Redde.

“God expects you to live a life of sin.  You are not a Christian.  But God does not expect Regal to live a life of sin.  He is a Christian,” taught Battles.

“Are you saying that God loves him more than He does me?’ asked Miss Westminster.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Battles.  “He is a child of God; and you are a child of Satan.”

“I do not see God striking the two of us dead, if what we do now in all of our hugging is so bad to Him,” said the rider of the griffin in their game tonight in challenge to both God and griffin.

“Do not tempt God, O lady,” warned Battles, this time not addressing her as “mistress.”  “God

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spanks His children when they go astray.  He does not spank the Devil’s children.  But He is still the Almighty Who can smite any man or woman—saved or lost—when He so chooses.  I say again unto you, ‘Please do not tempt the Lord,’ O foolish and vain mistress of mine.”

And in brazen contempt of all that is God and Good and Great, Redde Steady Westminster went on to say, “No griffin or person or Almighty can tell me to stop hugging my boyfriend!  And that means especially God Himself!”

Behold, her arms slipped away from the secure neck of steady and faithful Battles in this game of this night!  She was falling!  And she was no longer on the back of her sure griffin.  And he was not here for her when she needed him!  He was up there above somewhere in the dark of night.  And she was falling down to the ground somewhere in the dark of night.  The woman who just now yelled at God was now falling down to her death!  This Almighty Whom she had just tempted beyond His patience was now smiting her, and she now knew that she was the one who was wrong.  And this Lord who was striking her dead now as she fell was the one Who was right.

All of this happened in her head in these few seconds of this fall in the night.  Suddenly she felt a strong physical body come up to her from below.  “Mistress!  Mistress!  Mistress!” she did hear it speak.

“Battles!  O Battles!” she said.  He had swooped down beneath her as soon as she had fallen off of him, and he caught her most artfully back upon his back.

Once again and all at once Redde Steady Westminster was back again on the safe back of her griffin.  His eagle eyes saw her in the dark, and his lion strength caught her in her fall.  She was alive!

“Oh, Battles.  Thank you.  Thank you,” she said.  “I praise You, O Good God!” she then said

up to Heaven.

“I almost lost you, dear Mistress,” cried out Battles.

“I was a goner,” she said.  “But God had mercy on me.”

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“God is the God of second chances,” said Battles.

“And in my case, third and fourth chances…and so on,” she confessed.

“The Lord must have taken away His hand of blessing upon you when you slipped off of my back way up there,” said her griffin.

“He must have struck me for having enticed good and proper Regal into his first hug,” she confessed.

“Shall I take you down now, Mistress?” asked her griffin.

“Yes.  Please take me back down to solid ground again, good Battles,” she said.  “I want to be standing upon ground again right now.”

And he took her down, lighted upon the earth, and lowered his back for her.  She dismounted, stepped out upon the ground, and said “I live yet!”

“You yet live, Mistress,” said her griffin.

And she said, “Could you go and get Regal for me right now?  I am still scared.  And I need to talk to him now.”

“I shall, Mistress,” said the griffin.  And he took off in flight to go and find her boyfriend and to bring him to her.

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CHAPTER XVII

There stood Flanders and Stables, both looking upon her with cares in their eyes.  Aphrodite, lying there supine from the great wound in her neck, rallied her strength and said, “I am so glad to see you, Flanders.”  God must have sent him here.

He knelt beside her and said in great vexation of sorrow, “I am sorry, Aphrodite.  What happened to you today was my fault.”

“My neck hurts all across the front,” she said in a whisper of voice.

“That should have been my neck that got gashed,” he said.  “Aphrodite!  Aphrodite!”

She tried to speak again, but could not.  “Do not try to speak right now, Mistress,” said Stables.

“Flanders, what can we do?”

And Flanders Nickels tore off his shirt and wrapped it tightly around Aphrodite’s bleeding neck.

Aphrodite cried as he did this.  So, too, did he.  But the bleeding began to stop.  And man and woman and unicorn had hope now.

After a long somber moment of eerie quiet among the three of them, the bleeding completely stopped.  And Flanders Nickels now said to her, “Aphrodite, I came today to say, ‘Good-bye.’”

She looked to him, to her unicorn, and back to him.

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“You already knew,” Flanders said in understanding.

She then looked to her unicorn, to her boyfriend, and back to her unicorn.

“What are you saying?” Flanders asked in lack of understanding.

And her unicorn Stables told him, “She is saying that she wants to get saved today, before you go away, O Flanders.”

Aphrodite Dea Tea had never before asked to get saved.

Flanders looked at girlfriend and unicorn.  His girlfriend’s eyes said in this silence, “I need Jesus.”  And his girlfriend’s unicorn’s eyes said in this quiet, “My mistress means it, Flanders.”

Then mistress and unicorn communicated again in expressions to each other.  And Stables said, “Flanders, your girlfriend wants to hear first how you found Jesus.”

All of these good things happening so fast right now all of a sudden at first overwhelmed Flanders with doubts of his lost girlfriend of these many years.  This night was all of a sudden becoming for him an even better night than that night of stroking her hair.  Her soul was the only thing more beautiful about her than her hair.  What if she were just buying time on this last date to keep him with her a little bit longer in his life of unequal yoke?  In short, what she had just communicated to Stables to tell him was the last thing that he ever thought that she would say to him.  Aphrodite, wanting to hear him tell the testimony of his own salvation, and then letting him to lead her to her own salvation right after that?  Christ did say in the gospels that works greater than His miracles of healing and casting out devils, His people would do.  Surely Christ must have been talking about saved people leading unsaved people to Him as Saviour.  And here was his time to lead even Aphrodite to salvation.

He asked, “Aphrodite, do you want to get born again this day—really?”

Aphrodite rallied her voice and said in one auditory word “Yes.”

And Flanders Arckery Nickels now began his final work upon the soul of the only girl he could call in life, “my girlfriend”:

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He told her how he had first become a born-again Christian:  “I was with my teenage friends, all of us lost in our sins, and we were riding around the countryside on our bicycles, and we were looking to do mischief.  We called it, ‘action.’  Our parents would have called it, ‘trouble.’  And we came upon Brookside Drive in our countryside adventure for the day.  That country road runs north and south, and it is just a few miles south of Pulaski, Wisconsin.  I knew this Brookside Drive the best of anybody in our little riding group of the day, and I said, “There are lots of things to do here on this road.”  And they made me the leader of our adventure.  And I came up with all of our ideas for us to do.  First we went to the Pittsfield Dump, and we found it closed for the day.  We young men decided to make it open for us right now.  And we trespassed and began to pull out of the pit all manner of appliances, large and small, and we piled them up into a big heap just at the edge of the pit.  And then we left the dump.

Next we went to the clay-pigeon shooting range.  There was no skeet-shooting game going on right then, so we decided to play our own game with clay pigeons on this range.  And we went around and gathered all the broken pieces of clay pigeons that we could find—mainly the big pieces and the ones that were whole and yet intact that were lying around.  And then we began to throw them into the brick wall of the building, thus breaking them up into hundreds of red clay fragments and white clay fragments on the ground right in front of the building.  And we were laughing like little boys, even though we were big boys.  Then we went to an abandoned silo off down a little sandy road that led off from Brookside Drive.  I called it ‘the lone silo.’  It was no longer used.  We played our next game of the day right there.  I walked right into this lone silo, and I at once climbed up the metal bars inside right to the top, and I climbed out and sat down upon the roof outside.  I looked down from above and saw all of the others still down there at the foot of the silo, and they were all looking up at me. ‘Come on, guys!  To the top!’ I said to them.  And they all climbed up that interior ladder to this exterior little roof where I was waiting for them.  And we were all bunched together upon this slanted concrete foundation of roof.  I myself had the safest place up here—sitting upon a flat surface that was a roof to

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a little cubbyhole of an open window way here at the top.  In jest I said then, ‘Let’s all play “King on the mountain.”’  And we all laughed.  Then I had us all see how far over the edge of this silo we could lean without falling off of the silo.  And none of us fell.  Then I climbed back down the silo ladder inside, and all of my friends followed after me.  And we ran out of the silo and raced away on our bicycles for more of our fun to pursue.  And we found it at the top of the steep hill of Brookside Drive.

Off to the side of the road, underneath the bright noontime sun, was a huge leaf pile with a rake next to it.  Was there someone in there somewhere whom we might find were we to jump in?  Or was it now all for ourselves?  They hesitated.  I did not.  And I jumped into the leaf pile, and no one else was in there.

Then they all followed suit.  And we scattered that leaf pile in a most fun gambol until it was all spread out and flat upon the ground.  We had wrecked someone’s hard work.  Then, as we left, I picked up that  rake with a laugh and tossed it into the remains of the former pile of leaves.  And we pursued more of our fun for the day.”

He continued, “Now on Brookside Drive, there are three little bridges—one in the sunlight and two in the woods.  The two in the woods were the ones that I knew about.  The one closer to County Trunk U was usually a dry creek bed unless it were the time of the spring thaw.  And the one farther from County Trunk U had flowing water all year long.  This was the Suamico River.  That one that flowed all year long was the one that I led our band of mischief-makers to next on our summer spree.

