by James Ross
“Ya make sho’ dat you’s leave dat doo-rag sittin’ on da seat!” LeVournique yelled at her husband. “You’s looks mighty fine wit’ dat hat ons yo’ head!” Tuey flashed his happy attitude toward LeVournique. He started up the engine, waved to his wife and pulled down the street.
Tuey made his way through the streets of Wiebbey Bottom until he approached the metal building that housed Nehemiah’s Neighbors Have Arisen. Outside along the shoulder of the road sat a sign on the metal tripod trailer that read “Stop In If You Aspire To Inspire Befo You Expire.” Tuey violently shook his head up and down as the words soaked in. I’s likes da way dat dey put dat, he thought. Maybe dis’ll be uh good place ta start uh comin’.
D. Wayne Smith, dressed in a maroon satin robe with black satin lapels, stood by the front door and awaited his arrival. When he saw Tuey’s truck enter the gravel parking lot he walked out to welcome his friend. “I’m glad that you finally made it. I was hopin’ that you’d give us a try.”
“Wit’ aw uh dose problems dat I’s havin’ wit’ dose fokes down dere at da city hall, I’s figgas dat I’s might as well git my butt ova here an’ git sum uh dese peoples uh prayin’ fo’ me.”
“We sure will make sure of that,” D. Wayne responded. “I made sure that Reverend Puld will bring special attention to your situation.”
“Wells you’s dint have ta go out uh yo’ way ta do dat fo’ me.”
“We’d like to help you Tuey. You know how the power of prayer can be,” D. Wayne rationalized. “Come on in.” D. Wayne opened the front door and led his friend into the church. A sign on the door noted that Reverend Ostrahemial Puld was officiating. “We’ve got a chair reserved for you in the front row.”
“I’s sho’ do hope dat it’s cooler inside dan it is out here.” The August heat was sweltering and it was only mid-morning. “Duz ya have sum air conditionin’?” Tuey took a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at the sweat that was beading on his forehead.
“We don’t have the money fo’ that but we have a couple of those big fans that circulate the air,” D. Wayne pointed out.
“Whew weeeeeeeeee,” Tuey sighed. “Den make sho’ dat my spot’s right in front uh one uh dem dere fans. Uh big boy likes me needs dat cool breeze.” He flashed his gap-toothed smile at D. Wayne.
D. Wayne grinned back at his friend. “Don’t you worry none. We’re gonna make you feel comfortable.” He led Tuey down the center aisle toward the pulpit area of the small church. “If it gets too hot in here fo’ you then maybe we’ll get you to take a swim.” He motioned toward the area where the baptismal pool was located.
“No, no, no, we’s don’t needs ta do dat taday,” Tuey said as he backed off of the issue about the heat. D. Wayne positioned his friend right in front of one of the large floor fans that was circulating the air through the room. “Now dat’s more like it.” Tuey reached up, removed his brown hat, and placed it on his lap as he took a seat in the pew.
“Just sit tight. The service will be starting shortly.” D. Wayne nodded at his friend and headed to a room off to the side of the pulpit. The congregation had filled the pews and a few stragglers moseyed through the front door. The women wore vibrant colored dresses and completed their wardrobe with fancy, colorful hats and matching purses. The men sashayed to their seats and nodded their heads agreeably to the conversation around them. As the crowd packed into the church Tuey was grateful that D. Wayne had placed him in front of the fan. One hundred percent of the congregation was African-American. Aw uh dems peoples gotsta be miserable in aw uh dis heat.
“All rise!” came a shout from the rear of the pulpit. The parishioners scrambled to their feet.
A small figure dressed in similar garb to D. Wayne appeared, strolled across the pulpit, and positioned himself behind the lectern. In a deep, rich voice Reverend Ostrahemial Puld shouted, “Praise da Laaaaawwwwwd!” The words took forever to drawl out of his mouth.
The congregation followed in unison by pronouncing “Amen!” with a long A.
The preacher yelled once again. His voice reverberated through the building and bounced off of the metal walls. “Have meeeerrrrcy on you!”
