~Heaven or Hell In the Old West ~
Greetings fellow adventurers and
those of you elegant folk who maybe don’t fit that description yet. Dubb and I
were sauntering along in the old west. We were coming out of a canyon not long
after the sun had come up when we began to hear a bunch of yelling, screaming
and carrying on. There in a patch of prairie with a backdrop of canyons and
mesas was a little frontier town and that was where the racket was coming from.
If you could not hear all the hubbub coming from this little old town, it might
have given the impression of a peaceful oasis in the Sahara. I was riding old
Marino and Dubb was riding his faithful donkey Alowishes.
We’d arose early that morning on
our bedrolls before the sun had come up and we commenced to talking to the lord
and reading a mite. We were atop one of those canyon walls where we had been
snoring all night. Getting going early and making some tracks was better than
being lie abouts and lazies cooked by the hot desert sun. We had discovered that
we were out of food cause some critters and varmints had gobbled our few crusty
pieces of bread as well as our dried fruit and nuts during the night. We reckoned
that maybe we could wrangle up some breakfast from a chuck wagon somewhere near
about in exchange fer some honest elbow grease or work.
As I was saying, we were coming out
of a canyon when low and behold, we heard the worst sort of screeching, bellowing
and carrying on you can imagine. Although Dubb had a frozen expression on his
surprised face, his head was moving from my face to the town and back at me
like he was watching a cayote chasing a jackrabbit that was often changing
directions in mid-air.
“Hey Zep, maybe we ougha go back the
way we came.” I was reluctant to do that because in the last town we had been
in, word done trickled down to me that some guy named Marshal Grammar and his
eight deputies had put a price on my head. I don’t know why exactly. Maybe its
for the way I talk which isn’t exactly normal.
I had been explaining to Dubb how my
maw was deaf, and how my paw had taken a vow of silence, so talking was
something I had to work on when we went to town or was around kinfolk. But I
told him that both of my parents could read well, and they were often reading.
But as for Marshall Grammar, I
heard that he had claimed that someone matching my description was a nuisance to
the fair residents of Grammar Gulch. Even though I can’t talk too good, my
hearing is good, and over several days I kept watching the residents of Grammar
Gulch. They would talk amongst themselves when they thought I couldn’t hear.
Most of them were sneaking sideways
glances at me when they passed the livery stable where I was working and they
were quietly muttering that when the Marshal got back in town, I was gonna be
locked up sure and certain. Oh, in case you don’t know, a livery stable is like
a hotel for horses. Folks who lived in town and didn’t have a place to put
their horse would keep it in the livery stable where there was hay, water and
people like me to take care of other people’s horses.
Anyways, it wasn’t too long before I
got spooked and Dubb too, especially after I ssaw the wanted poster of the feller’s
profile at the bulletin board next to the sheriff’s office. The bulletin board was
where everyone went to read town news and look for possible jobs. The feller on
the wanted poster had a profile just like mine and I feared the worst. After I
saw that poster, we lit out of Grammar Gulch and it had been a few days since
then. Then a question from Dubb along with all the hubbub brought my mind back to
the present.
“Should we be headin back or
somewhere else Zeb?”
I got to thinking after a bit about
all the commotion ahead of us and I was half minded to agree with Dubb about
going back, but my curiosity and love of freedom had gotten the best of me.
Mostly I wanted to know what going’s on were afoot in the little western town that was less than half a mile ahead of us.
Who was doing all the yelling, and
why was everybody running everywhere like they were on fire? I did’nt see smoke
anywhere. As we plodded on and got closer, we begun to get a better view though
Dubb began to get even more antsy.
“Great goons Zep! Has everyone in that town gone mad?”
“Not everyone. Can’t you see some
folks climbing and perched atop of some of them houses, all quiet and looking everywhere?
I kin see some of them climbing trees.”
We were getting closer to the town
every minute, and Dubb kept looking behind him as if that promised land were in that
direction.
