The
Wise Pill …
Written
By Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham
Copyright
© 2009 Marvin Thomas Cox
DBA:
Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham
All
Rights Reserved
A Thomas C. Flynn Fable
(Wise Pill Pharmaceuticals Inc.)
There
was once a kind and humble old man who had a son. He loved his son
very much, but his son was not very bright.
One morning, during
his daily prayer time, the old man cried out in desperation, "Oh
Heavenly Father, what am I to do? I love my son, but he has not the
sense to come in out of the rain!"
As was his custom of
seeking a place of quietness and solitude to spend time with His
Maker, the old man knelt in a corner of his barn while he poured out
all that troubled him.
Suddenly, the old man heard a distinctly
small and quiet voice speaking to him.
"Reach
over to your left and pick up a handful of goat droppings. Place
them in a jar, and be diligent to give one dropping to your son each
morning. As I live,
your son will wise up."
"But Father,” exclaimed the
old man, "You have made it clear to me that taking drugs is not
your way and is bad for our spirits."
"Trust me my son,
these are not drugs, but wise pills."
The old man thought
upon this for a while and, in obedience, he finally reached over and
scooped up a handful of goat droppings from the barn floor.
(Prescription Strength Wise Pills)
Feeling
a bit foolish, but determined to walk in faith out of love for his
son, the old man headed back to his house in search of an appropriate
bottle to place these wise pills in. Having found one which had
just the right appearance of containing some great elixir of health,
the old man placed the goat droppings inside and tightened the cap on
the bottle.
Pausing while his hand lingered on the bottle,
doubt began set in. Fear gripped the old man's heart
with thoughts of the
possible side effects from taking these wise pills running rampantly
through his mind.
"My
son could die from taking these," the old man thought to
himself.
So, the old man placed the bottle of goat droppings on
an upper shelf in the kitchen cabinets, quietly closing the door to
the cabinet, and went about his daily chores on his small farm where
he slaved and worked to eke out a living for himself and his family.
Times had been hard the last few years and he struggled to produce
enough to keep his family fed and clothed.
The old man's son was
a good kid, especially to be in his mid-twenties. His son had great
aspirations of fame and riches, and would honestly tell you of his
plans to seek and get a good job to make something of himself. His
generation, he would share with you, was much brighter, more
intelligent, than that of his parents, who lacked true vision and
intelligence to succeed in this modern world.
While Dad worked
like a fool all day raking and scraping to put beans on the table,
the son slept peacefully awaiting nightfall and that magic time of
the evening to play video games on the computer. Not to worry, he
would find that great career which would make him rich and famous,
then his parents would see how foolish they had been to work so hard
for nothing all their lives; parent's simply did not have a clue, no
clue at all ...
The next morning, during his prayers, that small
voice asked the old man, "What will you eat today for lunch old
man?"
"What can you possibly mean Father? I cooked a
huge meal last evening since my wife has been feeling poorly, and you
know there are all kinds of leftovers in the fridge for lunch."
"I
know what's in the fridge alright my son, but it is not left overs.
Your son had his friends over last night while you and your wife
slept. They entertained themselves with computer games and planned
out their careers
that will one day make them rich
and famous men of the world. Your son fully intends to show you how
smart he is, and how foolish you, old man, really are. All of the
discussion and hard work brought a ravenous appetite upon these young
men.
Like a pack of hungry wolves,
they raided your fridge eating all the left overs, drinking up all
the milk, eating all the cookies and snacks in the house, leaving you
and your wife the mess to clean up in the kitchen."
"This
can't be," cried the old man. "I gave my son explicit
instructions that we could not afford to have company over because we
are just barely making it. That is why I have begged you for your
help. I need desperately for my son to be able to find and hold a
job, so maybe he will consider helping his mother and I."
"You
did not obey my voice, old man."
"But Father, he could
die from eating those goat droppings!"
"Yes my son he
could, but I will not let him off that easily. Obey my voice, and,
as I live, your son
will wise up!"
The old man went back to the house that
morning perplexed and angry: Angry at his son; angry at himself;
and angry at his Maker.
This changed
when he entered the
kitchen. His anger quickly became focused where it should be: upon
his son. The kitchen was a disaster, with empty food containers,
glasses and dishes, strewn everywhere. Every cabinet door was open …
And the fridge? The fridge was empty. Well, with the exception of
the empty dishes that had contained leftovers which his son and the
young men conveniently placed back into the fridge because it was
closer and handier than traveling six feet to the kitchen sink.
Rage
filled the old man
as he stood there
trembling in anger. Then, he glanced up at the open cabinets and
saw the bottle of goat droppings. The words, "Obey my voice,"
echoed through his mind.