Once again an “Amen” came from the congregation. The organist struck the keyboard and a hymn blared throughout the church. The predominantly female choir marched down the center aisle. They were all dressed in purple satin robes with gold satin lapels. The entire congregation joined in the singing of the hymn and was moved by the music. As the opening song wrapped up, the members of the choir assumed their seats on one side of the pulpit. The congregation took their seats.
“Befo’ we begin wit’ da lesson of da day,” Reverend Puld began, “we must take action to care fo’ one of our own!”
Members of the congregation, with pouting lower lips and sad-sack eyes like a Basset hound, followed with an, “Ummmm hmmmm.”
“It is time fo’ an altar call!” Reverend Puld hollered out.
Once again an, “Ummmm hmmmm,” was voiced in unison by the congregation.
“Would Alverthious Jones please come to da altar?” the preacher asked in a demanding voice. A woman in her mid-twenties walked down the center aisle from the front door of the church. Following her, dressed in maroon satin robes with black satin lapels, were two deacons of the church. The trio stopped in front of Reverend Puld. The girl looked frightened. “Alverthious Jones, it is time to cleanse yo’ body of yo’ evil ways and purify yo’ skin and soul! Bring yo’ body forward fo’ this altar call!”
The congregation followed with, “Ummmm hmmmm!”
The side door of the church had been cracked open. D. Wayne was holding a garden hose that had been hooked up to the outside faucet. He was filling the remaining space in the baptismal pool. The tub itself was hidden behind a section of the altar and it was unknown how much more water was needed to make it deep enough to submerge a body. The young woman waited tenuously as D. Wayne completed the task at hand. “The anointment is ready,” he pronounced.
“Complete with da cleansin’ oil as required by da scripture?” the reverend questioned.
“The solution is prepared,” D. Wayne confirmed. Tuey was wide-eyed in the front row. The young woman was petrified.
Reverend Puld shouted, “Bring fo’th Averthious Jones!” The two deacons grabbed her by each elbow and marched her to the baptismal pool. After an awkward moment Alverthious was standing in thigh-high water, or at least that was what appeared to the congregation. Reverend Puld climbed two stairs so that he stood above the woman. “You have recognized yo’ ways?” Alverthious nodded her head up and down. “I can’t hear you! Fo’ da process to be complete you must answer in voice!”
“Yessir,” Alverthious meekly replied.
“And you have made it yo’ given wish to repent?”
“Yessir.”
“And with this event you will change yo’ behavior?”
“Yessir.”
“Cleanse yo’ body and soul!” With a swift move Reverend Puld took one arm and placed it behind Alverthious’ back and another over her face. Before anyone could comprehend what he was going to do he dunked her in the water until her entire body was submerged. In a matter of three seconds it was all over and she was standing back on her feet, soaking wet. “Do I have a roomful of witnesses to this event?”
The congregation once again in unison recited, “Ummmm hmmmm.”
D. Wayne spouted out, “Can anybody give me an Amen?”
“Amen!” reverberated through the building as the congregation shouted out a response to the deacon.
Not satisfied with the volume of the comeback D. Wayne raised the volume in his voice. “Can anybody give me an Amen?”
The Congregated howled out in unison. “Amen!”
The organist pounded out a song on the keyboard. The deacons helped Alverthious out of the pool and handed her towels to dry off. Within a few more seconds the congregation was singing, “Aaaaaaamen! Aaaaaaaaamen! Aaaamen, aaamen, amen.”
; D. Wayne yelled out, “Hallelujah!”
The congregation and chorus resumed. “Aaaaaaaamen! Aaaaaaaaamen! Aaaamen, aaamen, amen.”
“Hallelujah!”
“Aaaaaaaamen! Aaaaaaaamen! Aaaamen, aaamen, amen.”
“Hallelujah!”
Tuey was wiped out. Even though the fan was blowing air squarely in his direction he reached into his pocket, grabbed his handkerchief once again, and dabbed at the perspiration that had formed on his forehead. The event had caused his heart to race as if it were the electric current energizing the fan.