Once there I said, “Last one in is a rotten egg!”  And we all raced down the steep bank in the woods to be the first one whose feet leaped into the shallow little creek.  I, of course, was first.  And then I waded out into the cavernous underside of this bridge, where the flowing water was particularly shallow.  “Come in,” I told them, and my two-words echoed here amid all this concrete. And they all came in, and we began to stamp our feet upon the concrete bed of this part of the creek, splashing our selves and each other with this water only about three inches deep down here under the bridge.  One of my buddies then said, ‘Flanders, what if there is a troll on this bridge?’  And I said, ‘The troll is the one

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under the bridge.’  Another one of us said, ‘The goat is the one who is on the bridge.’  Another one of us said, ‘Billy Goat’s Gruff!’  And another said, ‘Fairy Tale.’  Another said, ‘Grimm’s fairy tale.’  And another one of us said, ‘Hans Christian Anderson’s fairy tale.’  Another of us said, ‘Both the Grimm’s brothers and Hans Christian Anderson.’  Another of us said, ‘Neither the Grimm’s Brothers nor Hans Christian Anderson.’  And another of us said, ‘Either the Grimm’s Brothers or Hans Christian Anderson.’  Then I capped off this nonsense talk and said, ‘But which one of us is the troll?’

Suddenly a strange new voice called down from above, saying, ‘It is I.’   We all ran out from underneath the bridge out onto the side and did look up.  Behold, a real troll up there, leaning on the railing up there, and looking down right at us.  He was repugnant and noisome and truly a creature of a guy.  He was no taller than a dwarf, and his eyes squinted, and his hair was wild and uncombed, and he was greenish-blue in complexion. At first he looked like someone that we young men could laugh at.  But he spoke to us and said, ‘Where will you young men be one hundred years from now?’  And we knew that this was not a man to laugh at.  Such a question as this we had never heard before.  And at once this little troll man had our attention.  He had something to say to us, and we needed to listen to him now.  And we foolish boys knew to take this troll seriously.  And without any delay, this little troll of a man began to hop down toward us the same route that we had taken.  And once with us, he did also put his feet into the water, as ours were right then.  And he talked to us about Christ Jesus.  ‘Lads, one hundred years from now all of you will no longer be here.’  Then he said, ‘But there is life after death.

Some people call it “the afterlife”; some people call it “the hereafter”; the Bible calls it “eternity.”  For the redeemed it is “glory”; for the unredeemed it is “doom.”  You young men heard of it as “Heaven” and “Hell.”’

I spoke up and said, ‘I thought that I would end up just six feet under, sir, when I die.’

But he quickly said, ‘That’s only for animals and plants, young man.  But people are made by our Creator in His image.  That means that all humans each have an eternal soul.  And because you

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young men have souls, you shall live as long as God does—either in Heaven or in Hell for forever.’

I then said, ‘I wish that I could live a thousand years.’ I did not understand all that this troll was teaching us.

‘Young fellow, even Methuselah did not live for a thousand years;  before the Great Flood came he died and went to his forever after,” said this troll.  “He lived to age 969.’

I then said something stupid again, saying, ‘I wish that I could live to age 969.’

‘Silly boy,’ he went on to tell me, ‘in James 4:14, God does say, “…For what is your life?  It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.”’  Then he said to me, ‘Jared lived to be 962 years old.  Noah lived to be 950 years old.  Adam lived to be 930 years old.  Seth lived to be 912 years old.  Cainan lived to be 910 years old.  Enos lived to be 905 years old.  Mahalaleel lived to be 895 years old.  And Lamech lived to be 777 years old.’  Then the troll said, “Boys, these ancient men of antediluvian days, have all been dead for a lot longer than they had been alive.’The questions I have for you about these history’s oldest men are, “Where are they now?  Where will they be for the next thousand years?  Where will they be for forever after?”’

‘They are either down in Hell, or they are up in Heaven.  Aren’t they?’  I asked the preacher troll.

“Yes, my son,” said the troll.

‘And everybody goes either down to Hell or up to Heaven.  Don’t they?’ I asked him.

‘You are learning, lad,’ said the troll.

‘And I myself am going to Hell or to Heaven.  For ever,’ I asked him, knowing the answer.

‘You understand now, wise boy,’ said the troll.

Just then all of my friends said to me, ‘Let’s get out of here, Flanders.  The troll is crazy.’

I turned to them and said, ‘He’s not crazy.  He’s telling the truth.’

‘He’s crazy, Flanders,’ they all said to me.  ‘We’re leaving.  Are you with us or not?’

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I stayed true to the troll.  They all left me without saying, ‘Good-bye.’  And I was no longer with all of my friends.  But I was not sorry.  I was alone with the troll from God now.  I wanted to hear more

preaching.

The troll said to me, ‘You did not run off with your friends.’

I said, ‘I want to find out about God.’

‘You made the wise choice,’ he said.  Then he asked, ‘What is your name?’

And I said, ‘My name is Flanders.’

And he asked, ‘Do you want to get saved, Flanders?’

‘Oh yes.  I do, O troll,’ I said.

‘Getting saved is as easy as “ABC,” O Flanders,’ he said to me.

‘ABC?’ I asked him.

‘Yes—Admit; Believe; Call,’ he explained to me.

‘That sounds easy to do,’ I said.

“It is the free gift of salvation, Flanders,’ he told me.  And he filled me up with lots of preaching upon this ABC.  He said, “A—Admit.  Admit that you are a sinner.  Sin is any disobedience or any rebellion against any of God’s commandments or against His authority as God.  In James 2:10 it is written, “For whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all.”  Did you do anything very bad like rob a bank or do illegal drugs or kill someone?  You are a sinner.  Did you do anything just a little bad like tell a lie or think a bad thought or disobey your parents?  You are still a sinner.  And in the eyes of our holy and righteous God, all sin is bad.  Indeed, Flanders, so bad is sin, that if God allowed sin to come into Heaven, Heaven would be no better than Earth.  That is why in order for you to get to Heaven, first you have to have your sin taken away from you.  Now you cannot take away your own sin from yourself.  Only Jesus can take away your sin for you.  In John 1:29 it says, “The next day John seeth Jesus coming unto him, and saith, Behold the Lamb of God, which        

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taketh away the sin of the world.”  Jesus is the Lamb of God slain from the foundation of the world.  It is He Who bore all of mankind’s sins—and all of your sins—upon His body on the cross.  He is the Saviour of the world, the great Redeemer of mankind, God in the flesh.  He is the way to Heaven.  Do you understand, Flanders?’

‘I do, good troll,’ I said.  And I do admit that I do sin.’

‘Well said, my good child,’ he said. Then he preached further on that acronym ‘ABC.’  He went on to say, “B—Believe.  Believe that Jesus Christ died on the cross for your sins and rose again the third day.  Only believe!  This Jesus willingly went to the cross to shed His perfect sinless blood and to die in your place as a substitute.  And three days later, He arose from the dead in a miracle of miracles only God could do.  This was the Resurrection, the Easter miracle.  Because He lives, we can live.  Now, take heed.  Do you only know about this Lord and Saviour in your head?  Is He Someone you just heard about in some church?  Is He a friend’s Friend?  Is He to you, as some affirm, merely a great Teacher?  Is His death, burial, and resurrection just something that happened long ago in history? Is the cross just an icon for someone’s wall?  If so, you are yet lost in your sins, Flanders.  On the other hand, do you know in your heart that if you were the only sinner in a world of sinless people, Christ would still have gone to the cross for you alone?  Do you know in your heart that if you were the only person in all of this world of Earth, that Jesus would still have gone to the cross for you?  Is Easter a holiday

of Christ’s Resurrection and not a holiday for the Easter Bunny?  Is Christmas a holiday of Christ’s First Coming and not a holiday at all about Santa Claus?  Is Thanksgiving a holiday to praise and thank God for all of His blessings and not just “turkey day?”  And is the cross a constant reminder to you of the Good Lord Who loves you as your personal Saviour? If so, you are saved from your sins.’

‘Good troll, I believe,’ I said.  ‘I believe that the Lord Jesus died for me and rose again.’

‘This moment, Flanders, you are not far from salvation,’ he said to me.  Then he finished his preaching of Jesus with that divine acronym:  “C—Call.  Call upon the name of the Lord, and you

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will be saved.  God says this promise of promises in Romans 10:13 and in Acts 2:21.  In other words, all that you have to do to get saved is to pray, Flanders.  Pray to God, asking Him to forgive your sins and to save your soul.  Salvation is freely offered, and it is freely given.  Ask for eternal life, and He will give you eternal life.  But do not tell me, “I heard about Jesus dying and rising again.  I’m saved,”

if you have never humbled yourself before God and in sincere prayer asked Him to save you.  In James

2:19 it is written, “Thou believest that there is one God; thou doest well: the devils also believe and tremble.”  The Devil believes that God died and rose again, too; but he cannot be saved.  Salvation is not for the evil angels, and it is not for the good angels; salvation is only for all mankind.  And the soul that is convicted and humble and sincere and repentant and searching for God, that is the soul that calls upon the name of the Lord and gets saved.  My searching Flanders, God the Father planned your salvation; God the Son purchased your salvation; and God the Holy Spirit protects your salvation.

All you need to do now to accept this so great salvation is to pray along with me what we soul-winners call “the sinners’ prayer.”  I urge you to call upon the name of the Lord right now unto God the Father in the name of God the Son with the words of God the Holy Spirit.  “And this is the promise that he hath promised us, even eternal life.”  I John 2:25.  And, Flanders, you and I have a God Who cannot lie and Who does not break promises.  Flanders, would you pray with me, and become a born-again believer?

And I at once told this godly troll, ‘I want right now to call upon God to save my soul.’

Knowing what happened next for her Christian boyfriend, as he told his true tale to her, Aphrodite Dea Tea, spoke hoarsely “You prayed and found Christ.”

“That I did, O Aphrodite,” he said.

“Amen!” said Stables.

Even Aphrodite called forth a physically painful, “Amen!”

Flanders Nickels had never heard such a good word come out of his girlfriend’s tongue before.

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“What you just said, Aphrodite!” he exclaimed.

