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Fiction by Robert Phillips

Mistaken Rapture

Two men sat before a police officer's desk in a small Southeast Texas town. The office was dusty, the only decorations Most-Wanted ads taped to the walls and, despite the fact it was late spring, an artificial Christmas wreath over the door. A ceiling fan slowly turned. It sounded as if it needed oil. In the air there was the sour odor of mouse turds.

The police officer was red-faced and beefy, a roll of fat overhanging the blue collar of his shirt. His hair was a buzz-cut from the Fifties. Even though it was two in the afternoon, he smelled of beer.

One of the men before the desk, black, middle-aged, balding and in faded bib overalls, looked distraught. He had been crying. His eyes were red. They looked like markings for the Interstate highways on a roadmap. The other was much younger, white, composed. He had on a long white robe and wore his hair like Jesus wore it. He had a beard and moustache. His name was Clarence, but he hated it. What's the nickname for Clarence, Glare? It reminded him of Clarabelle, some clown on a TV show from his childhood.

The middle-aged man, named Bevel, spoke. "It was all a mistake."

"I surely hope so," said the officer, named Jefferson. "A big mistake. Do you know how big?"

"I saw all the cars."

"There are twenty-one vehicles piled up out on that highway. It's gonna take all afternoon just to clear that road. We only got us three tow trucks in this town. And sixteen people were injured while trying to avoid hitting your wife."

"It was all a big mistake," Bevel repeated.

"Just what in hell was she doing, sitting smack in the middle of that road?" the officer asked, pulling a lined yellow pad from his desk drawer. He poised his pen to take notes.

"Well, we were just driving along, fixing to go to Luby's for lunch. That's our weekly treat. Luby's has the best meatloaf anywhere around. And free biscuits with gravy. My wife's partial to meatloaf. I mean, she was." Bevel fell silent in respect for the newly-departed.

"Go on," Jefferson said.

"Well, it was a beautiful day, just a bit of a breeze, so I slid open the Toyota's sunroof."

"Get to the point. What was your wife doing in the middle of the highway?"

"Hold your horses, I'm telling you. My wife looked out and saw what she thought was people floating up into the air."

"People? Floating?" Jefferson s pen stopped. He exhaled beer-breath.

"Yes sir. Hosts of white folks ascending to Heaven."

"What the hell?²

"This gentleman here can explain that. We talked about it while waiting for the coroner and the police to show up. Anyhow, while these bodies were ascending--and they were ascending--we passed this young gentleman on the side of the road. My wife took one look at him and started shouting, "He's back! He's back!² And before I could stop her, she climbed right out the sunroof and jumped off the top of the car. I must have been doing fifty at the time. I started slowing down, but she wouldn't wait until I pulled over and stopped. No sir. You see, she thought he was Jesus.

Jefferson looked at the young man. "I can see why she might think so." The young man blushed like a schoolgirl.

"Ruthann loved Jesus more than anything in this world. She was a lay reader in our church, taught Sunday school to little ones every Sunday of the world, never missed a covered-dish supper. Always took her famous chicken)fried in Crisco and rolled in Rice Krispies. The Lord never gave us any children, so she had lots of time for church. When she saw this young man on the side of the road, with his arms held up high, she was convinced the rapture was occurring."

Jefferson said, "The rapture?"

"We'd talked about it lots in the past, the rapture. She liked to quote the Book of Isaiah, Chapter 14, Verses 13 and 14: ŒFor thou has said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God, I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north--"

"I get it, I get it," said Jefferson, tapping his pen upon the desktop.

"I wasn't quite done. There's verse 14 still to come: ŒI will ascend above the clouds; I will be like the most high. Amen.¹²

"Can we get on with it?"

"Surely. So there was Jesus on the roadside, with lots of white folks floating into the air. A flock of white folks with no clothes on. They looked white as slices of Wonderbread. Communion at our church is Wonderbread and Welch's grape juice. I'm convinced she thought Jesus was gonna lift her up into the sky, too. Like the others. I just know it. She couldn't wait. She had her strong Christian faith. She won all gold stars in Vacation Bible School. Memorized the names of all the Books of the Bible from beginning to end."

