A small parable

(noon – promoted by Nightprowlkitty)

There once was a man who tied me to a railroad track and chuckled, evilly as he departed, that there was nothing I could do to stop him, and that a train was going to run over me in a most gruesome way.

As I lie there, thinking of my own demise, another man came, and told me that he wanted in his heart of hearts to save me from that gruesome demise, but it would only be possible for him to save me if I supported his election with a donation, because he would have to be the Sheriff in order to be authorized to cut the Offical Handcuffs the bandit used to bind me to the tracks.

“There’s a $20 in my pocket, I gasped, desperately.  Take it, get elected, but for god’s sake, get back here and save me, please!

Some time passed, and it was a hot sunny day, and I realized that before the train was going to run over me and realize my intended gruesome demise, I would die of thirst and wouldn’t feel the pain of the railroad wheels cutting my frail body in three pieces.

As my vision blurred from thirst and hunger, and just as I was about to go under forever, the second man returned, with a shiny gold star on his shirt.

“Here,” he said, lowering a bottle to my face and splashing it with clear, cold water out of a canteen.  I slurped eagerly at the wet salvation.  “I also brought some food,” he said.  “Slowly, slowly,” he admonished me as my teeth gnashed at the sandwich he held up to my face, as my hands were tied to my sides and I could only move my fingers a millimeter or two.  “You are going to need your strength”.

“Thank God!” I yelled.  “Now, untie me, and we can both get out of here before the train arrives or the Evil Man returns!”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” the Sherrif said dolefully.  “You see, the Evil Man you speak of, he is a member of the Town Council, and has the Official Handcuff Key in a safe.”

“What the fuck?!”  I screamed.  “Just get any old bolt cutters and get me out of here!”

“Well, again, not that simple.  I’m afraid you may have had unrealistic expectations.  You see, if I use any but the Official Handcuff Key, the Town Council will relieve me of my duties, and there are so many other people I can save. I’m afraid you will have to wait a little longer until I convince the Town Council to give me the key”.

“What?!  You’re the SHERIFF!  The key is yours by right of your position!” I pleaded, trying to reason with this man.

“Yes, but, the Evil Man, you see, made me promise that if I were to get the key, and free you, he could then burn you at the stake or boil you in acid instead.  And he has influence with other members of the Council, and they agreed that these were the conditions of getting the key!”

“And what if you just set me free and let me leave?  They’d never find me!”

“Again, I’d lose my job for using the key not in accordance with the wishes of the Town Council, and the chance to save and help so many others.”

“If this Town Council refuses to let you have a key to free an innocent man, what the fuck good are they anyway?” I screamed.  “Do you think they are going to let you use the key to do any good for anyone else, anyway!”

“Good point,” the Sherrif said, putting his hand to his brow.  He screwed up his face thoughtfully, seeming at an impasse.

“Well, go back and get the bolt cutters then!  They’d never have to know.  I’ll be run over by the train if you don’t!”

“Okay,” the Savior Man said.  “This may take some time, you know, to find the right bolt-cutters, and I’ll have to move by night, lest they discover me helping you.”

“I could be dead by then!”  I screeched.  But all the Savior man did was nod.

As he turned to go, the spurs of his boot caught on the railroad track.  

He struggled mightily and long to free himself, but the boot was too tight, he could not get loose, and being a somewhat portly man, he could not reach down or kneel down, no matter what he did, he could not reach the spur.  The spur was right next to my fingers.  Finally, panting with a red face, he turned to me, and said, “If you could just use your finger to play with the spur, I could get loose and come back and free you.”

“Now, if I did that,” I said, suddenly overcome with malice, “you might move too soon, and injure my finger, and what good would that do anybody?”

“Fuck your finger!” the man screamed.  “I’m the Sherrif!  I am here to save you!  It is your obligation to aid your Sherrif when he calls on you to do your duty!  The train is coming!  If you don’t act, it’ll run over us both!”

“So it will,” I said, “So it will.”