The Godz of Earth

I wuznt alwayz Zebediah Thomas. Zeb is my brotherz name, my name is Zach Packer. Zeb died before he had a chance to live.

When I wuz old enuff to understand, I asked my pappy to call me Zeb so my brother could live through me. This troubled him and we had many dayz of angry wordz.

On my tenth birthday I left home and never came back. That wuz the last birthday I ever had.

The lightz were givin me the fidgitz. I hollered out again, "Where am I?"

A voice called out, "Did you honor your mother and father?"

"Don’t see where thatz your lookout, but yep."

"Why do you say this after running away from them and never coming back?"

"My pappy once said that I should honor his word as long as I lived under his roof. When I felt like I couldn’t honor his word, I left. Now, where am I?"

"You are before the judgement seat of Christ."

"Figgered as much, then I have a few questions of that God feller."

An oldtimer stepped in out of the light, "Ask."

"Did you honor your children?" He grew tight-lipped then made a quick motion with his hand.

The old feller musta given me a sleepin shot cuz the next thing I knew, I wuz dreamin again.

The first few yearz on my own wuz tough. Did most of my eatin at the trash heaps or Id get lucky and steal somethin decent.

Bout the time my voice wuz changin I met an old fox that learned me flim-flammin. In them early days I managed to carry an air of innocence about me. I heard tell a sheriff had been on my tail for over a year, but he gave it up when he could get no one to complain. As one lady put it, "That sweet face could never do wrong."

I was livin in hog heaven.

The old feller wuz standin over me. "Thou shalt not steal," he boomed out.

"Thatz fair oldtimer, but I don’t see what thatz got to do with me. Caint hardly call it stealin when its somethin you need moren the onez who have it."

"What of the money you tricked from people? You didn’t need all you took."

"A wize man once said, 'A fool and his money are soon parted.' Seein thatz the case, why shouldn’t I help with the partin? You never did answer my question, pard."

He motioned again and I started another dream.

I just started gettin whiskerz the first time I went to war. Turned out I had a natural talent for it and the meals were mostly regular.

We were pinned down under heavy fire and the ole boy next to me was startin to go loco. He kept hollerin over and over, "Make it stop, god make it stop."

I hollered over, "You hit?"

He screamed. "Make it stop!"

I bellied over to him, "You don’t look hit, whatz the problem, feller?"

"I’m afraid."

"Hell, pard, all of us are skeered, so quit yer yammerin."

"If you wont stop it, I will." He jumped up from his hidey-hole and started runnin for the officerz tents. I didn’t like the looks of this so I follered.

He ripped open the flap of the first tent and filled the sleeperz full of lead before I could catch up. He was headin for the commanderz tent when I decided to step in.

I put the crazy ole coot out of his mizery.

"Thou shalt not kill."

"Whatz yer kill ratio old man?"

Again the motion that set me to dreamin.

I aint proud of this part of my life. The war ended with me in the hosypital with a shot to the leg.