“I meant it, too, for you, Flanders,” she said.  “And for Jesus, too.”

“You sound like you would like to get to know God, too, girl,” he said.

“I do now,” she said.  “And my neck is beginning to feel better now.  And my voice is stronger now.  And I can pray now what you called ‘the sinners’ prayer.’”

“I shall be most honored to lead you through the sinners’ prayer, Aphrodite,” he said, the most excited that he ever got with his long-term girlfriend of these last many years.

“I have just the words that I need to say to Him in my prayer,” said Aphrodite Tea.  She wanted to say her own words in her prayer for salvation.  And Flanders paused and rapturously listened as beloved Aphrodite asked for the free gift of eternal life.

And Aphrodite Dea Tea prayed thus in a prayer that came up to the throne of God in Heaven:

“Dear God, Whom I have never known and to Whom I have all my life said, ‘No.’  I want to know You now.  And I say, ‘Yes,’ to You now.  I went and got my neck all sliced across today.  We both know why.  I was all wrong.  You were all right.  I thank You for not having given up on me.  I thank You

that I am not going to die today from mine and Stables’ accident right here.  I thank You for today’s wake-up call for my soul.  I am a sinner very much.  I am sorry.  And I want to do better for now on.

Forgive me, if You would.  I know and confess now that this Christ the Lord did indeed die for my sins, as Flanders kept telling me. This is the truth of the cross.  And now I know and confess the truth about how You arose from the grave on the third day, just as Flanders always said.  Because of my boyfriend, I got hurt today in my neck.  But because of me, Jesus suffered the torments of crucifixion.  I ask You now to save my soul and to give me everlasting life in Heaven in my life to come.  Thank You, Jesus.

I cannot do this for myself.  In Your name I pray.  Amen.”

It was done.  It finally happened.  The lost girlfriend had gotten saved right now.  He reached forth his hand and stroked a single stroke down her brown bangs.  But now it was all right for him to do

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this.  She knew it, too.  And she understood why.  “I’m born again now, too, Flanders,” she said.

“You have become a Christian, dear, dear Aphrodite,” he told her.

“We are both born-again believers now, Flanders,” she said.

“Do you know all that that means for the two of us, Aphrodite?” he asked.

“It means that we are going to spend eternity in Heaven with Jesus together,” she said.

“Yes!  Yes!” he said.  “But it also means something else about us now!”

“What is it, Flanders?” she asked.

“You and I are no longer unequally yoked together, girl!  I am so happy!” he said.

“I know what you are saying to me, Flanders!” she said, happy like never before.

“We do not have to break up now, woman!” he said.

“Then you are not leaving me, Flanders?” she asked.

“I am not leaving you,’ he said.  “Would you stay with your errant Christian boyfriend?”

“I will stay with you, boyfriend, if you stay with me,” she said.

“It’s a deal, Aphrodite!” he said.

“It’s a date, then, Flanders,” she said.

She reached out her hand to his hair, and he reached out his hand to her hair.  And they stroked each other’s brown hair with a stroke.

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CHAPTER XVIII

“Bitsy, my Bitsy,” she heard beloved Proffery speak to her, her face downward where she was lying.  She remembered what had happened to her.  Her back felt on fire of pain.  And her gymnastics leotard was worse off than she was from the tiger attack.

“Proffery?” she asked.  “Is that you?”  She tried to roll over onto her back where she lay, but she settled for being on her side where she lay.

“It is I, Bitsy,” said Proffery with a grief for her suffering.

“Don’t move, Mistress,” said good Mane.

“Mane told me what happened, and he brought me here very quickly.  How are you feeling?” asked Proffery Coins.

“I’ll be all right,” she said.  “I think that I will be okay,”

“That should have been myself who got mauled by that tiger,” he said, convicted of his sins.

“The right person got the tiger swipe, Proffery,” said Bitsy Windemereshire.

“I think that it is time for you and me to start fearing the Lord, Bitsy,” he said.  “Worse things yet can happen to us.”

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“You’ve come to see me for our last time today, haven’t you, Proffery?” she asked.

“I have, Bitsy,” he said.

“Are we breaking up, Proffery?” she asked.

“We are breaking up, Bitsy,” he said.

“What does a girl say to her boyfriend on their last date together?” asked Bitsy with a sad sigh.

“Mistress, ask him to tell you how he had found Christ,” said Mane.

“I’d like to hear that now, Mane,” she said.  And she rallied and sat up.   “Would you tell me now how you became born again, Proffery?” she asked.  “I promise to listen this time.”

He took one look at her back, and he gasped.  “We’ve got to help you with that wound, Bitsy,” said Proffery.  “I shall indeed tell you now the testimony of my salvation.”  And he and Mane set about to cleanse and to mollify and to heal the terrible tiger scratches all across her back.  And as boyfriend and pet lion tended to her wounds, boyfriend told her what she now wanted and always needed to listen to from her Christian man friend:  “My own so great salvation involved two other men—a next door neighbor and a proclaimer of the Gospel.  My next door neighbor was a twenty-eight-year-old man living on Elm Street in an upper apartment next to my my parents’ house.  He was a lover of dogs in search of the perfect dog to settle down with for the rest of their lives together as master and dog.

And until then, he had not the opportunity to pursue this life goal of his.  But now he was on his own and with a job that could pay for his rent and other living expenses.  When he was still a young man living at home with his independence and dream dog still far away, he called this dog of his future ‘the Highlander.’  But now that this brand new life was imminent for him, he now called this extra special dog soon to come ‘My Especial.’ and ‘My Partner-In-Life.’  He had two proverbs that he felt most wise in his new life with a dog.  One was, ‘We are broke, but we are happy, because we are together,’  And the other was ‘We are poor, but we are happy, because we have each other.’  He would call this living dream dog, ‘Chelsey.’  And she would be a Collie dog.  And he knew just exactly how this Chelsey

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had to be for him.  She would be a grown-up female Collie.  She would be two years old.  And she would be a tri-color.  And she would have symmetrical markings across her face.  And her ears would be half-cocked.  And she would cock her head to the side at him and give him a brown-eyed look.

And she would like to run with him along the waves of the ocean; this was his life dream with a Collie dog.  He had always wanted to settle down with ‘a good dog in the countryside’ to run in the meadows with; this was his meaning to life.  But here on Elm Street, the next door neighbor here in Green Bay thought instead to settle down with a good dog in the city.  And he paid no heed to this compromise.  And he took regular walks to the Brown County Humane Society in search for the perfect Collie dog.

He put ads in the classifieds in the Green Bay Press-Gazette in search for a dog for sale who could be his perfect Collie dog.  And he spread the word around his neighborhood hoping to find his perfect Collie dog.  And he got a reply from a dog owner in Oconto Falls who had a dog to give away.  And the  next door neighbor drove a car for his first time since getting his license ten years before—a rental car—to this place not too far away.  And in his haste, he decided on the way there, before he had even seen the free dog, that she would be his one.  Next door neighbor had given way to impatience in his search.

And he got there, saw the dog, and the dog was not a Collie.  The dog was not two years old.  The dog was not a grown-up.  But she would do for him, he assumed.  And the dog that he had brought back home in the rental car was a seven-month-old mongrel dog who was not trained, not mature, and not housebroken.  And she came into his upper apartment, and he thought he had found happiness.  Now he had a dog with which he could share his favorite meal of coffeecake and apple cider.  Now he could come home from work on the bus and see her beautiful canine face looking at him from his second-story window of his bedroom.  Now he could see her sitting underneath his bed with her fore paws stretching out beyond the bed where she lay on her belly.  Now he could have her on his bed with him all night as he got his good night’s sleep every night.  Now he could hold her paw in his hand in a most

fulfilling handshake between canine and man.  Now he could kiss her on the head as masters can do

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best, and she could kiss him on the nose as pet dogs can do best.  Her old name with her previous family was ‘Kelly Jellybean.’  Now her new name with next door neighbor was ‘Chelsey.’

But next-door neighbor did not know that a master cannot leave his dog home all day while he went to work and back without having to come home at lunchtime to let his dog do her business.  This new master could not do such a thing, with his transportation to and from work being the city bus.  And he was not going to do anything about that now.  And he daily came home to piles and puddles on his living room carpet.  And this was a rental property.  Further, inside with him when people were in bed, she started barking; and there were three other apartments in this little house of apartments.  And when she was alone in the daytime, she tipped over a metal rack of a metal dinner bowl and a metal water bowl that was built so as to not tip over.  Also one day when she was alone, she chewed up the far end of an extension cord, whose near end was still plugged in.  And playing games with her were not so fun for him after all—it was too cold outside; and it was too cramped inside.  And this lasted for nine difficult days for next door neighbor.  And then he gave up on Chelsey, took a taxi ride with her to the dog pound, and left her there for a new owner who might come along.”

Proffery continued his testimony of his salvation, “Next door neighbor was soon going to find out that it was not a dog that he needed in life, but rather Jesus Christ Whom he needed in life.  No dog is the answer to life; only the Lord Jesus can satisfy a person’s greatest needs.  The answer to ‘Why am I here?’ is not to live life with a Collie dog, but rather to live life with a saving knowledge of the personal Saviour.”

He spoke more about how he had gotten saved:  “Along came a proclaimer of the Gospel to next door neighbor’s upper apartment.  This proclaimer of the Gospel did proclaim to him, ‘The Lord Jesus died for your sins and arose the third day from the dead.’   And after some more preaching, this man of the Gospel did lead next door neighbor to a most sincere and valid salvation.  Next door neighbor got saved, and the first thing he said to this Gospel proclaimer was, ‘I’ve got a friend next

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door.  He’s a boy.  And he has taken care of my Chelsey for me a few times when I had an errand to go do.  He’s got to hear everything about Jesus that you told me tonight, sir.’  This was I, O Bitsy, when I was still a little child, living yet with Mom and Dad.  And right away this proclaimer of the Gospel came right over to my house.  He was a fundamental Baptist traveling preacher.  And the first thing he said to us was, ‘Good family, Jesus saves.’