Alverthious Jones quickly scurried off of the pulpit. Reverend Puld assumed his spot behind the lectern. “Our next order of business is to welcome a friend of D. Wayne’s into our house of worship!” the reverend blared to the worshippers. “Can I hear an Amen?”
With a long-sounding A the parishioners whaled back, “Amen!” It was followed by an, “Ummm, hmmm.”
“Please welcome Tuey O’Tweety.” A hot rush flowed through Tuey’s veins. “Please step to da altar.” Tuey hesitated for an instant thinking that he might have the same fate as the young woman before him. D. Wayne motioned to him that it was okay. Slowly Tuey moved to the altar and faced the congregation. “Mr. O’Tweety has been experiencin’ some awful times,” the preacher expounded. “D. Wayne has extended da arms of da congregation to reach out and help this man through da power of prayer. Can I hear an Amen?”
“Amen!”
“All rise!” Everyone in the room rose to their feet. Tuey bowed his head. “Please grab da hand of yo’ neighbor,” the reverend ordered. “All bow yo’ heads in prayer.” The heads in the room tilted downward. “May da Laaaaawwwwwd our Savior care fo’ our new friend and watch over his mind and soul. May all of da evil surrounding him disappear. Please Laaaaawwwwwd grant Tuey O’Tweety da wisdom of da owl in da reincarnation of life . . . past, present, and future. Make him wise in all of his dealings with da evil circumstances surrounding him. Please Dear Laaaaaawwwwwd give Tuey O’Tweety da strength, compassion, patience, and most of all da wisdom of the owl to deal with those parts of life with which he has no control. In our Savior’s name. Amen!”
“Amen!” the worshippers followed.
Slowly Tuey raised his head and peered at the parishioners. A giant tear rolled down his cheek. As if the weight of the world had been lifted off of his shoulders, he broke into a smile that beamed from cheek to cheek. He had finally met a group that cared.
“Praise da Laaaaawwwwd and have mercy on you!” Reverend Puld announced.
“Have mercy on you,” Tuey whispered in a voice that was barely audible.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“What the hell is going on over there?” Harold demanded of Yuuto. The lava that generally poured through the banker’s vein was bubbling out of his pores.
The Japanese businessman was in a semi-panic state of mind. The confrontation with the banker was causing a mild panic attack. “Me dunno. Duh Nikkei stopped aw twading uh duh stock,” he blurted.
“You’re not telling me anything that I don’t already know!” Harold screamed. Ricki Sandstoner could hear her boss’s yells through the closed door to his private office. “I want to know what the hell happened. I wanted to get the stock sold today and have the funds back in my account this afternoon!” He was scared to death that Mrs. Harris would notice that some of her funds were missing. That, plus the forged signature on the wire transfer authorization form, could land him in prison if the examiners poked around and started asking too many questions.
Yuuto figured that he would smile, nod his head frontward and backwards, and act like the language barrier was too severe to overcome. He thought that if he placed his front teeth over his lower lip he might get a bit of sympathy from the banker. “Me fine out duh pwobwem.”
“And get me my money back! I thought you knew what was going to take place.”
“Me aw-ways have befo’.”
“Get me an answer! I need to get those funds back!” Harold was panicking. “Have you any ideas what might have happened?”
“Perhaps accounting ear-weguwarities.”
“Accounting irregularities?” Yuuto smiled and nodded. “How the hell could that happen at this stage of the deal?”
“Due diwigence.”
“I think that you know a helluva lot more about this mess than what you’re letting on! After all, it’s your family, isn’t it?”
“Ah so, yes.” Yuuto nodded his head, smiled, and once again placed his upper row of teeth over his lower lip. He smiled and nodded his head a second time. And a third.
Harold punched a few buttons on his keyboard and started reading about the company in the news that was being released from the Nikkei exchange. “Right now the stock is down thirty percent in one day!” His ire was off the chart as his face reddened. Harold buried his face in his hands, not knowing how to think through the disastrous events of the morning. He turned back to the monitor and read some more. “It says that executives from your family’s company were busted by the regulators for filing false financial documents with the government commission over there! How the hell can that be?”