“Zep, I’m a gettin less ‘n less
curious.”
“What you can do is ride Alowishes
right behind me, and peek out once in a while.”
With that sort of assurance, my
strong curiosity was in less danger of getting derailed and the commotion and
bellowing in front of us was more likely to become less of a mystery. I suppose
there might be a line between walking away from mysteries and checking them
out, but where the line is I don’t know. If Solomon was alive, maybe he could
show me.
After several minutes we were coming
to the part of the town that looked like a graveyard, and it looked like most
of the commotion was coming from there. The rest of the town seemed to be mostly behind the graveyard. A finely dressed and manicured
gentleman in a rumpled brown suit was running after everyone with a large
towel. He was snapping at the fleeing hind quarters of anyone he could catch up
to. He looked madder and a wet hen. I heard a lot of snaps and shrieks. Some
folks were yelling one thing, and other folks were yelling something else, and
everyone was running around looking for a safe place.
In another minute Dubb and I
approached a barn of some sort next to the square shaped graveyard with a little
itty-bitty lane between it and the graveyard. We couldn’t see too well cause there
was some shrubbery lining the graveyard opposite the town. It looked like a grassy
tree sheltered graveyard for the most part.
Dubb and I hid our horses behind a large bush and ducked into the barn.
We silently hustled up to the second level, and no one was there. There was
lots ‘o straw in the barn which we used to hide in while we were fixing to look
down into the graveyard. We sort of peeked out of the loft of the barn and down
into the cemetery. We got a very good view from there, but we still had more
questions than answers.
The guy who was a making some of
the loudest noise was a man in a green suit of some sort, buried up to his hips
in a partially dug grave that also had some sort of contraption half buried
with the man. He couldn’t get out and was waving his arms and shouting in a pleading
sort of way, but no one gave him any heed. I looked over at Dubb, covered in
straw, and most of all I could see was his wide eyes.
“He’s not dead! He’s not mad! Calm
down everyone calm down!”
A feller in a baker’s attire ran
past that grave yelling that the sheriff was dead. Another person in a tree was
screaming that the sheriff was crazy. A woman in fancy church clothes ran past bellowing
that it was the great day of judgement. She made a bee-line fer a watering
trough and lept in feet first. Right
after, the man in the rumpled brown suit who was running and snapping everyone ran
up and stopped next to the partially dug grave where the other man in the green
suit was stuck and still yelling. He stopped yelling when the irate manicured
man in the rumpled brown suit shouted at the rest of the crazed townsfolk.
“I’ll teach you all to bury me
alive!” He took off again, and I looked over at Dubb and saw his eyes through the
straw looking in one direction after another. I could see his wide-open mouth
now with bits of straw falling inside, but he wasn’t aware of it. I was gonna
whisper to him that bits of straw was falling in his mouth but I got
interrupted. I looked down and saw the manicured man in the brown suite race by
trying to snap everone with his towel. His brown rumpled suit had dirt on it,
but he still had that manicured look. He skidded to a stop next to the grave where
the other man in the green suit was half buried. Mr. brown rumpled suit glared
around and began to shout again. “You villains! You half-baked two-bit
swindlers! I was never dead!”
Someone in the fancy garb of a firefighter
screamed from another tree. “We’re doomed! The underworld and reaches of hell are
seeking their revenge!”
Mr. green suit was still half
buried and kept shouting and pleading. “He’s not dead! It was an accident! Calm
down everyone! The town council was wrong!”
Several minutes had gone by and there
was less people running and shouting by now. They was either up trees, on houses
or were hiding in the bushes. The man in the brown rumpled suit took off once
again and Dubb and I could hear more snips and snaps followed by shrieks, whimpers,
gasps, crying and yelling.
“The sheriff is possessed!” “The
sheriff is mad!”
“Of course he is mad,” a man in a plaid
Sunday suit bellered from where he was clinging to the roof of a nearby house.”