I asked him, ‘What does Jesus save from?’

And he said, ‘From a life of unsatisfied desire and from a life to come of hellfire.’

Next door neighbor was also here with us, and he said right away, ‘Before Chelsey and with Chelsey, I was discontent, Proffery.  But with Jesus as my new Saviour, now I am content.’

‘Does this Jesus fulfill a person?’ I asked.

And the proclaimer of the Gospel then proclaimed the Gospel to me, saying, ‘Eternal truth is the death and burial and resurrection of the Saviour Jesus Christ.’

‘The Lord Jesus is the meaning of life,’ said next door neighbor.

‘Is this Lord Jesus the reason that I am here?’ I asked the proclaimer.

And the proclaimer said, ‘It is written four times in Psalm 107:  “Oh that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men!”’

‘Then we are here to praise the Good Lord then?’ I asked.  ‘That is why God made us?’

And the proclaimer answered my question with another Bible verse, saying, ‘It is written again, “This shall be written for the generation to come:  and the people which shall be created shall praise the Lord.”  Psalm 102:18.’

‘Praising God brings fulfillment?’ I asked him.

‘And thanking God brings fulfillment,’ he said to me.  ‘It is written, “Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ;”  Ephesians 5:19.  And again is  it written, “In every thing give thanks:  for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.”

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I Thessalonians 5:18.’

I asked then, ‘So to be happy in my life, all I have to do is to praise and thank my Maker?’

‘My son,’ he said to me, ‘to be happy in your life, you need to get born again.  Only a born again believer can glorify his Maker and find happiness in giving praise and thanks to God.  An unbeliever can seek to praise and thank his Maker till he is blue in the face, but he can neither glorify God not find happiness as long as he stays an unbeliever.’

‘I think that I am beginning to understand,’ I said.  ‘We were made by our Creator to have fellowship with Him, and we can only do that if we are born again believers.’

‘Young lad, you are this day not far from salvation,’ he said.

And next door neighbor said,  ‘Take it from me, Proffery, if you get saved, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain.’

‘I believe it,’ I said.

‘I was making a God out of my dog, and I was ignoring the God of my dog,’ said next door neighbor.

‘”Who changed the truth of God into a lie, and worshipped and served the creature more than the Creator, who is blessed for ever.  Amen.”  Romans 1:25,’ said the proclaimer preacher.

‘That was I, Proffery,’ next door neighbor told me.

‘I think that I might be doing the same thing with Rin Tin Tin,’ I said.  ‘I like German Shepherds a lot.  And maybe German Shepherds are more important to me than is God.’

‘My son,’ said the Baptist minister, ‘worship the Maker, not the one that the Maker made.’

‘I want to do that, sir,’ I said.  ‘I want to get God in my life just like next door neighbor has.’

‘Once you will do that,’ he said, ‘you will find satisfaction in life, and you will go to Heaven instead of to Hell when your time comes to leave this Earth.’

‘Hell sounds worse than living one’s whole life without God,’ I said.

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‘Hell is eternal separation from God,’ said the Baptist soul-winner.

Next door neighbor said, ‘Hell is most of all fire,’

And the proclaimer said, ‘Fire is the most of what Hell is in its damnation.’

“I really really never want to go end up down there,’ I said.

‘The Devil will end up there someday for forever,’ said the Gospel proclaimer.

‘And if I get saved, I get to end up in Heaven for forever?’ I asked.

‘Yes, my son,’ the proclaimer said, ‘with Jesus and myself and your neighbor and all the other saints of the history of the Earth.’

‘What do I need to do?’ I asked.  ‘What did you do to get saved, next door neighbor?”

‘All I did was pray and ask God to save me,’ said next door neighbor.

‘And you believed in Jesus as you did so,’ said the proclaimer of the Gospel.

‘Yeah.  I did.  That I did.  I asked for salvation, and God gave me salvation,’ said next door neighbor.

And the traveling preacher said, ‘That is all you need to do to become a born-again Christian, son.  Pray to God and accept Christ’s free gift of eternal life.’

‘What exactly should I say to God in order to do that right, sir?’ I asked the Baptist proclaimer.

This proclaimer then looked up to Heaven and said to God, ‘”Bless the Lord, all his works in all places of his dominion:  bless the Lord, O my soul.”  Psalm 103:22.’

Then he turned away from Heaven, turned to me, and said, ‘I will lead you line-by-line through the right words of the right prayer to get saved.’  He said that Baptists called it ‘the sinners’ prayer.’  And by saying this prayer, a person found salvation by grace through faith.

And we started this prayer together, continued this prayer together, and finished this prayer together.  And it only took about thirty seconds.  And, behold, that is how I became a born-again believer, O Bitsy.  And I have no regrets.  And I had no turning back.  And I love Jesus more now than

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I did when I first found Him.  That is the testimony of my salvation.”

“I do believe that this is the first time that I listened to you tell me the whole thing, Proffery,” said Bitsy Windemereshire.

Mane said, “It is a good tale and a true tale.”

She took a deep breath in and a deep breath out where she sat.

“Does it still hurt?” asked Proffery.

“Yes.  But it does not hurt so bad now.  Thank you both for working on my back,” she said.  “I messed with the wrong tiger.”

“God sent that tiger,” said Proffery.  “It is not too late for you to ask Him into your heart as Saviour, Bitsy.”

A long thoughtful silence passed across her beautiful features, and Proffery felt like this was his last chance before he had to leave her and give up on her soul.

And his gymnast girlfriend spoke now in most earnest and truthful reply, “I need to find Jesus today as you did many years ago, O Proffery.”

“You really mean that,” said Proffery Coins in most ardent words.

“I have been tempting you all of our years together, Proffery, and I have been tempting the Lord all of my years of life,” confessed Bitsy Shea Windemereshire.  “It is time that I got right with boyfriend and with God right now where I sit.”

“You mean it,” he said, to make very sure.

And she said, “I have to pray a kind of prayer to get saved.  Don’t I?”

She did mean it.  And he was sure now.  And he got to work on the soul of his dear girlfriend.  He said, “I will be glad to lead you through the prayer if you want to repeat it after me line by line.”

“I want to pray it now with my own words,” she said.  “I have a lot to say to God right now, and I have a lot to ask Him right now.”

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And Proffery duly conceded to her requests.

And from where she sat, Bitsy Shea Windemereshire bowed her head, and she prayed to God for her first time:  “Dear God:  My gymnastics leotard is all torn up.  My back is all torn up.  And my soul is all torn up.  I am torn and ripped and broken and crushed before You.  All of this is because I am a dirty rotten sinner who on her own goes and does sin all of the time.  And because of that I have to end up way down in Hell—the bad place of fire—for ever.  Please do not let this bad woman praying to You now have to go down there.  Proffery was right all along.  And I was wrong all along.  The Lord Jesus did shed His perfect blood for me; he went and did that on the cross.  And on Easter Sunday He did rise from the grave; that was the glorious resurrection.  And this same Jesus is the way and the truth and the life; no woman can come to You, but by Jesus.  Again, Proffery was right, and I was wrong.  But right now I have hope and sureness in You.  I can go to Heaven.  You can bring me There.  All I need to do is to become a born-again Christian.  Now I want to become a born-again Christian, Lord.  And I ask You to forgive me and to purify me and to save me.  I repent, as Proffery calls it.  And I ask You now to give me a bright future in Heaven with You and with Proffery for forever.  I ask You now to become my own personal Saviour from my sins.  And I ask You this in the name of Jesus.  Thank You, God.  I love You.  I shall live for You.  And I shall be with You Up There as I am down here.  Amen.”

Man and woman and unicorn lifted up their heads from this prayer.

“I did it.  Didn’t I?” asked Bitsy Windemereshire.

“You did, girlfriend!” said Proffery.

“You did indeed, Mistress,” said Mane.

For her own assurance, Proffery Coins asked her, “Now, Bitsy, if you were to die today, where would you go?”

“I would go right Up to Heaven,” she sang out in joy of the Lord.

“How come?” he asked.

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“Because I prayed and asked God to save me,” she said.

For further assurance, Proffery asked, “And, Bitsy, if you had died before what just happened just now, where would you have gone?”

“Right down to Hell,” she said in her most eternal security now.

“How come?” he asked.

“Because I would have not yet prayed and asked God to save me.,” she declared with Holy Spirit wisdom.

Mane said, “Behold, my mistress has become a child of God.”

“My girlfriend has become a daughter of God,” proclaimed Proffery Coins.

“And now I have God as my Father,” she said.

“Say a Bible verse about that, Proffery,” said Mane.

“I shall, O Mane,” said Proffery.  “It is written, guys, ‘And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father.’  Galatians 4:6.”

“Abba, Father,” prayed Miss Windemereshire her second prayer of her life and her first prayer of her new life.

“Do tell us another verse from the Bible, O Proffery,” asked the pet lion.

“I know another one just like it,” he said.  “Is it not written in Romans 8:15, ‘For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father?’”

“Abba, Father,” prayed the new convert Bitsy in joy of the Lord.  “Now I do not have to worry about where I am going after I die.”

“’These things have I written unto you that believe on the name of the Son of God; that ye may know that ye have eternal life, and that ye may believe on the name of the Son of God,’  I John 5:13,” said Proffery Coins.

