Iron Feghoot entries
Dec. 17th, 2005 11:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
joshwritingIf you want to read the two entries ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sdorn got, go here: http://www.livejournal.com/users/sdorn/150240.html?view=287456
If you just want mine, then read below.
The Warmth of God
As a result of the comparative truce in Kashmir, there has been a resurgence of Christian missionary activity. In the Parpik Pass area, sometimes Indian, sometimes Pakistani, and sometimes Chinese, there is little in the way of food or shelter.
As Jerome, a British missionary, made his way along in the rain, he fended off the hail with his umbrella, on his way to join a local group. He’d been promised interesting yacking and rabbits for dinner! This was important – he’d brought the prayer books out of storage! This group practiced a mix of the Muslim and Hindi practices – and no such oddball crossbreed could survive an encounter with Jerome’s true faith!
The notion that his was not the one true faith was no likelier to permeate his consciousness than light was to cross an event horizon!
Jerome’s group was under an overhang. Stowing his bumbershoot and box, he sat beside two men dressed in black with long beards, and across from his host and neighbors. As he said grace to himself, he noted that the men in black also spoke to themselves before partaking in the food.
He put a generous helping of the rabbit in his mouth. He had not had meat for weeks!
His jaw opened…closed… opened… closed. Politeness won out. He swallowed, then exclaimed, “That’s not rabbit!”
A puzzled look came over the host’s face. “Why no! We are eating yaks, as I promised!”
“But… but… You said we would be having rabbits!”
“Why no, I did not. I said we would be having yaks.”
“I thought you meant yacks, as in talking! What about after the yaks? You said rabbits then!”
“No, sir, you are mistaken. I said ‘Rabbis.’” At that, the two men in black bowed their heads.
In total embarrassment, Jerome fled the table and the pass, leaving both bumbershoot and prayer books behind. The rabbis, with both amusement and consternation went their ways as well.
But all was not lost from this particular trip to Parpik Pass. In the cold night that followed, came the first instance of Sikh-heating missals.
sdorn got, go here: http://www.livejournal.com/users/sdorn/150240.html?view=287456If you just want mine, then read below.
The Warmth of God
As a result of the comparative truce in Kashmir, there has been a resurgence of Christian missionary activity. In the Parpik Pass area, sometimes Indian, sometimes Pakistani, and sometimes Chinese, there is little in the way of food or shelter.
As Jerome, a British missionary, made his way along in the rain, he fended off the hail with his umbrella, on his way to join a local group. He’d been promised interesting yacking and rabbits for dinner! This was important – he’d brought the prayer books out of storage! This group practiced a mix of the Muslim and Hindi practices – and no such oddball crossbreed could survive an encounter with Jerome’s true faith!
The notion that his was not the one true faith was no likelier to permeate his consciousness than light was to cross an event horizon!
Jerome’s group was under an overhang. Stowing his bumbershoot and box, he sat beside two men dressed in black with long beards, and across from his host and neighbors. As he said grace to himself, he noted that the men in black also spoke to themselves before partaking in the food.
He put a generous helping of the rabbit in his mouth. He had not had meat for weeks!
His jaw opened…closed… opened… closed. Politeness won out. He swallowed, then exclaimed, “That’s not rabbit!”
A puzzled look came over the host’s face. “Why no! We are eating yaks, as I promised!”
“But… but… You said we would be having rabbits!”
“Why no, I did not. I said we would be having yaks.”
“I thought you meant yacks, as in talking! What about after the yaks? You said rabbits then!”
“No, sir, you are mistaken. I said ‘Rabbis.’” At that, the two men in black bowed their heads.
In total embarrassment, Jerome fled the table and the pass, leaving both bumbershoot and prayer books behind. The rabbis, with both amusement and consternation went their ways as well.
But all was not lost from this particular trip to Parpik Pass. In the cold night that followed, came the first instance of Sikh-heating missals.
