Brother Amos Gambles his Soul and Other Quirky Short Stories

By James Brodell

he line between sin and faith can be very narrow indeed. Then there is the perennial question: Why are we here? The answer may be a surprise. Also surprising is the real story behind Area 51. The human need for companionship can show up in strange places, while a 2,000-year-old dead bird can cost a school teacher her job. Plus, will a community go so far as to resort to human sacrifice to stop an unwelcome commercial development? How about the advantages in looking like Death itself? These are some of the questions addressed in this work of nine quirky stories that touch on death, religion, love of power and even mystical folks.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Brodell
• Release date: Sep 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201443092

Book preview

Brother Amos Gambles His Soul

and Other Quirky Short Stories

By

James J. Brodell

Prologue

The line between sin and faith can be very narrow indeed. Then there is the perennial question: Why are we here? The answer may be a surprise. Also surprising is the real story behind Area 51. The human need for companionship can show up in strange places, while a 2,000-year-old dead bird can cost a school teacher her job. Plus, will a community go so far as to resort to human sacrifice to stop an unwelcome commercial development? How about the advantages in looking like Death itself? These are some of the questions addressed in this work of nine quirky stories that touch on death, religion, love of power and even mystical folks.

Copyright 2022 by James J. Brodell

About the cover

Brother Amos at work is a colorized derivative work by the author. Santa Muerte is a public domain photo from Wikipedia by an unknown photographer. The cemetery photo is a tiny fragment of the many graves at Arlington National Cemetery. The dead bird is titled Dead Passer Domesticus, a 1931 painting by Edward Agustus Bowles, accessed via Artstor Digital Library. It now is part of the Cornell University Lab of Ornithology Art Collection.

Table of contents

The death was most unexpected

There's a lot to a name

The community rejects the big project

A fit or unfit punishment

Andrea finds a friend

Amos gambles his soul

Dead bird and angry parents

A memo on Groom Lake lease negotiations

Stinging rebuke to the wicked witch

The death was most unexpected

Roger Proctor felt relief at the end of a challenging shift in which he consulted in the matter of two very sick patients. He liked volunteering once a week, yet the grim realities of this hospice affected his mood. Basically, he concluded, his job as a cardiologist was to confirm that a patient was dying. They all were, or they wouldn't be here, he concluded.

I sure hope I don't end up in a place like this, the physician said to himself. There was little chance of that in the near future. At 38 Proctor was well entrenched in his profession. He had a staff job at the area's major hospital and his own private practice. The money was good. The family was better: a loving wife and three kids. He supposed he could spend his time in other ways instead of providing medical support for a hospice. Yet he recognized that dying was the inevitable end of a life and frequently scary. So he tried to console as many residents as he could in the few hours he spent there each week. By the time they got to him, there was not much a cardiologist could do but just confirm they were in the correct place.

A nurse he knew as Carol interrupted his path to the door. There's a new resident here that you should see before you go. He just showed up at the front desk. No family. No family physician. Could you give him a quick look. He seems pretty sick and pretty old.

Having someone walk in off the street was unusual. Usually patients were referred by their own physicians after extensive testing and the professional conclusion that they were short-timers. This was no nursing home. This is a place to die in comfort, if you could call it that, Proctor said to himself.

The cardiologist knew that the walk-in put the hospice administration in a bind. They couldn't just throw the person out, particularly if he was very sick. What they needed from him was an assessment as to whether the man was really ill or just looking for a warm bed. He could do that in just a few minutes, he concluded.

Proctor needed only a few seconds to reach his conclusions. As he walked into the hallway where the man had been placed temporarily, his eyes saw a very frail and very, very old man.

This guy must be in his 90s, he told Nurse Carol.

I'm actually a bit older, the wrinkled man said quietly and with a slight smile. Thank you for coming, Doctor.

A very quick examination told Proctor what he needed to know. The man's breathing was shallow. There appeared to be water in the lungs. His temperature was below normal. So was the blood pressure. The pulse was irregular. And the perspiration seemed excessive.

I wonder how he had the energy to get here, Proctor wondered.

Well, I like to be direct, Mr....Mr. err, he said

Just call me Luke, said the man.

Did the receptionist get all your personal details, replied Proctor,

Well, what details there are happen to be scanty, replied the man. I have no next of kin, and there will not be any fuss at my passing.

How did you happen to come here, asked Proctor. Who is your physician?

The truth is, I have no physician, but you know no being wants to die alone. We all would like someone with us as we take that final step into nothingness.

I take it, then, that you are not a religious man and you are not expecting a new life after death, said the doctor.

The man seemed to smile, and then he paused a bit. I do have a very good theoretical understanding of religions. I'm just not sure any of them are on the right track. Could you sit with me awhile if your duties permit.

Proctor replied: First I have to be frank. You have to understand that you are in the final stages of dying. There will be no recovery. The ravages of aging are not reversible. If you were expecting medical treatment to make you better, you came to the wrong place. This is where people come to die in relative comfort and in peace.

I have no illusions, the man said. There are no perpetual motion machines, and all things eventually wind down. That's how I set things up.

I'm sorry, said the cardiologist, I did not understand that last part. You set something up?

I might as well be frank with you, the man replied. I set up this whole system, the world, the solar system, galaxies, plants, animals and even humans. But I fear as I come to the end of existence so will my hobby.

Your hobby, asked the doctor.

Yes, this all was a hobby with me to set up a dynamic system that would amuse me through the ages. You would be surprised at how old I am.

You mean you are like God? said the doctor.

That would be one way of putting it. For now just consider me as some very old entity who had a very interesting existence that is now coming to an end, replied the man.

Proctor smiled and decided to continue to humor the man. You are in pretty bad physical shape to be the creator of all things, and generally we consider people who think they are God to be a bit off their rocker. The man replied:

Thank you for being frank, Doctor, but what I said is true, and this physical manifestation you see before you simply is a representation of my actual condition on a plane beyond your view. As I said, no being likes to die alone. I just am sad that my creation will be in jeopardy when I do.

So let me get this straight, said Proctor. You are telling me that you are God, and that you created the world, and you are afraid that when you die the world will too?

I never called myself God, although you could make that inference from what I told you. The truth is that I created all that you see over a very long time because I liked to sit back and be amused by what takes place.

Proctor could not hide his broad smile. So maybe you should tell me how you did all this. Did you start a long time ago?

"Actually I was pretty old when I started my little hobby. It was