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“You now know and believe, Mistress,” said Mane.

“Jesus does save, Mane,” said Bitsy.  “Now what, Proffery?”  She was asking what she should do in her new life in Christ.  But this question evoked and brought to mind instantaneously just exactly why Proffery had come here in the first place.

“I had come to help you,” said Proffery.  “And I had come to call it quits between us.”

“You helped me, Proffery,” she said somberly.  “My back feels better now.  I thank you and Mane.”

Most wise in ways, Mane asked the question, “Proffery, did you not come to break up with my mistress because of how you two were unequally yoked together?”

“Yes, Mane.  God was angry with me, and he smote me through Bitsy at her expense.  I do not want worse things to happen to her,” said Proffery Coins.

“Why, Proffery, how things can change between you two now.  Are not now you both instead equally yoked together now that she is a Christian just as you are a Christian?” asked good Mane.

A great light of wonder and marvel came upon boyfriend’s and girlfriend’s faces.

“Why, yes,” said Proffery.

“We can keep seeing each other now, O Proffery!” sang out Bitsy in rejoicing and fervency.

“Why, yes, dear Bitsy,” he said.  “What a most happy thing happened between us this day from you getting saved like this!”

“Would you stay with me, Proffery?” she asked.

“I will stay with you for ever,” he said.

“You two are now boyfriend-and-girlfriend-in-the-Lord,” said Mane.

“Boyfriend-and-girlfriend-in-Christ,” said Proffery Coins, hearing these sweet words in his ears.

“What shall we do now, Proffery?” she asked.  She was asking for a kiss.

And he answered her with action and not words.  He kissed her sweetly upon her lips.  But now,

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she could tell, a kiss was okay with her Christian boyfriend.  That was because now she was a Christian herself, too.

“Answer that for me,” he teased her.  He was asking her to kiss him right back. And she did kiss   

him right back upon his lips in her answer.

“This is getting mushy,” said Mane the lion.  And all three laughed together.  Then Mane took them back home to his mistress’s place.                                                                                                         And Proffery stayed up all night to take care of her many great and sore wounds in her back.  And in the next morning, she put on her second favorite gymnastics leotard now that her favorite one was ruined.  And that was the black one with the long white sleeves that she had let Proffery put on that one wild night some time ago.  And she said, “For now on, Proffery, it shall be Kristi Powell’s gymnastics leotard that I shall have on.”

“I like it lots!” he said in great approval.

“I think that I do, too,” she said.  “I will miss my old chevron pattern, though.”

“You look great both in chevron pattern and in solid pattern, girlfriend,” praised Proffery.

“Amen to that, Proffery,” she said for her first time since getting saved.

“Amen!” said her boyfriend.

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CHAPTER XIX

Redde followed Regal on into his most holy breezeway.  She had come here to get saved finally, and once in this room for real for her first time she could feel the Spirit of God in here.  It was a surprisingly basic and simple room with scant and cheap furniture.  “Wow, Regal, I’ve never been in here before.”

“Everyone who has come into my breezeway lost has come out of my breezeway saved, Redde,” he said.

Saying this a different way, she said, “Then no one who has come unsaved has left unsaved, Regal.”

“God is in my breezeway,” Regal Sixpence told her.

“I feel the Lord in here,” she said.

“You do mean what you said back there in the field of the night.  Didn’t you, Redde?” he asked.

“Where I almost died?” she asked.

“Yes.  You said that you wanted to quickly become a born-again believer before something worse happens to you,” he said.

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“I almost fell down to my death,” she said, her knees still trembling.  “I am scared to death.”

“The Lord smote you because of my sins, Redde,” he said.  “That should have been myself who was falling down to my death just a while ago.”

“I was falling down to my death because of that first hug I had made you to give me,” she said.

“And for all those other hugs that night we let go of all restraints.  And for all these years that I rejected the Saviour that you wanted to have me to know.”

“Our patient Lord had mercy on the both of us.  Thank God for the keen senses and agile body of your rescuing griffin, O Redde,” he said.  “God used good and faithful Battles to rescue you.”

“God is Good, and God is Great,” she said.  “Praise Him for my pet griffin.”

“Soul M,” he said with a sigh of great dreamy reverie.  “It is about to happen, and it is the one whom I wanted it to be.”

“Your girlfriend of many years, Regal,” she said.

“My only girlfriend in all of my life, Redde,” he said.

She then sighed, but with a sorrow.  And she said, “I know the other reason why you came for me in the dark field to bring me to your breezeway, Regal”

“I had come for you to bring you here and to lead you to Christ as Saviour,” he said.

“Oh, but you also came for me to tell me what you have to do now after all of this trouble that came up,” she said.

“What is it that you mean by ‘what I have to do?’” he said gently in compassion to her.

“Oh, Regal,  You don’t know,” she said.  “You came to break up with me.”

“I thought I did as I rode Battles’ back to come to you, Redde,” he said.  “But once I got there, you said that you wanted to become a Christian before anything else might befall you.  So now I need not have to separate from you in the will of the Lord.  The will of the Lord I then found out this night was that I once again tell you about Jesus in here, get you mightily saved, and write your name on my

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Lamb’s Book of Life as my one-thousandth soul won for Christ.”

“So we do not have to quit seeing each other anymore?” she asked.  “You always talked about your ‘unequal yoke’ in me.”

“That was because you were not a believer, and I am,” he said.  “But I know now that you mean business with God since that scary fall you were having in the dark.  I know now that I can this time get you saved, now that you are in here for your first time.  And that means that you will become a Christian like myself.  And when a Christian guy who is living for the Lord is dating a Christian gal who is living for the Lord, that is a good thing, and it is no longer being unequally yoked together.  This night my prayers have been answered.  It is time to tell you about Jesus Christ the Lord.  Shall we sit down at my card table, girl?”

“I would be honored to sit with you at your card table, Regal,” she said.  And they sat down where Regal had led nine hundred ninety-nine previous souls to a saving knowledge of Jesus.  “Where should we start?” she asked.

“I was thinking about telling you how I had found Jesus myself long ago,” he said.

“Do tell me, Regal,” she said.  “In here alone with you I am your most captive audience.”

And he gave Redde Steady Westminster the testimony of his salvation:  “It happened for me

when I was yet little at Menominee Park in Oshkosh.  I was standing by the statue of Chief Oshkosh.

Two men came up to me and chatted with me.  The first man I now call ‘The Conqueror Without Christ.’  Then the second man I now call ‘The Conqueror With Christ.’

The first man, the Conqueror Without Christ, came up to me with a face full of many sad years, and he said to me first off, ‘I shall prevail, and then I shall be happy.’

‘What do you mean, sir?’ I asked him.

And he said, ‘Young man, I am a lone soldier of wars. I have fought great foes in my mind.  I am an analyst:  with my mind I analyze things and find out the answers to these things.’

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‘What kinds of things do you have battles with, sir?’ I asked him.

And he answered and said, ‘Adversaries that come into my head, young man.  I am a conqueror of mighty forces.  I have done great things.  I have seen many wars.’

‘Did you serve our country in the military?’ I asked him.

‘No, lad,’ he said.  ‘My wars have all been inside of me.’

‘You are a veteran of wars inside of you?’  I asked him with the simplicity of a child to whom an adult is talking.

‘World Wars!’ he said.  ‘The first one was back in tenth grade.’  He went on to say, ‘That was World War I.  I had come to discover girls in my young adulthood.  I did not like this new fascination inside of me.  And I rallied my forces to stop myself from liking girls.  And girls became “corruption” to me.  And I punished myself when thoughts about girls came into my head.  And I fought my desires for a girlfriend.  If I were to ask out a pretty girl in high school, then I would have lost my great war.

I knew that I must not lose my war, or I would be ruined.  And my greatest battles were against cheerleaders in the yearbook.  I fought with my thoughts and my glances and my feelings for the rest of my high school years.  I was not supposed to have anything like a girlfriend.  Nobody was going to accuse me of liking girls.  I was proud and too good for this corruption to come into my life.  And then I won!  I had consummate victory over myself with a junior girl named “Mary” when I was a senior boy.  And World War I ended, and I was the victor in this great and long war.  Now I no longer want a girlfriend in my life.  And I am all right now.  I am a fighter!’

‘Your battle was done, and you won,’ I said.

‘But then another battle came into my head,’ he said, weary in his reminiscences.

‘Was it as bad as the first one,  sir?” I asked.

‘It was worse than the first one, son,’  he said.  ‘That became my World War II.’

‘What was that one about?’ I asked.

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‘It was schizophrenia,’ he said.  ‘I think it attacked me because I had fought all those pretty girls in my head all of high school.’

‘Do you think that it was a good idea to make all girls look like the bad guys?’ I asked him.

‘My war against women was emotional; my war against schizophrenia was psychological,’ he went on to tell me.  ‘I quickly went to work with my analytics.  With my great analyses of my mind with my mind I found tools and weapons with which to fight the enemy disease.  When I got up for the morning I was unhappy with my thoughts, and when I lived the rest of the day ahead of me, I was unhappy with my thoughts, and when I went to bed for the night, I was unhappy with my thoughts.

But these thoughts were not the pleasingly tempting thoughts of my first world war; but rather they were intensely disturbing and hurting thoughts of a crazy mind of my second world war.  Have you ever found yourself in a time of turmoil where you sought to try to not think about something, but you could not stop from thinking about it?  Well, try this for a few years.  My only happy times in my life in World War II was when I was asleep.  This was the big one of my World Wars, young fellow.  Well, with great battles and many analyses and with great effort, I conquered this mighty psychological foe.  What I did was to on my own create another schizophrenia also mighty and great; and I pitted my second schizophrenia against my first schizophrenia, and they vanquished each other, and I was suddenly all right!  I was free.  I had won World War II, lock, stock, and barrel.  And now that all of my unhappiness was gone, all that was left was happiness for now on.’

