~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 wirst sort of screeching, bellowing and carrying on you kin 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 fer 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 when I seen 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 ahead of us ‘bout ahalf mile.
Who was doing all the yelling, and why was everybody running everwhere like they were on fire? I did’nt see smoke anywhere. As we plodded on and got closer, we begun to git a better view though Dubb began to get even more antsy.
“Great goons Zep! Is everyone in that thare 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 um climbing trees.”
We was getting closer to the town ever 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 kin 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 peril 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. 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 fer 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 fer 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 shore 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 aw ell 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 toke 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 Lifegiver calls fer them to wake up.”
The townsfolk seemed to lose their fear of their Sherrif 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 lifegiver 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, fer 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 townsfolks 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. Kin 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. Kin 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 fer ever and ever. Smoke from the towns of Sodom and Gomorrah. They went up like a barbeque, only there weren’t anything left except fer ashes. Kin you’ll all turn to Jude 1:7? Sherriff, could you read that fer 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 fer shore, is that the Bible don t disagree with itself. Isaiah 28 and verse 10 bears this out. Jude 1:7 talks ‘bout eternal fire and Revelation 14:11 talks ‘bout 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 kin conclude with reasonable certainty is that eternal fire don’t go on ferever, 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 were actually put together and repeated by the Pharisees and religious leaders of His day before He done told it in Luke 16, verses 19 thru 31. His point of repeating that there parable was so that them people should listen to them 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 here story wasn’t His affirmation of hell. The religious leaders of His time in some ways stopped believing in what’d been passed down by their forefathers regarding what the Bible and Old Testament say ‘bout death and judgement.
Many of them religious leaders in and before the Lord’s time had dropped the banner 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 Sherrif. 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 kin 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. Sherrif. 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 Sherrif, 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 sherriff,” 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 townsfolks 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, Sherrif. 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 Sherrif, 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 shore the 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.”