You were all after burying him alive you were! Someone should be about nipping
the mayor out of that grave!”
“If we try and get on solid ground,
our departed dead sheriff will start snapping us again,” the fireman replied
still clinging to the tree.
By this time Mr. brown rumpled suit
who had been rushing around had skidded to a stop again near the grave where
Mr. Green suit was still half buried and trying to shout above all the hubbub.
“Did’nt I say it all along!? The
sheriff was not dead!”
“Of course, I’m not dead! Whose
bright idea was it to bury me so quickly?”
The manicured man in the rumpled
brown suit was standing still next to the grave, heaving and glaring around. He
looked at the man in the green suit still half buried in the grave who was beginning
to shout more.
“This has been an outrage! You lock
up your town mayor when he tries to intervene to prevent the town sheriff from
being buried alive! Our local wit, Whince and his crazy inventions nearly
buries me just after I got the coffin open and barely before the sheriff could
escape.”
“He was dead! He was dead,” yelled the
fireman who was still up the tree.”
“I was pounding away in that coffin
for ten minutes and I heard a bunch of hollering nearby so my pounding could
not have gone unnoticed.”
“He was not dead” shouted Mr. green
suit who was still half buried.
“Yes! Then I felt what must have
been a hasty jaunty jog inside that stuffy coffin and my head was bumping
around inside. I began to get goosebumps when I felt that coffin being lowered
much too quickly. Were it not for the mayor who escaped the jail you put him in;
I would been buried alive and suffocated by now. Where’s that infernal Whince? His invention
was almost the cause of my demise. How could you not hear all that hollering
and pounding when I was trapped in that coffin? I have snapped everyone who
deserved it with that tablecloth you all put over me inside that coffin.”
Just then, the fireman in the tree
broke in with a quavering voice. “Of course, we were hollering and rushing! We couldn’t
take that coffin to this here grave quick enough when we heard loud noises from
the inside.”
Just then, the woman in the horse
trough in soggy and no longer fancy church clothes looked out from under her
large hat like a frog from under a lily pad and pointed a quivering finger at the
manicured feller in the brown suit who me and Dubb was sure was the sheriff.
“He’s the anti-christ, she said in a
croaky scairt kind of voice. “He can’t be our sheriff! The underworld sent him
in the garb of our dear sheriff. We wanted to bury him as fast as possible
rather than have a minion of the underworld terrorize us. Our dear departed
Sherriff never acted this way before!”
“I’ve never been buried alive
before either! If you heard pounding and scratching from the inside of a
coffin, then the fellow inside isn’t dead and he isn’t a minion of evil. All he
wants to do is get out!”
“And didn’t I say it all along! Didn’t
I say our sheriff wasn’t dead! Didn’t I use all my influence to stop you till
you thought I was mad and locked me in that jail? I kept telling you he was in
a coma; he was in a coma! Doc told me years ago what the symptoms of a coma
were. I know he is not here now, but when Doc gets here, he will set you
straight. He will tell you that the sheriff
was not dead. He is not dead and wasn’t dead and you wouldn’t believe me. And
here I am half buried, and my good green suit ruined too!”
“He made no noise for days before
we put him in that coffin,” commented the fireman. “Then a half hour before the
burial, right in the middle of the pictures for our parade of occupations in
the town hall, we heard noises! After him being in that coffin for days, it scared
me more than I can say!”
“We hear those noises to, and it
scared us something awful!
“Yes, dear lady. We couldn’t hustle
him down here fast enough. Once we were all here, the town council agreed to
bury him as fast as possible. We were sure the evil underworld was at work and
when our crazy mayor come tearing down here out of the cell we locked him in,
and yanked part of the coffin lid off before Whince could spring his new
invention, what had been our dear departed Sherriff came crawling out of that
coffin straight from the reaches of hell. And his first act was to terrorize
us! Sure as sure he’s not our sheriff but some underling of evil!”