“Me dunno. Me in duh dark too.”
“Well dammit! Find something out!” Harold returned to the screen and read some more. “It goes on to say that all trading in the stock has been stopped indefinitely due to the accounting improprieties.” He glared at Yuuto. “I can’t even get my money out of the stock at a loss,” Harold screamed.
Yuuto took the low-key approach. “Saw-wee.”
“Sorry!” Harold got up and paced across the floor of his office. “I’ve got a quarter of a million dollars over there in what I thought would be a one or two day trade!” He returned to the monitor of his computer and read some more. “Now they’re saying that the government has opened an investigation into insider trading!”
“Me will have to fine out what’s going on.”
“I would think so! I can’t afford to have my money tied up in another country indefinitely. And I don’t want any red flags pointing to us taking advantage of information that the public didn’t know about!”
“Too late fo’ dat.” Yuuto smiled and placed his upper teeth over his lower lip.
The brief comment infuriated the banker. “Get out of here!” Harold demanded. For a little guy his temper was lion sized.
“We made money befo’,” Yuuto blurted as he got up from his seat.
“And it won’t come near to covering the loss on this trade!” Harold opened his office door. “Go! Get out of here! Find some answers for me!” With his shoulders slumped and his face staring at the patterns in the carpet, Yuuto slithered out the door. With his head bowed he slinked past Ricki, giving her a quick sideways glance and subtle nod. Harold slammed the door shut. “Dammit!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. I knew better than to trust some foreigner, he thought as he returned to his computer to read more about the goings on in Japan. Now what am I going to do? I need to come up with something in a hurry to get that money back in the old lady’s account.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The clock on the dashboard indicated that it was three forty-nine in the morning. The two figures tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible, but the fact that their car was just about the only one on the road was concern enough.
“Now, you’re absolutely sure there’s no alarm on the building, right?” the passenger asked as he revisited the topic a third time.
“We don’t have to worry about that. The coast is clear. Just get in there, do your thing, and I’ll be back around to get you in a few minutes,” the driver assured.
A thin layer of fog made driving perilous. It also served as a bit of camouflage in the event anyone needed to provide details. As the vehicle rounded a bend it slowed. The lights were on low beam for better visibility. Within a few seconds a sign on wheels came into view. The letters spelled: Stop In If You Aspire To Inspire Befo You Expire.
The car inched to a stop. “I’ll be do
ne in a couple of minutes.” In a flash the passenger hopped out. He was dressed in black trousers, black sweatshirt, and black stocking hat. He carried a small satchel filled with tools. As quickly as the car stopped it lurched forward and pulled out of sight. The man crept across the grounds and made his way to the side door. With lightning quickness he jimmied the lock and was inside the building.
His flashlight illuminated a lectern, the pulpit, and baptismal pool. Rows and rows of pews sat empty. In the corner he noticed a door that appeared to be a utility closet. Ah, right where they told me it would be. Hurriedly the intruder ran to the room and entered. The electric panel was positioned on the wall, exactly where he was told it would be.
Years of experience hot wiring vehicles was about to be put to use. The intruder popped open the fuse box. The flashlight was positioned on his right shoulder and held in place by trapping it between his collarbone and right cheek. With a screwdriver he located the ground, quickly replaced a circuit breaker, and popped a penny in the box for good measure. A sizzling sound was detected. As quickly as he entered, he was back out the side door. Seconds later a car approached, slowed, and the intruder hopped in.
“You’re quick,” the driver admitted.
‘You know we filled the lot like that one time.” He laughed at the deftness of his deeds. “It was starting to sizzle when I turned and left.”
“How much time?’
“It won’t be long. That current should fry those wires. I’ll be surprised if we don’t hear some sirens by the time we get back.”
Minutes later, the metal building known as Nehemiah’s Neighbors Have Arisen was a blazing inferno. Flames shot higher than the treetops. The intense heat melted the fragile frame. The warmth of the fire slowly melted the letters on the portable tripod trailer. Sirens wailed in the distance.
“No way they’ll be able to trace that to arson?” the driver asked as the car came to a stop.