‘Then you found happiness, sir, after you kicked the bad schizophrenia out of your brain all by yourself,’ I said.

‘For a very short while,’ he said.

‘What happened?’ I asked him.

‘A third enemy came to attack my mind,’ he told me.

I asked him, ‘What kind of enemy?’

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And he answered me, saying, ‘A head that got to worrying what others might be thinking about me.’

‘Was that World War III?’ I asked.

‘Yes, young man.  ‘That was World War III.’  He went on to say, ‘What do these people think about me?  Do they like me?  Do they dislike me?  What if I said something, and they misunderstood me?  What if I actually offended someone?’

‘Did you do your analyzing with all of this like you did the first two wars?’ I asked him.

‘Yes.  With my analytical mind, I sought to purge my head from this anxiety,’ he shared with me.  ‘My first program I did call, “Seek and Survey,”  My second program I did call, “Definition and Deduction.”  My third program I did call, “Association and Amalgamation.”  And my fourth program I did call, “Expression and Explication.”   I was studying things in my head I called, “Subjuncts,” and, “Adjuncts,” and, “Superjuncts,”  And my “code of honor,” as I called it, was “not to offend anyone for what they might think” about their own theology or ideology or philosophy.  In World War III, my agenda was to try to learn how to stand up for myself.  And I learned to no longer care what anybody thinks about me.  I thereby won my World War III.’

‘Were the World Wars done for you then, sir?’ I asked him.

And he sighed with a great fatigue, and he said, ‘’No, my son,’

‘Are you fighting one of your World Wars nowadays, too?’ I asked.

And he took a deep breath of weariness and did say, ‘I am in the midst of World War X now, my child.’

‘Are you winning this one, too?’ I asked him.

‘Yes, soon my victory will again be mine,’ he said.  Then he said, ‘I have never lost any of my World Wars in my life.  I am a conqueror.’

I then asked this conqueror, ‘How old are you?’

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And he asked me, ‘How old do I look to you?’

I said, ‘Eighty years old.’

He said, ‘I am fifty years old.’

‘Are you happy?’ I asked him.

‘Not yet, young man,’ he said to me.

‘Will you ever be happy?’ I asked him.

‘I really do not know,’ he said with a sigh of weariness of life.

‘How can one find happiness in life?’ I asked him.’Maybe God can help.’

And he said again, ‘I am a conqueror.’  Then he said, ‘And I can do without Christ.’

Thus the Conqueror Without Christ.

I then said, ‘Sir, you live your life fighting great wars in your mind, and you think to find happiness when one war goes away, but then another war comes along.  You have no rest inside of you.

You do conquer.  That I believe.  But you never found what you are looking for.’

‘I never saw it that way before, young fellow,’ he said with a long sad sigh.

‘Did that help?’ I asked him.

Yet he groaned and went on to say, ‘I see World War XI coming, and I am not even done with World War X.’

Then with no more words this Conqueror Without Christ walked away, with doom of Hell awaiting him in the life to come.

Then another man came along where I was standing beside the statue of Chief Oshkosh.  He was singing a song like from a hymnbook.  I recognized the song.  It was ‘Onward, Christian Soldiers.’

And everything about him was different from the other man who had come my way here.  This new man was happy, and I could tell, and everybody could tell.  He was different.

He came up to me and gave me a little booklet and said, ‘Jesus loves you, young fellow.’  And

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he went on to finish his hymn before me:

‘Onward, Christian soldiers,

Marching as to war,

With the cross of Jesus,

Going on before!’

I then asked him, ‘Are you a conqueror, sir?’

And he said, ‘I am a conqueror in Christ.’

Thus the Conqueror With Christ, who led me to salvation there at Menominee Park.  That booklet he gave me was a salvation tract.  And he was a conqueror who was happy in his life.  ‘How old are you, sir?’ I asked him.

‘I am fifty years old,’ he said to me.

‘You look more like thirty,’ I told him.

‘Why, thank you, young lad,’ he said to me.  ‘Christ keeps me young inside…and outside.’

‘What kinds of things do you conquer with Christ?’ I asked him.

‘The lost souls of men,’ he said right away.  ‘It is written, “They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.  He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.”  Psalm 126:5-6.’

‘You conquer lost souls,’ I said.

‘Christ and I also conquer temptations in my life,’ he said.  ‘It is written, “Blessed is the man that endureth temptation:  for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love him.”  James 1:12.’

“You conquer temptations,’ I said.

‘And I conquer deceptions from Satan in the name of the Lord,’ he said.  ‘It is written, “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”  John 8:32.’

‘You conquer Satan’s lies,’ I said.

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I began to think upon the first conqueror who had come up to me here this day.  I could tell that that conqueror could not conquer his own thoughts and feelings.  But this second conqueror, this Conqueror With Christ, had a godly command over what he did think and how he did feel. I then asked

this soldier of God, ‘What do you do about troubling thoughts?’

‘Ah, my old schizophrenia,’ he said.  ‘That went away when I got born again.’  This Conqueror With Christ had schizophrenia, too, just as did that Conqueror Without Christ.  But this conqueror here had a happiness about himself, and he was completely cured from his disease of thoughts.

‘Did God take away all of your bad thoughts, sir?’ I asked him.

‘No, my young fellow,’ he said.  God says in His Word, “…, My grace is sufficient for thee:  for my strength is made perfect in weakness…”  II Corinthians 12:9.’  He then said, ‘God wants me to turn to Him when my schizophrenia comes back to me and bites me a little.  So I turn to God for the grace to bear my trial, and He helps me to endure.  Again it is written, “But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”  I Corinthians 15:57.’

‘I met a man just a little while ago.  He seemed to be fighting his thoughts all his life.  And his whole life was a defeat,’ I said to this Conqueror With Christ.

‘That is sad,’ said this second conqueror.  ‘He sounds lost in his sins.’

‘What do you do in Christ when your bad thoughts come to you?  I asked him.

‘I quote Scripture right back at the Devil,’ he told me.  ‘It is written, “Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.”  Philippians 4:8.’

‘Saying that Bible verse when the Devil tempts you with schizophrenic thoughts takes away the schizophrenic thoughts?’ I asked him.

And he said, ‘The Word of God has great power for a born-again believer.  It is written, “Now

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thanks be unto God, which always causeth us to triumph in Christ,…”  II Corinthians 2:14.’

‘What is the worst that it gets for you with the thoughts from the Devil?’ I asked.

‘Only when I am at work,’ he said in humbleness.  ‘Work is not a happy place for the believer like worship places are for the believer.’  He went on to say, ‘Going to work is different from going to church and going to Bible reading and going to prayer.  At work, when discouragement and disappointment and job stress does begin to tempt me, I start to think upon the coming rapture of the believers.  Though I endure work, I still have joy in my life, because I know that I am going to Heaven, and nothing and no one can keep me from going there when God says that it is time.  It is written for the Christian about going to work and about going to Heaven in II Corinthians 4:17-18:  “For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory;  While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen:  for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.”’

‘Heaven is that good?’ I asked.

‘Yes, young fellow.  That is how good Heaven is,’ he said to me.  ‘All of the believers’ trials have an end someday.  And that will happen either in the clouds in the rapture or in the grave in death.’

‘Could I get to go to Heaven in my time sometime, too, sir?’ I asked him.

‘All you have to do to get to go to Heaven is to become a born-again Christian,’ he told me.

‘Is it hard?’ I asked.

‘It was very hard for Christ,’ he said to me.  ‘But it is very easy for a person.’

I asked him. ‘It was very hard for Christ?  What did He have to do to make it very easy for me?’

And the Conqueror With Christ told me, ‘He had to willingly lay down His life for you on the old rugged cross.’

‘That sounds hard,’ I said.

‘Then He did something even harder,’ said the Christian warrior.  ‘It was the miracle of the

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Resurrection—a work that only Christ the Lord could do from the grave. Christ arose on the third day back to life.’

‘I believe both of those truths,’ I said to the Conqueror With Christ.

And the Conqueror With Christ said, ‘Let us pray and get you saved, young man.’

And he led me through a most powerful little prayer, line-by-line, and when I was done with that most powerful little prayer, I was saved.  That, O Redde, is how I had become a Christian.”

Thus the testimony of salvation of Redde’s believer-boyfriend.  She thought for a while in this ensuing silence here alone with Regal in his most holy breezeway.  And she said, “Now, Regal, I want to get born again, too.”

“Dear Lord, it is written, ‘…:  for thou blessest, O Lord, and it shall be blessed for ever.’” Regal

Royal Sixpence prayed in great exceeding joy and rejoicing.  These were the words of I Chronicles 17:27.  The time had come.  It was finally happening.  And he went on to finish his work on his beautiful girlfriend’s soul this day.  He said, “I can lead you line-by-line through the prayer, O Redde.”

“I want to say my prayer on my own, Regal,” said the woman sincere in Christ.

“Our God Above will hear your prayer, Redde,” he said.

And Redde Steady Westminster went on to pray for salvation on her own:  “Dear God:  You know all about me.  And I know nothing about You.  I want to get to know You now. I want You to become my Best Friend, and I want to become Your faithful friend.  I want You to become my Saviour, and I want to become the one saved.  I want You to become the Lord of my life, even though I cannot do that on my own.  I apologize for all of the bad things I did in my twenty-five years of life—and for all the bad words I said, and for all the bad thoughts I thought.  I especially say, ‘I’m sorry,’ for all the things I had tried to get Regal to do with me.  I repent now of that.  I believe in the cross now.  I believe in the Resurrection now.  And I believe that You are the Saviour of the world.  Now, if you would, become my own personal Saviour, O Lord Jesus.  Do go ahead and save me from Hell.  And do go

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ahead and save me for Heaven.  Only You can do that for me.  I cannot do that for myself.  Thank You, Jesus. In Your name I pray this.  Amen.”

