Shopping For Supper: a short nightmare of the end times

Shopping For Supper
a short nightmare of the end times
by Jean Buckhalter

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Ezekiel 5:17 "So will I send upon you famine and evil beasts, and they shall bereave thee; and pestilence and blood shall pass through thee; and I will bring the sword upon thee. I, the Lord, have spoken."
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He barely looked like a man; certainly nothing like the Fortune 500 executive he once had been. Long, rank tangles of hair hung about his head in sharp contrast to the beautifully groomed style he once sported. An air of rancid, rotting flesh hung around him like the scent of a corpse dead three days in the sun. Flies buzzed around him mercilessly, laying their eggs in the open sores that covered his body. Maggots crawled around in the boils, cleaning out the noisome contents. His quarry lie ahead. Huge and fat, sleek fur gleaming in the sunlight, the animal would fill the hole gnawing in his guts for many a day. He approached from downwind with great stealth learned from months of hunting.

The animal looked up from where he was grooming his fur while seated on a chunk of concrete. Lifting his nose to the wind, he tested the air for food or foe. Nothing scented, the animal continued grooming the fur on his fat belly. A noise from the rubble nearby, and the head lifted again. All motion ceased as the animal prepared to run at the first hint of danger.

The hunter froze where he was. He grasped the small pitchfork more tightly in his hand. The pain was excruciating. The open sores on his hands cracked and bled, making his grip more difficult. The animal relaxed and he crept closer.

The animal lay down on the slab of concrete to better clean his hindquarters. The hunter’s mouth watered at the thought of something to eat. The blood would slake the thirst, which roared through his body like a fire. Closer he crept. He raised the pitchfork, ready to impale the food when an incautious step caused small pebbles to shift and alert his prey. Alarmed, the rodent scurried off to hide from the hunter.

The hunter shook his fist at the sky and screamed unintelligible epithets. In front of him, a random shaft of sunlight slipped through the overcast sky, lighting a stained glass window lying in the rubble. Perhaps the rat would have appreciated the sight of the sun turning the stained glass into glowing, liquid beauty or the ironic twist of fate which had left this delicate work of art untouched through the destructive power of the earthquakes, but the rat wasn't there. Furiously the hunter kicked at the glass, which remained unbroken. He grabbed a chunk of rubble and smashed it down on the brilliant glass over and over, ranting and screaming blasphemous oaths at God. Once the beauty of the stained glass had been reduced to shards, the hunter stood and shook his fist at God, cursing His holy name and decrying the day he was born before continuing the hunt.

Unseen in the ruins, the rat watched the hunter, smelling the stench of the rotting flesh like a connoisseur of fine wine. Alerting his pack mates, they followed the hunter with greater stealth than he had shown. Before long the food would lie down and sleep and they could feast. They were patient; they could wait. The pack would eat well for many days.
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Revelation 16:10 "And the fifth angel poured out his bowl upon the throne of the beast, and his kingdom was full of darkness; and they gnawed their tongues for pain. And blasphemed the God of heaven because of their pains and their sores, and repented not their deeds."
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