“Oh! You’re sure I was in hell were
you!”
Dubb and I continued to watch,
still covered in straw and Dub realized some straw had gotten in his mouth and he
started trying to spit it out. Then we heard a cackly sound, a voice and
follered it to a well on the outskirts of the cemetery, where a small man was
on top the well roof.
“Of course, our dear departed
sheriff was not in hell! He was enjoying the finery’s of heaven along with the
other dear departed citizens of our town, and suddenly, he got yanked back down
to earth, away from paradise and back down to Jitter Gulch. What was it like
sheriff?”
“I was not in heaven!”
“Oh Sherrif! You can’t have it both
ways! Was you in heaven or hell?”
“Oh, I can imagine it,” cried a voice
from a nearby roof. It was the guy in the baker’s attire, and he was inching himself
closer to the edge of the gable on a nearby house.”
“I bet you met Saint Peter and
walked those streets of gold. I bet you ate some fine fruit, and I bet could
tell us…”
“What purgatory was like,” moaned the
formerly finely dressed wide eyed woman who was in the horse trough and
gripping the edge for all she was worth. I turned to Dubb and whispered, “these
here townsfolk don’t know what the good books says about the dead!”
“You mean you don’t know where you
were Sherriff or what you were doing? Whyever not? Wherever I go in the
afterlife, I still want to be an inventor.”
“Inventor!? You nearly invented a
way for me to die more quickly Whince. And I think I would know the difference
between heaven and hell, only I did not go to either one.
“Oh Sherriff,” sobbed the woman in the
horse trough in a croaky sort away, “don’t tell me you saw anyone I know in
Purgatory! I just couldn’t stand it!”
I looked at Dubb, and he was looking
from me to the graveyard and back at me with a flabbergasted expression. Well, I
could hardly stand it myself, and I cleared my throat and stood up, but before I
could say anything, the man half buried in the grave who Dubb and I was shore
was the mayor in a green suit, shouted once more.
“Is someone going to help me out of
here, or do we have to pass another town edict for that?! With the way the town
counsel makes knee-jerk decisions, I should have been out of this grave a
minute ago.”
“Well, get the mayor out,” the
sheriff said in a gruff sounding voice.
“But Sherriff, why couldn’t you
tell us whether you was in heaven or hell?”
“I kin tell you why!”
“Oh no!” moaned the woman in the
trough who was still gripping the edge of the trough and looking out and all
around from under her large hat. “A voice of woe! I knew the judgement was
soon! Who are they going to take first?”
I dusted myself off and cleared my throat.
Most everyone was looking around here and there and everywhere, so I whistled and
waved til everone was looking up at me. Dubb chose to stay hidden in the straw
while I told the residents of Jitter Gulch what the good book says about the
dead.
“The good book doesn’t say anyone
is in heaven or in hell, but that they are sleeping in the grave till the Life-giver calls fer them to wake up.”
The townsfolk seemed to lose their
fear of their Sheriff though they edged around him and begun to walk to where
they was near the barn and looking up at me.
“What’s that you say stranger?”
Well sheriff, what I said is true. The
good book doesn’t say people are in heaven or hell, though it does say Enoch,
Moses and Elijah are in heaven. If you are in heaven, and you know it, that
consciousness means you are alive after death, but the good book says that when
someone dies, they don’t know anything. The great liar said to Adam and Eve that
they would never die, but they done died already, just like the Life-giver said
they would as a result of their sin. All you townsfolk, your sheriff, if he
died, was not in heaven or hell which is an event in time more than a place.
Remember what the lord said about Lazarus. Lazarus was dead, but the Lord
called it sleeping. Death is like sleeping.
But Mr. Stranger, what about the
verse that says, “the smoke of their torment arises for ever and ever?”