It was done.  Miss Redde Steady Westminster got saved from her sins here in her good boyfriend’s most godly breezeway.

“Amen!  Amen!  Amen!” said Regal Royal Sixpence.  And he took pencil and yellow sheet and wrote in the bottom line, “Soul M—my beloved Redde!”

“I feel like an embrace,” she said.  “But I dare not tempt my new Saviour.”

“But instead, her boyfriend said, “No, Redde.  What just happened just now is the miracle that calls the most for a hug.”

“Really?” she asked, hoping for another hug that she had assumed should never come.

“We are both born again now, Redde,” he said.  “I feel now that God no longer minds if we embrace each other from time to time for now on.”

“Really?” she asked, remembering her fall in the skies of night.

“Like I said, ‘You and I are no longer unequally yoked together now,’” he told her.

“Well, boyfriend,” she said.  “Let us have that hug then,”

And boyfriend-and-girlfriend in Christ fell upon a long and sweet and savory hug in his glorious and righteous breezeway.

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CHAPTER XX

It is written, “And I saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit

and a great chain in his hand.  And he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the Devil, and Satan, and bound him a thousand years,  And cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, and set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years should be fulfilled:  and after that he must be loosed a little season.”  Revelation 20:1-3.

For the group of the six believers, these times were the times of the dispensation of Christ’s Millennial Reign on Earth.  A decade of history and most abundant life had passed for the six since the days where the three women had gotten saved.  In these ten years hence were three parts for the six Christians.  The first part—the first two of these ten years—were the last two years upon Earth of the Church Age—the Dispensation of Grace.  In these two years on Earth, the six believers continued on as boyfriends and girlfriends, completely repented of any prior backsliding and any carnal ways.  Yea, they all grew mightily in the Lord and grew in affection for each other and proved faithful first to the Lord and second to each other and third to themselves.  Then the rapture of the believers took place, and all six were snatched up into the clouds by Jesus, coming home finally to Heaven, and so were they ever with the Lord.  This began the second part, and this part was the next seven years.  Those who

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were not yet saved when the rapture took place were left behind to face Earth’s darkest hour—the seven years of the Tribulation.  Those who were already saved before the rapture—all who were born again like the six—were spared the seven years of Tribulation on Earth.  And the six were safe in perfect peace and perfect joy and perfect love Up in Heaven these seven years.  When the End Times of

the Tribulation were done, then Jesus came back to Earth in His Second Coming.  In this Second Advent of Christ, the battle of Armageddon took place in the plain of Megiddo.  God Almighty fought this battle with utter invincible power.  And He put down all evil and all wickedness and all sin.  And the Devil was imprisoned in the aforementioned pit.  And Christ set up His prophesied One Thousand Year Reign on Earth.  God Himself now sat upon His throne in Jerusalem as ruler of the world.  And He made all the Earth beautiful once again, as it was before sin had come into the Garden of Eden not long after the creation.  This began the third part of these ten years since the salvation of the girlfriends.

And this was the end of the first year for the six here in the glorious Millennial Reign.  There was now, quite truly, Heaven on Earth in this Millennium.  Flanders and Proffery and Regal loved each other as brothers, like unto the threefold cold not quickly broken spoken of in Ecclesiastes 4:12.  And Aphrodite and Bitsy and Redde loved each other as sisters, “in honour preferring one another,” as it says in Romans 12:10.  And no temptations now came at all anymore between the three dating couples here with Christ ruling the world from His throne in Zion.

And though the three mistresses had lost their beloved pets back in the church age, the three men were each masters now of wingless white unicorns, all noble and glistening and dignified.  Flanders’s unicorn was named, “Empires.”  Proffery’s unicorn was named, “Kingdoms.”  And Regal’s unicorn was named, “Nations.”

And in deed this day the six saints were celebrating the tenth anniversary of the day the three women had gotten saved.  And they were on a pilgrimage on the unicorns to go see the Good Lord, and to thank Him and to give Him gifts.  They were traveling single-file on a street of gold three feet wide,

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with lush short verdant green grass on both sides right up to the edge of this road.  On Empires, Flanders was leading the way, with Aphrodite sitting behind him.  On Kingdoms, Proffery was in the middle of the group of pilgrims, with Bitsy sitting behind him.  And on Nations, Regal was in the back, with Redde sitting behind him.

What were the gifts that these resurrected saints were giving to their Lord?  Flanders, in his first  year here of the Thousand-Year Reign, had written a book for Jesus.  This was the first novel he had written in Heaven.  He entitled this novel, “Elysium.”  It was about the Heaven made by the Maker, and it was five hundred pages long, and it was a hard copy bound in a red report cover.  This was Flanders Nickels’s present to God.  As for Proffery, in his first year here with Christ in Jerusalem, he had traveled this new world and visited many meadows in the countrysides and many shores of the seas.  Before he left on this journey, he took his best five drawings of these fields and his best five drawings of these seashores, put them in a large yellow envelope, and wrote the words “Paradise’s countrysides,” on this envelope in pencil in calligraphy.  And he had this envelope with him now.  This was Proffery Coins’s present to Christ.  As for Regal, he had with him to give to Christ a rewritten copy of his Lamb’s Book of Life from his breezeway of the old Earth.  Though, as it says in the Gospels, when Christ came “not one stone would be left upon another,” and that breezeway had come tumbling down; and though as it says in I Timothy 6:7, “…, and it is certain we can carry nothing out,” and Regal could not bring his original Lamb’s Book of Life with him here—the souls in that book were still here with him now in the Millennial Reign and rejoicing in the Lord.  And Regal and they all found each other Here, and he got their names and wrote them down in his rewritten book of souls won for Christ back in the old days of the world.  This was Regal Sixpence’s present to his Redeemer.  As for Aphrodite, she had a crown to give back to her Saviour.  There were five different crowns mentioned in the Scriptures that a saint could earn in his life before to give back to God in his life after.  Aphrodite’s crown was “the incorruptible crown,” and she had this on her head now as she rode.  This crown was        

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for those Christians who had let Christ control their bodies and their lives back in the Earth of sin and death.  And Aphrodite did just exactly that in those few years after she had gotten saved for the rest of her mortal life.  This was Aphrodite Tea’s present to her Jesus.  As for Bitsy, she also had a crown to give back to her God on His throne.  But this crown was the crown of righteousness, and she was wearing it right now as the six pilgrims traveled.  This crown was given to those who loved the Lord’s appearing while they were still in the world.  Those who desired the rapture, those who wanted most of all to be with Jesus, those who would be glad to give it all up just to run away with Jesus in Heaven, these were the Christians who earned the crown of righteousness.  And this was what best described the heart of Bitsy in her saved last years on Earth.  And when she would stand before Jesus at the end of this journey, she would fall down before Him and give Him back this crown.  This was the present that Bitsy Windemereshire had to give to her Jesus.  As for Redde, she had a crown as a present too.  And she had it upon her head, also, on this long trip.  Her crown was the crown of life, the crown for those saints who were faithful to God during life’s trials in life’s vicissitudes.  The believers who did not murmur or complain or blame God for things were the believers who earned this crown.  And ever since she had found so great salvation, not once had her boyfriend heard her gripe at God.  And this was the gift that Redde Westminster was going to give to the Saviour; it was His to begin with, and it was going to be His once again.

As the six journeyers traveled down the street of gold, the silver hooves of their three unicorns gently and steadily clomping upon the gilded road,  the singer Aphrodite began to sing a hymn all about

Heaven here all around them.  It was called, “My Saviour First Of All.”  And these were the lyrics that she did sing most resonantly:

“1.  When my life work is ended and I cross the swelling tide,

When the bright and glorious morning I shall see,

I shall know my Redeemer when I reach the other side,

And His smile will be the first to welcome me.

I shall know Him,  I shall know Him,

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And redeemed by His side I shall stand,

I shall know Him,

I shall know Him by the print of the nails in His hand.

2.  O the soul-thrilling rapture when I view His blessed face

And the luster of His kindly beaming eye;

How my full heart will praise Him for the mercy, love and grace

That prepare for me a mansion in the sky.

I shall know Him, I shall know Him,

And redeemed by His side I shall stand,

I shall know Him,

I shall know Him by the print of the nails in His hand.

3.  O the dear ones in glory, how they beckon me to come,

And our parting at the river I recall;

To the sweet vales of Eden they will sing my welcome home–

But I long to meet my Saviour first of all.

I shall know Him, I shall know Him,

And redeemed by His side I shall stand,

I shall know Him,

I shall know Him by the print of the nails in His hand.

4. Thru the gates to the city, in a robe of spotless white,

He will lead me where no tears will ever fall;

In the glad song of ages I shall mingle with delight–

But I long to meet my Saviour first of all.

I shall know Him, I shall know Him,

And redeemed by His side I shall stand,

I shall know Him,

I shall know Him by the print of the nails in His hand.”

The hymn about Heaven ended.  The six were silent in worship in Heaven again.  And the silver

hooves continued their own hymn upon the golden street here in Heaven.  The men were going to give all of their hearts and the works of their hearts to the Good Lord upon His throne.  The women were going to give all of their hearts and the crowns of their hearts to the Good Lord upon His throne.  The six pilgrims continued their long trek to Jerusalem.