The old man took a deep breath. Then,
reaching up into the cabinet he took down the bottle of goat
droppings, gripped it tightly in his fist, and set a direct course
for his son's room.
"Time
for this boy to take his morning medicine!” He murmured to himself
making his way through the house.
On
entering his son's
room, the old man reeled from the stench of dirty socks, dishes with
caked up food, and the pungent aroma of a room which had not had a
decent cleaning since, quite possibly, the time of the ark. Clothes
covered the floor along with assorted games, books, magazines, and
other junk.
The old man stepped across the room where his son sat
reclined in his computer chair passed out from his adventures of the
night before. Mouth agape and snoring, his son could have passed for
a homeless person in the disheveled clothes he so loved to wear, and
the overwhelming fact that he had not showered or brushed his teeth
in days. Hygiene, evidently, was not a part of the computer game
world.
Very quietly the old man unscrewed the cap from the bottle
of goat droppings and removed one large, juicy, pellet. Shaking his
son gently, the old man fought back the grin that sought to consume
his face ...
"Here
son, take this, it will make you feel much better."
The boy
groggily opened his eyes to a sliver and asked, "What is it
Dad?"
"It's medicine son … Wise pills. They are
guaranteed to help you succeed in that career you're always talking
about getting. Trust me son. I would never give you anything that
would hurt you. Take it, chew it up, and in no time at all you will
begin to feel like a new man."
"Whatever!,"
protested his son,
while he popped the
pellet into his mouth and began chewing it up.
"Tastes
like crap Dad! Anything that tastes this bad has got to be some good
stuff. Thanks. I've really been feeling bummed out lately."
For
months this morning ritual between a loving father and his son
continued. Daily the old man prayed for his son pleading and asking,
"When O Father, when will this boy wise up?"
"In
time my son, in time. Are you feeding the goats?"
"Yes, Heavenly Father, I feed and water them each
morning."
"Then, there is no shortage of wise pills is
there old man? Time is all that is needed, time and patience."
A
few weeks later
during the old man's
prayer time, his son ventured out to the barn for a stash of
marijuana he had hidden there. He had really never paid any
attention to his old man praying before. Silly nonsense, an old man
speaking to the air around him
as though someone
were really there … But this morning something caused him to pause
for a moment. He listened quietly to his Dad's discussion with
whoever it was his Dad seemed to think was there … Then, he saw his
Dad scoop something off of the barn floor...
Early the next
morning
the old man began his
prayers, to be suddenly interrupted by that familiar voice ...
"My
son, you can thank me later. Right now, go and say goodbye to your
son."
"What do you mean Father?"
"Go!
Hurry!"
The old man ran back to the house
as quickly as his old
legs would carry him.
Upon
entering the house,
he saw his son standing in the living room with several boxes packed
with clothing, books, and the boy's computer.
"What's going
on son? You're up about 12 hours early today."
Anger filled
his son's eyes
as he sneered at his
Dad, hatefully. "I'm moving out old man! I am going to live
with a friend and we're going to get us some great jobs, and when
we're famous and rich you and mom will wish we would come around.
But, we won't, we'll be too busy having a good time!"
"Why
the sudden decision son? No one is running you off you know?"
"I
saw you praying yesterday Dad. I know what's in that stinking
bottle. You have been feeding me goat droppings all this time and
telling me that it was medicine. You're crazy Dad, out of your mind!
I'm leaving to live on my own before you and mom both go nuts. I
will never treat my son the way you have treated me … You, You,
psycho!"
With that the old man's son picked up some of his
belongings and stormed out of the house. Moments later, a car pulled
up and the boy's friend helped him load up ...
… As
they drove away, the old man stood there somewhat puzzled.
Once again that wonderful still voice spoke to him, "Come on
out to the barn old man. I am waiting on you. We have a lot to talk
about today."
"What about my son?," said the old
man.
“As I live, I told you he'd wise up!"
(The Receding Dust Of Wisdom Attained)
(Written
April 2nd, 2009, Revised February 24th, 2013)
Author's
Note: When I was a kid my Dad told me a joke about wise pills.
I never forgot it, or trusted pills, ever. This story was
written in memory of, and inspired by, my Dad, Martin T. Cox.
He passed away in August of 2001.
I
once saw a plaque on a man's wall that said:
"When
a man is old enough to realize he really doesn't know it all,
he usually has a son who thinks he does."
On
the adjacent wall this man had another thought provoking plaque which
said:
"Old
age and treachery will overcome youth and skill."
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