- Story by Austin Siegemund-Broka, Grade 9
The businessman was in no mood for the Saint. One side of his coat weighed down, he walked briskly down the sidewalk, stopping at nothing. He scattered pigeons, frightened dogs, stumbled on cracks, and nearly plowed down children as he strode purposefully forward. Head bent, eyes moving back and forth and up and down, tongue darting out every so often, he moved ever closer to his office building, and to the turning point of his miserable life. The dread he felt was that of a child at the dentist's door.
So when a figure half-walked, half-stumbled up to him out of the cold sunlight, the businessman's pace only increased. Adorned with numerous cross necklaces and saint medallions, the trim figure was small, with straight, mussed up, short blond hair. His khaki pants ended a good inch before his socks began, and these led into running shoes that had clearly seen better times. His white shirt, advertising a "Northwood Community Church," was also a tad small, and displayed a rather impressive coffee stain.
"Hullo, good stranger!" the man shrilled in a distinctly western accent. He held out his hand, which the flustered businessman ran into, and quickly grabbed without looking. His thumb went the wrong way, into the other man's palm, and clumped his fingers up oddly. The figure was unperturbed, and sidestepped frantically to keep up with the businessman. "How's your day going? Seen any signs from the Lord?" asked the squeaky figure, and the businessman just blinked several times, shook his head, and fired his tongue around his mouth again. The other man tried a slightly different approach. "What's happening in your life?" This at least got the businessman to look at the short, blond stranger. Something about the odd little man almost made the businessman explain his situation; his wife desperately needed an operation to help her recover from a rare illness, that he couldn't scrape together the medical bill, that his child's school progress was descending as a result, and that the reason that one side of his coat was heavy wouldn't exactly benefit his roommate at the office. But that was a big almost, and the businessman merely grunted.
"I should probably explain. I'm from a program at my church, the Northwood Community Church, an' we're called the Saints. I guess that'd make me a Saint, huh?" The Saint exclaimed with pride, and elbowed the businessman. This drew no response, so the Saint continued. "Our program's aim is to emphasize the community part of our church, so we decided to just go out on the street like this and talk to people, try to involve them in our big happy church family, you know?"
The businessman did not know. It had been a long time since he had seen, or used, the words happy and family within at least two paragraphs. He merely grunted again. "Not a very talkative fellow, are you?" asked the Saint, and the businessman grunted again. The Saint knew there was some irony in that, he just couldn't draw it together into one coherent sentence. Thus he continued on. "Come to think of it, our church is in a bit of trouble. We're desperately in need of refurbishment." It seemed that the Saint was pacified for a moment, staring glumly at the ground. Of course, this was not the case. In seconds his odd little head bobbed up, plastered with the familiar, bordering-insane grin."Play any sports?"
At last, this drew something from the businessman. "Golf now. Basketball in high school." The Saint barely contained his excitement.
"Yeah, you look like the basketball type." Thus the questions continued for, as the businessman saw as he frequently looked at his watch, approximately three minutes and eighteen seconds. Then the Saint touched a nerve. "How's your family?"
The businessman swallowed, and glanced at the beaming figure. His confidence in the strange little man had grown, and he said as much as "My wife's sick. I need to get some money for an operation for her." The Saint's grin disappeared, and his eyes bulged in his tiny ovular head. "Oh, that's terrible. You can look to Jesus, you know. Say, what's your wife's name?" The businessman raised an eyebrow.
"Marie. Marie Daniels. Why?" The Saint merely tapped his nose.
"I'll see if we can do something about your little predicament. Why, how about I buy you a drink?" They had reached a little Starbucks cart, and the Saint promptly purchased a Frappucino. He offered it to the businessman, who just waved his hand. The Saint shrugged, as if to say "suit yourself," and held onto the napkin wrapped around the drink.
"You know what?" The Saint looked up at the businessman. "You look like you need a bit more of a relationship with God." The businessman raised an eyebrow again, and began eyeing the Frappucino. "Mind if I write down my church's name? You could, you know, get involved or something. We have all sorts of terrific programs. Say, you could be a Saint too!" The little man shared a laugh with himself, and pulled out a pen. He crouched down, and the businessman found himself stopping to wait. On the napkin that had been wrapped around the drink, the Saint wrote out his church's name, and proudly presented it to the businessman, who indifferently crammed it into his heavy coat pocket.
The businessman glanced at the drink again, almost forgetting the weight in his pocket. Finally, temptation overcame him and he gingerly pulled it from the Saint's fingers. The odd little man just smiled inwardly and said, "Enjoy."
This is the 12th piece of student writing in a string of two straight weeks of student writing!
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