“Well, Mr. Fireman, that’s a good
question. I have a small copy of the good book in my pocket. That verse, the smoke
of their torment, that’s from the book of Revelation, chapter 14 and verse 11,
which is about the evil power in the end that forces worship it has no call to
claim or receive. Any of you fellers got a Bible? Being as you almost buried your
sheriff by mistake, which is a shame, for such a funeral service, there’s got
be a Bible around somewhere besides the one I’m holding in my hand.”
Just after I said this, Dubb stood
up still covered in straw, and some of the townsfolk jumped and edged back a little.
“What are you folks worried about?
This is my friend Dubb.” I could understand their reaction since Dubb was getting
up but was still covered in straw. I began to help Dubb get all the straw
sticking out of his clothes and in his hair off him.
“Say Zep, how about I go to our saddle bags
and get the big good book?”
“A fine idea Dubb. Don’t any of you
folks got a Bible?
As I heard Dubb thump down the stairs,
I saw several of the towns folk producing Bibles, some from saddle bags, others
under the seats of their carriages and wagons and someone took a small Bible
like mine from a pocket. I heard Dubb thump up the barn stairs and he was holding
the big, good book with one hand and getting the straw out of his pockets and
hair with the other.
“If you don’t mind stranger, could
you tell us your name?”
“Certainly Sherriff. My name is Zepponius Flisk,
but you kin call me Zeppo. This here is my good friend Dubb Stelacko. Can you
all turn to Genesis 19:27-28?”
“Mr. Stranger, I have lived all my
life believing in Hell and Purgatory and Heaven. There has to be a reward for
the good and punishment for the wicked.”
“An aren’t you thankful dear madam that
God has left the final word on that topic to Himself rather than people?”
“Good point Dubb, and what we tell
you here today will only come from the good book along with a few honest and
open questions. Mr. Mayor in the green suit, could you read that fer us?”
“Abraham arose early in the morning
… and he looked down towards Sodom and Gomorrah, and … the smoke of the land
ascended like a furnace.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mayor. If you
townsfolk will keep in mind Revelation 14:11, it talks about the smoke of their
torment arising fer ever and ever. Can any of you folks tell me the place that
Genesis 14:11 is talking about?”
“Heavens to Betsy! That verse is talking
about Sodom and Gomorrah!”
“You are right Mr. Fireman!”
Revelation 14:11 talks about the smoke of their torment going up for ever and
ever. Smoke from the towns of Sodom and Gomorrah. They went up like a barbecue,
only there weren’t anything left except for ashes. Can you’ll all turn to Jude
1:7? Sheriff, could you read that for us?”
“In a similar way, Sodom and Gomorrah
and the surrounding towns gave themselves up to fornication and perversion.
They serve as an example of those who suffer the punishment of eternal fire.”
“Let me ask you, fair citizens of Jitter
Gulch, is there smoke and fire raging in the middle east in the area of Sodom and
Gomorrah?”
“I think if there were such a
phenomenon transpiring ever since Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed, we would
know about it either from the Bible or common knowledge.”
“You hit it the nail on the head
sheriff! Yes. Jude 1:7 talks ‘bout eternal fire. One thing I know for sure, is
that the Bible don't disagree with itself. Isaiah 28 and verse 10 bears this
out. Jude 1:7 talks about eternal fire and
Revelation 14:11 talks about the smoke of their torment ascending forever ‘n
ever. Are they a contradiction?
“I don’t think so Zep, cause even
the eternal fire mentioned in connection with Sodom and Gomorrah in Jude 1:7 is
not still burning.”
“That’s right Dubb, and what we can conclude with reasonable certainty is that eternal fire don’t go on forever,
but that the result is unchangeable and everlasting.”
“That’s a good explanation Mr. Zep,
but what about the parable of the rich man and Lazarus?”
“That is also a good question Mr.