"This is the strangest thing I've ever heard of since I've been on the force, "Jefferson said. "And I've seen a lot of strange things. Why, just last week, we had us a two-headed--"

"I saw a two-headed calf at the county fair,² Clarence offered. "But I think one of the heads was fake. Looked like paper-mache to me.²

A tabby cat wandered into the room, pissed against the far wall, and left.

Bevel continued. "Makes me wonder if she thought there was a Heaven for white people and a Heaven for blacks. Probably that thought occurred to her, it all happened so fast. She saw all those lily-white, blond bodies ascending. Anyhow, it puzzles me how she got out that sunroof so fast. From the time she hollered "He's back!" to the time she popped out, it took no time at all, stripping off all her clothes as she went. Her brassiere landed half across my face, I could of had an accident right then and there. ŒThe Blessed Redeemer!¹ was the last thing I heard her say."

Jefferson turned to the younger man. "Do you always dress like this?" He gestured toward the young man's flowing white robe.

"No, sir.² His voice trembled like a musical saw.

"Then perhaps you'd be kind enough to explain why you were on the side of the road, decked-out such as you are today?"

"I was on my way to a toga party."

The officer sighed. "Another goddamn toga party at the college? There's always some problems with them."

"Me and my fraternity brothers were holding this toga party starting this afternoon. I guess it won't come off, now. In light of the tragedy, I wonder who'll get to keep the keg?"

"Just what exactly is a toga party, anyhow?"

"It's just a bunch of guys who dress up in costumes and smoke, get drunk and fool around. Something to do on a Saturday night. Not much else to do around here, in case you hadn't noticed."

"And what exactly is it you guys smoke?" the officer asked.

"Just cigarettes. Mostly Camels, some Luckies."

"I'll bet." Suspicion hung in the air like the sweet odor of pot.

"Since people have told me I look like Jesus, I decided to put on this sheet and rope belt and sandals."

"Sure, you look like Jesus. I can see that. Anybody with two eyes can see that. But what about all those people being lifted into the sky? The so-called rapture? Can you explain that? Do you go around performing miracles?"

"Heck, no. It wasn't any rapture or miracle."

"Then what in hell was it?"

The Jesus look-alike cleared his throat and said, "Oh, shit. I was driving along the highway, listening to Kinky Friedman on the radio."

"What was Kinky singing?"

"¹Drop Kick Me, Jesus, Through the Goal Posts of Life.¹²

"I like that tune. Go on."

"I was driving along, when the tarp over the bed of my pickup came loose. The rope must have given away. Before I knew it, all twelve of those dolls were floating out of the truck."

"Dolls? Floating?"

"Yes sir. They were filled with helium."

Jefferson wrote furiously on his pad, then looked up. "What kind of dolls would that be?"

The Jesus look-alike blushed again. "Sex dolls, sir. They were supposed to be part of the party. The grand finale, you might say. They all looked like Marilyn Monroe. In the past I got all different-looking dolls, but that led to a little trouble when one brother found another in bed with his doll. I figure if they all look alike, we wouldn't have any of that."

"And just what were you doing standing on the side of the road?"

"I had pulled over, got out, hoping to retrieve those dolls. But when I saw they were all gone--floating way up in the air-I lifted up my arms in frustration and yelled, "Y all come back down here!" But it was too late, they were gone. That was when this gentleman¹s Toyota passed me, and his wife did what it was she did, and the cars did what it was they did to her."

"She loved Jesus better than anything in this world," Bevel intoned. "Better than me, better than Fluffy, our cat."

"I guess I should shave off my beard and cut my hair, now," the young man said. He stroked his beard. It sounded like a dry Brillo pad.

"Just exactly what do you do with a sex doll, anyhow?" asked Jefferson, who had led a sheltered life. He still lived at home with his mother. He wondered, Was there a hole? Maybe there were three holes? If so, how do you keep all that helium in?²

"The best ones come with vibrators in all the right places," the Jesus look-alike smirked. "It's called mounting inflation."

No one laughed. The three of them sat, inhaling the odors of dust, mouse turds, cat piss, burnt boiled-over coffee from the unattended coffeemaker. Somewhere a dozen Marilyn Monroes shimmied in the blue sky.

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