Repent, Ye....

Alright - so My Pilot and I went into town this afternoon. I had to meet with the DA regarding a murder trial, but that's another story altogether. My Pilot and I stopped at Mickey D's for lunch. As we pulled in to the parking lot, My Pilot discovered that his favorite end parking spot was occupied. By a big, white, late-model pickup truck emblazoned with a passage from Psalms - something about the wicked being cast into hell. The tailgate boasted letters at leas a full foot tall - REPENT in red writing. The driver's side had much smaller script with the name and address of the church with which the vehicle was associated. Advertising, I suppose. Well, ok. I tend to hold my faith a bit closer to my heart, but whatever. If a person has that sort of conviction and strength of belief, that's fine.

I said to My Pilot, "I bet you ten dollars I can guess who belongs to that truck." "OK," he said.

We entered the McDonald's - there were the usual mid-day moms of toddlers, a few construction worker types in line, and one old crotchety-looking guy in a khaki parka, plaid shirt and Lee jeans. I nudged My Pilot - that must be him. He agreed.

We ordered, got our goodies, sat down and at. The suspected owner of the Repent-mobile was seated in the same section. When he finished his Daily Bread, he rose from the table, turned, and troddled off to the men's room. He left his tray. Well, ok. Maybe he'll clear his debris when he returns from the bathroom. I nudged My Pilot and said, "I bet you five dollars he leaves it all sitting right there."

"I bet you're right."

"What would Jesus do?"

"Huh?"

"I dare you to say that to him. I believe in my heart Jesus would not leave his garbage behind for someone else to clean up."

My Pilot rolled his eyes and sipped the last bits of soda from the cup.

Crotchety man emerged from the bathroom. He stopped at his table, picked up some wrappers that had fallen from the tray. Then he picked up his cup. The holier-than-everyone son of a gun was going to leave his litter behind!

He took three steps toward the door.
"Jesus would have taken his tray," My pilot said, barely above regular speaking level.

"He didn't hear you," I whispered.

But wait...Mr. Crotchety halted in his tracks, stepped backward three steps, picked up the tray and proceeded to the waste bin.

I about fell out of my chair.

He dumped his tray, turned toward the door, and fixed My Pilot and me with a distinctly MENACING GAZE.

Then into his Repent-mobile and off he drove. To continue spreading his unsolicited message to all he passes on the road. And the wicked shall be cast into hell.

But I bet the next time he stops for lunch, he clears his tray without being reminded.

High fives all around.

And another thing - I am quite certain that the Jesus I know not only would always clear his own debris, but also would not drive a two-ton four wheel drive pickup truck with REPENT stenciled across the back. I suppose I could be wrong- but I doubt it.