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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Write in the HUMOR genre (04/12/07)

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• TITLE: The Rev'rend Makes a Sick Call | Previous Challenge Entry
  By Virginia Lee Bliss
  04/17/07
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The Rev’rend was makin’ his way to Martha’s place. She’d sent word that her brother done took sick.

Seein’ as the town couldn’t raise enough taxes to pay a boni-fied physician, the Rev’rend doubled as healer and preacher. Kept him mighty busy. Well what else could you expect from a town with a name like Poorhouse?

The Rev’rend had always been a mite partial to Martha and her kin. Martha often took to worryin’ too much, but her heart was right where it oughtta be. Always served the best vittles and kept her house real nice. Right neighborly too—always willin’ to lend a hand. Yep. Martha and her kin were real fine folk and he was more than glad to help ‘em out if he could.

Well the Rev’rend arrived at Martha’s doorstep and sure enough if she don’t come out and give him a piece of her mind.

“Where you bin these last four days, Rev’rend?! My brother done took ill and then up and died on us.”

“Mighty sorry, Martha. I bin tied up.”

“Well now dat your here, why don’t you sit and rest a spell. How ‘bout some grits and biscuits with all the fixin’s.”

“Don’t mine if I do. Thank you kindly.”

So the Rev’rend set himself down and enjoyed Martha’s cookin’.

“You say your brother’s bin dead fer four days?”

“Yep.”

“Where’d y’all put him?”

“Out yonder in them there cavern.”

“Well, why don’t we take a stroll out there.”

Martha’s no good lazy sister was sittin’ watchin’ her brother and prayin’ over him. When the Rev’rend approached she done got to her feet.

“Ain’t no call to stand on ceremony,” said the Rev’rend. “I’m jest the village preacher.”

“He sure do stink to high heaven, Rev’rend. Seein’ as he’s bin dead four days.” said Martha.

“I don’t smell nuthin’. Are ya sure he ain’t jest sleepin’?”

“Sleepin! Ain’t never knowd nobody to sleep dat long. Longest I ever heard anybody sleepin’ is when old Jake claimed he’d been talkin’ to angels.”

“Well we’ll jest see how he’s doin’.”

The Rev’rend went into the cavern.

He set down next to Martha’s brother and reached fer his pulse.

“Yep, dead as a doornail.”

“Is zat all you gotta say? ‘Course he’s dead. When he done took sick you weren’t nowhere ‘round.”

“Now hold your horses, Martha. I said he’s dead but that don’t mean he’s gonna stay dead.”

“Of course he ain’t gonna stay dead. We’re all gonna rize on the last day. I know dat. My lazy good for nuthin’ sister know zat. But right now he’s dead and there’s fields to plow, wood to chop, lambs to slaughter….”

Martha’s complainin’ was interrupted by a loud noise.

“Laws a’ mercy, a herd of wild mules done stampedin’ by. Enough to wake the dead. What was zat you said Rev’rend?”

“Who zat who jest called my name?” asked a voice.

“Laws a’ mercy, brother! Is zat you?”

“Well it ain’t the Emperor of Rome.”

“Well praise be!” cried his sisters.

“You bin dead these last four days and I done woke you up,” explained the Rev’rend.

“Well that’s right neighborly of you, Rev’rend. I didn’t hold none with bein’ dead.”

“I think my work here’s done. So I best be on my way. Thank ye kindly for your hospitality.”

“Be seein’ ya Rev’rend. We’re much obliged to ya.”

After the Rev’rend left the brother cried.

“Holy jumpin’ catfishes! Martha! Mary! The Rev’rend done rized me from the dead! He’s the Lawd God hisself.”

“Amen to that Lazarus!”


REFERENCE: John 11:1-45

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