                                                                                                                                                        Behold, there!  Lo, here!  God sitting upon His throne looking upon His six children standing in worship before Him!  There was compassion in His eyes.  There was love in His countenance.  There

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was deity to His Presence.  He smiled upon them.  He raised his right hand.  He said, “Peace be upon you,” with the voice of many waters.  He bade them approach.  They approached God on His throne.

Flanders Arckery Nickels first approached the great and reverend Lord Jesus.  He knelt down in worship and recited the words of Isaiah 42:5 to this Creator of all that is Good.:  “Thus saith God the Lord, he that created the heavens, and stretched them out; he that spread forth the earth, and that which cometh out of it; he that giveth bread unto the people upon it, and spirit to them that walk therein:”  Then he said to God, “By Thy Word it is done.  Thou hast spoken, and, lo, all things are made.  Thou hast written, and, behold, the Holy Bible is wrought.  I do truly love Thee, O Saviour, and I do bring a gift unto Thee.  Thou hast created Heaven and Earth.  Thou hast created temporal life and eternal life.  And Thou, through my body and soul and spirit, hast created this red book.  Thou hast given it to me, and I do givest it back unto Thee.  Praise Thee, God!  Alleluia and alleluia!  Amen!”  And Flanders set his manuscript before the feet of Jesus.

Jesus then spoke blessing unto him, saying, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.  Thou hast been fruitful with one book.  I shall make thee fruitful with many books.  I shall read your Elysium,  And I had thus written with thee in Elysium past, so shall I also write with thee in Street of Gold for to come.”  Jesus then reached out His hand to Flanders’s head and blessed him, saying, “Thou hast entered into the joy of the Lord.”  He then removed His hand, and Flanders Nickels arose and departed the glorious throne of God.

Next Aphrodite Dea Tea approached Christ and knelt down before Him in worship, her crown upon her head.  She took off her incorruptible crown and did read to Jesus the words of I Corinthians 9:24-27 engraved upon this crown:  “Know ye not that they which run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize?  So run, that ye may obtain.  And every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in all things.  Now they do it to obtain a corruptible crown; but we an incorruptible.  I therefore so run, not as uncertainly; so fight I, not as one that beateth the air.  But I keep under my

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body, and bring it into subjection:  lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway.”  Then she said, “I hereby give back to You, O Lord, this incorruptible crown that Thou hast first given me.”  And she reached forth her hands and set the crown before the throne of God.

And Jesus showed unto her the nail prints in His hands.  She had sung of these in her hymn on the way here.  And Jesus then spoke to her, saying, “Well done, O faithful and humble daughter.  When I spake, thou hast obeyed—both My ‘Thou shalts’ and My ‘Thou shalt nots.’  Thou hast lived thy Christian life saying, ‘I shall do whatsoever Thou requirest of me.  I shall go whither soever Thou sendest me.’  Thou, child, hast given Me thy body to the cause of all righteousness.  Hence this incorruptible crown.”  The Lord Jesus then reached out His hand to her head and blessed her, saying, “Continue, my daughter, to walk in joy and rejoicing and happiness and blessing for now and for everlasting.”  He then removed His hand.  Aphrodite arose, and she departed this throne of glory.

Next Proffery Rule Coins approached the Lord Jehovah Almighty, and he did kneel in worship also.  He spoke to God now the words of I Corinthians 15:58:  “Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye stedfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.”  He went on to say, “Lord, with many papers and with many pencils

I have worked drawings unto Thee in my journey of life on Earth before, and with many papers and with many pencils I have worked drawings unto Thee in this journey o life in Heaven after.  Resplendently celestial are Thy Elysian Fields and Meadows.  Resplendently celestial are Thy Elysian Shores and Seas.  And most resplendently celestial art Thou in Thy Divinity, Who hast created them all.

I do give my chefs d’oeuvre of this life after unto Thee this moment.  Praise Thee, O Son of God and God the Son.”  And Proffery set his big yellow envelope at the feet of Jesus.

Christ the Lord then spoke to Proffery and said to him, “My son, when thou wast in thy walks out upon the meadows of Paradise and out upon the seashores of Paradise, I was there with thee.  I

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drewest as thou drewest.  Mine heart was of thine heart.  My soul worked with thy soul.  My spirit wrought with thy spirit.  I moved thy pencil across thy paper.  What I have created Here with My spoken Word, thou hast glorified on white sheets with thy hand Here.  I have made it, and thou hast drawn it.”  Then Jesus reached out His hand and touched Proffery’s head, and He blessed him, saying to him, “Well done, thou good and hard-working servant.  Thy labour hast never been in vain. Continue onward in great satisfaction of works very well done.”  Christ then removed His hand, and Proffery got back to his feet and departed from the throne of God.

Next Bitsy Shea Windemereshire approached the throne of God with her crown of righteousness upon her head, and she knelt in worship and took off her crown.  And she read to Jesus the engraving of II Timothy 4:8 that was upon her crown:  “Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness,

which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day:  and not to me only, but to all them also that love his appearing.”  Then Bitsy said, “From that first day of my very salvation, I have come to wish to come Home with Thee.  All my life with Thee on the Earth, I had wanted to walk with Thee and to talk with Thee in Heaven.  And now here I am with You Up Here.  My blessed hope of the believer has come as a dream come true.  The rapture has taken me to Heaven, and Thy Second Coming has taken me to Heaven on Earth. I am here now to give this back to you, O Lord.”  And Bitsy adoringly set her crown of righteousness at the foot of Jesus’s throne.

And Jesus spoke to Bitsy, “O loving daughter, as thou hast longed much to be Here with Me,

so have I longed to have you Here with Me.  This crown of righteousness doth speak of a heart made right before Me.  Thou hast loved the rapture both as the promised blessed hope and as the anticipated blissful promise.”  Then Christ Jesus reached out his hand to Bitsy’s head, and He blessed her with these words, “Thou hast inherited this Kingdom prepared for thee from the foundation of the world.”

God then removed His hand, and Bitsy stood back up and departed the throne.

Next Regal Royal Sixpence approached Jesus sitting upon His throne.  He did kneel in worship

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of God, and he said to God the words of John 15:8, saying, “Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples.”  And Regal continued, “Thou hast given me a breezeway in my life before Here wherein I have born fruit a thousandfold!  Thou hast brought into my breezeway

the searching, and the humble and the repentant, and they all prayed with me and got saved from their sins.  I was a messenger from Heaven as I walked the Earth.  I have planted.  And I have watered.  And Thou hast given the increase.  I had led souls to salvation.  But it is Thou Who hast done the saving.”

Having said this, Regal Sixpence said, “And this Lamb’s Book of Life of my soul-winning days I now give to You, O Lord.  Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!”  And Regal laid his yellow sheets in front of Christ Jesus upon His throne.

And Jesus spoke to Regal and said unto him, “Well done, good and faithful servant.  It is written, ‘The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life; and he that winneth souls is wise.’  Proverbs 11:30.

I have seen the tears of joy that fell from your eyes each time thou hast born fruit for me in thy breezeway.  Thy one thousand souls in this little book indeed speaks of thy great spiritual wisdom.

And thy girlfriend is here with Me because of you.  Indeed one soul is worth more than all of the world’s wealth.”  Then the loving Lord reached forth His hand to Regal’s head, and He blessed him with these words:  “My son, rest now forever from thy labours, for thy works have followed thee into this Glory.”  Christ then removed His hand, and Regal got back up and departed God’s great throne.

Next Redde Steady Westminster, her crown upon her head, approached the Lord’s’s throne and knelt down in worship before Him.  She took her crown of life from her head, and she read the inscription upon the crown unto Jesus as He sat:  “Blessed is the man that endureth temptation:  for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love him.”  This was the Scripture of James 1:12.  She then said to God, “Thy servant Job was tested to the uttermost by the Wicked One with trials that far exceeded my trials.  Yet instead of complaining or murmuring or cursing amid his valley of trial, he prayed and said, ‘Naked came I out of my mother’s

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womb, and naked shall I return thither:  the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.’  In all of this, righteous Job neither sinned with his lips, nor charged You foolishly.

I thank Thee that there was much of Job’s heart in me in my two years as a Christian back in the world.

Hence my crown of life, O Lord.  Thou hast given Thy daughter both grace and mercy to endure all of her little trials, and this crown belongs to You.  Thank You.”  And she set her great reward of crown before the throne of God as her present back to Him.

And Jesus spoke to Redde, saying, “Beloved daughter, thou hast clung to the joy of the Lord in life’s bad times as steadily as thou hast so done in life’s good times.  I am no respecter of persons, O Redde.  As I have loved My servant Job, so do I love you, My handmaiden.  Go forth and continue prospering in happiness here in My Kingdom, where there are no such things as trials.”  God then reached out His hand to her head, and He blessed her with these nine words:  “Thou hast entered into the joy of the Lord.”  And Jesus removed His hand; she stood back up; she departed Christ’s throne.

And so continued this Heaven on Earth for the six born-again Christians for the rest of this Millennial Reign.  And when these one thousand years came to its end, Christ created a new Heaven and a new Earth, and life got even better for the six born-again believers.  And time came to an end.

And eternity had begun.

Christian boyfriends and Christian girlfriends, it is most duly and prudently and godly written, “Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers:  for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness?  And what communion hath light with darkness?  And what concord hath Christ with Belial?  Or what part hath he that believeth with an infidel?  And what agreement hath the temple of God with idols?  For ye are the temple of the living God; as God hath said, I will dwell in them, and walk in them; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.  Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you, And will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty.”  Thus saith

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the living Word of God the written Word of God in II Corinthians 6:14-18.

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