Baker. If I had not studied the subject, I would also believe that that there
parable was the Lord’s affirmation of hell. Jesus didn’t come up with that parable,
but it was actually put together and repeated by the Pharisees and religious
leaders of His day before He told it in Luke 16, verses 19 thru 31. His
point of repeating that parable was so that them people should listen to those portions of the good book that was available to them at that time and also that
what people do in this here life will affect them in the next. Because of jealousy,
many of them religious leaders were hell bent against believing in the Lord.
His repeating this story wasn’t His affirmation of hell. The religious
leaders of His time in some ways stopped believing in what had been passed down
by their forefathers regarding what the Bible and Old Testament say about death
and judgement.
Many of them religious leaders in and
before the Lord’s time had dropped the flag of truth in a number of ways. An
example was their deviation to believing like the Greeks in relation to death and
hell which is not what the Old Testament teaches. The parable of the rich man
and Lazarus, concocted by the religious leaders of the Lord’s Day, show that Greek
thought and philosophy had crept in, little by little, into the religion of the
Jews.”
“What does the Old Testament say
about death and Judgement Mr. Zep?”
“Good question Sheriff. If I talk
too long, some of you might fall asleep, so I will give a few verses. Ecclesiastes
9:5 says that the living know that they will die, but the dead know not anything.
This here verse helps us to know that the parable of the rich man and Lazarus
is a story and not doctrine. If we look at other verses, we can be even more certain
of this.” In Psalms 6:5 we read, “For in death there is no remembrance of thee:
in the grave who shall give thee thanks?” This verse tells us that nobody
remembers anything after they die. When people sleep, they don’t remember
anything until they wake up, which means that death is like sleep where you don’t
remember anything of have the ability to think. In Daniel 12:2, we read the
following. “Multitudes who sleep in the dust of the earth will awake: some to
everlasting life, others to shame and everlasting contempt.” When the Lord
mentioned Lazarus, He said that Lazarus was sleeping, but of course we know
that Lazarus was dead, but the Lord is agreeing here with this verse in Daniel.”
“Mr. Zep, would you and your friend
Dubb like to stay with us for a while and tell us more?”
“Certainly Mr. Sheriff. We are a
mite hungry and we need a job too.”
“Well, one of my deputies operates the
livery stable here and he is shorthanded. If you will come with me, then I am
sure he can get you some work and a good breakfast.”
As Dubb and I were walking off with
the Sheriff, some of the townspeople began following us to the livery stable,
asking questions. “Mr. Sherrif, if it would be alright to have a town meeting
tonight in your town hall, we could discuss heaven and hell more.”
“Well, I think it is a fine idea.
What do you think mayor?”
“I think it would be a very good
idea sherrif,” the mayor replied walking behind us a few steps and slapping
the dust off of his green suit.”
“Alright folks! Tonight, we are
going to have a meeting at the town hall, and Mr. Zep here will tell us about
heaven and hell, and you all can ask him a bunch of questions then. Is that
fine with everybody?”
The townsfolk all replied here and
there that it was a good suggestion. They began discussing the idea as they
went off in different directions.
“My deputy is a good man, and I am
sure you will be comfortable and well employed. His wife if a good cook too and
I am sure that they have enough to spare and give you two fellows a good meal.
I think I might join you. Being buried alive has given me quite an appetite.”
“Well Sheriff, when you were in
that coma for more than a week, you of course didn’t eat, so I am sure you are
more than hungry.”
“Yes mayor, I am. Do you want to
join us?”
“Well thank you sheriff, but no. A
clerk of mine who arrived at the tail end of Mr. Zep’s speech about heaven and
hell, brought a note that Doc is on his way and should be here in an hour or
so.”
“I suppose he will want to make certain
I am not dead. I am going to escort Mr. Zep and Mr. Dubb to a livery stable for
a good meal and hopefully some jobs. Does that sound good?” the sheriff asked
us with a gruff smile.
I can’t think of anything better,
Sheriff. See you tonight Mr. Mayor. The mayor smiled weakly and departed with a
wave. I watched the major walk back to some grass on the edge of the graveyard
a clerk was waiting. The clerk looked at me and got the oddest look in his
eyes.
