Moses lay in a half-asleep stupor, mentally debating the merits of getting up versus staying down. He had a pounding hangover, his mouth was dry as Egyptian brickstraw, and he should have milked the goats three hours ago. He and his wife Heather were feuding again. She was constantly nagging, always on his back about one damn thing or another. It was generally "You don’t love me or you’d get me a new robe." or "Lips that touch rotgut wine won’t touch mine." or "When are you going to get us out of this wilderness?" or "Promised Land? Milk and Honey? Yeah, right." Then she would sigh deeply, roll her eyes, then go back to tending their flock while Moses laid around, dreaming of his last little excursion to Gomorrah. That bellydancer with one leg was unforgettable. He remembered how she would g......zzzzzzz.
"MOSES! Get your lazy ass up and do something!"
He jerked awake, cursed under his breath and laboriously shuffled to his feet. He straightened his beard and drew himself up to his full five foot three inch stature.
"Dammit all, can’t a guy get a minute’s peace around here? I’ve got to go get some air."
He opened the tent flap and the desert sun slapped him full in the face.
Damn wine. Maybe she does have a point. My head feels like it was kicked by a bull camel. I’m gonna have to stop. This is no way to live.
He staggered to the well, slurped down a dipper of rancid water, then walked slowly toward the edge of town, out of sight, out of earshot.
"Hey, Moe."
"Hi Louie, how’s it hangin’?"
"Good...good. Check this out. I made a pair of sandals out of snakeskin."
Moses stared in amazement. He’d never seen anything like it. The sandals were soft and looked comfortable. The workmanship was superb. He’d never done anything but avoid serpents, now Louie here, was wearing their hides.
"Louie, only you could come up with an idea like this. Why couldn’t you have done something like this before we started this long trip to who-knows-where? Just think of all those vipers we killed along the way. They do look good on you, though. Think I could get a pair made?"
"Of course. Listen Moe, I been thinkin’. And doin’. You remember our last Board meeting? We decided we needed a list of rules and you asked everybody to come up with ideas, and made me the committee chairman?"
"Yeah?"
"I’ve been workin’ on it. I wanted to spring it at the next meeting, but you can have a sneak peek."
"Sure, show me what you’ve got."
"OK, follow me. We’ve got a little climb ahead of us."
Moses and Louie headed up the boulder strewn path, climbing from rock to rock. At the very peak of Meercat Mountain, Louie had erected a palm frond shelter, your typical three sides and open front. Inside, it was cool and shaded. A clay pot sat in a shallow fire ring and clear springwater gurgled up from the ground nearby. On a rock ledge at one end of the shelter lay two pieces of grey granite, rough hewn and nearly identical. Louie had been carving words into the stone and he held them up for Moses to see, one in each arm.
"Look Moe, here’s the rules, ten of ‘em. Whaddya think?"
Moses took a deep breath. "OK Louie, but there’s something I need to tell you. I...I...can’t read. He paused. I know everybody thought I could, but I always faked it. I never thought I’d really have to. I mean, I was elected leader and all, but the truth is, I never went to school. All the damn Pharaoh taught me was how to ride Arabians and look good. My resume’s phony. Levi the Scribe helped me, so he knows. Don’t say anything to anybody, alright?"
Louie nodded and laid the tablets down carefully and picked up hammer and chisel. "I’ve just got a little finishing work to do, then we can take them home."
"OK, but let me carry them. Image and all that, y’know."
"Sure Moe, you da man."
Louie positioned his chisel and began chipping away small bits of granite, smoothing out rough edges, lovingly creating the words that his people would learn to live by. While he worked, Moses kept himself busy trying to get the hang of this carving process. He scribed some straight lines, then some curliques onto a flat piece, and started to chisel. Damn, this is difficult. Suddenly his chisel struck a knot of embedded chert and a huge spark sailed out into a nearby dry bush. It immediately flashed up in flames, and before Moses could utter a choked yell, had spread to nearby brush and was threatening their shelter. Both men grabbed handfuls of sand, smothering the flames. Moses took off his robe, doused it in the spring, and beat back the rapidly advancing inferno. Fortunately, because the plant life up here was so sparse, the fire burnt itself out in minutes, leaving only a hundred foot tall plume of black smoke in the air.
The tablets were intact; the shelter was still standing.
"I’m finished, Moe. Let’s go home."
Moses picked up the tablets, one under each arm, and headed down the hill. He was winded, head ached like hell, his robe was in burnt tatters, and he had developed a severe case of hiccups. He stopped and turned.
"Listen Louie, we’ve got to explain the smoke. No doubt everybody’s gonna... hic!.. be asking me what happened up there. Any ideas?" hic!
"Not to worry, Moe, I’ve already got it figured out. We’ll say Jehova appeared in a fiery bush and handed you the stones. It’ll work, trust me."
"Louie, Louie, what would I do without...hic!... you?"
They moved slowly down the mountain then, Louie a hundred yards in the rear and Moses striding purposefully out front, tattered, unkempt beard white and wild, burdened with those heavy chunks of granite, with head held high.
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