As I was walking away with Dubb and
the Sheriff, I heard the clerk say “Mayor, don’t you know who that is?” I
figured that the odds that he had come from Grammar Gulch were low and I was
beginning to think about porridge and milk, bread with butter and maybe some
eggs scrambled together. I looked at Dubb and his smile told me that he was
thinking the same things. I knew the sheriff was hungry and I felt good since I
was sure that Dubb and I had made a good friend. I always preferred working in
a livery stable. Horses respond well to little treats like bits of bread, or
slices of apple. I could tell it was going to be a good day.
“Mr. Gream, that fellow arrived
about a half an hour ago during the worst case of insanity this town has ever
had,” he replied with a shudder. “His name is…well, I forgot his name, but
everyone was calling him Zeppo or Mr. Zep. I think his friend’s name was Bubb.
That is one name I would change if I were him.”
“Mr. Mayor, that guy came from
Grammar Gulch, where our doctor has been detained for several days by Marshal
Grammar.”
“Well! Come to think of it, Mr. Zep
and doc have almost the same exact profile I’ll bet. But why did that overzealous
Marshal detail doc?”
“He said that doc had committed
some crime or other, but we know that is not true. Doc is perhaps the most
upstanding citizen we have. I did see a guy in Grammar Gulch with a profile
that was identical to doc and this guy Mr. Zep, but the fellow I saw was traveling
alone.”
“Well Mr. Gream, that cancels out Mr.
Zep and Doc. Hopefully he won’t decide to come here. I wonder who this vagabond
is.”
“I am not certain Mr. Mayor, but
Doc was enraged, and he will be here before long.”
“Good. Have him give the sheriff a
going over, and while he is at it, Mr. Zep and Mr. Bubb. Well…the skies are
clear, but I have the odd feeling that a thunderstorm is coming. I will see you
later in the town hall Mr. Gream.”
...
"Well Sheriff, Dubb is not exactly a hobo and I am not exactly a ranger. Dubb would have trouble with the law if he really was a hobo, and I would be working in some sort of zoo back east."
"Zeppo really is an animal expert, but the traveling bug is one animal he hasn't been able to classify as yet."
"Ranger Zeppo and Hobo Dubb, that has an interesting ring to it," the
sheriff replied lifting a biscuit with gravy on it to his mouth. "I have not been a church goer for many years because of how many times I have heard of fire and brimstone, so what you said about the dead and hell being a time more than a place intrigued me greatly. I am very interested in what you have to say tonight."
The sheriff had been right when he said that his deputy had been shorthanded and that his wife was a good cook. She had made scrambled eggs, biscuits and gravy, porridge and milk and fresh bread with butter honey and strawberry preserves.
"Well Sheriff, God is a God of love, and that excludes the idea that he would burn people forever in hell."
"I can relate to you Sheriff," Dubb replied. "Before I met Zeppo, or Zep, I was always angry with God over the issue of hell, and how He could be a God of love and roast people for eons, but Zep showed me the truth and we have been friends ever since. Now I know that my family is not suffering in heaven with the knowledge that I am suffering, and they are not in hell either. It relieves my mind a lot, and I have understood the Bible even better when it says He is a God of love."
"I reckon that the great liar would like for the stories of hell to be true, but he is not in charge of hell, and will be quickly exterminated by it when judgement day comes."
I was about to eat more of some delicious biscuit and gravy, so I felt it was right to compliment the cook, or the deputy's wife who was sitting at the table next to her husband and engrossed in our conversation.
"I want to say that your home cooking is first rate, dear madam. I don't know when I have had better."
I was seconded by Dubb who nodded and smiled but couldn't say anything.
"You are very welcome, and I know my husband is pleased to have more help in the livery stable. I guess we will call you guys Ranger Zeppo and Hobo Dubb.
