Plague

            “There is a plague among men,” said Gabe.

            “True. They have souls, but no sense,” agreed Mike.

            Gabe put his newspaper down on the table and picked up his empty coffee mug. It was a gift from his girlfriend that read, ‘Angels do it in Anaheim’. Gabe thought that was cute. She was on a business trip and bought it when she saw the Angels play. She was on a lot of business trips these days. Gabe found himself missing her.

             He went to the coffee maker and poured himself a second cup. It wasn’t bad coffee for a crappy little break room off the side of a double wide trailer. He added a little sugar to the coffee and stirred it with a wooden stirrer. Mike picked up the newspaper Gabe had been reading and looked at the front page news.

            “Eight dead in overnight violence,” read Mike.

            “It’s pretty frigging tragic,” said Gabe as he returned to the table.

            “Whatever happened to settling things the old fashioned way, with fists,” asked Mike.

            “Beats me man. Guns became the go to accessory for the gang culture. Got to have your gold, got to have your guns,” said Gabe as he sipped at his coffee.

            “I just think it’s dumb. I mean, what are they shooting each other over? And why are they all such terrible shots,” asked Mike.

            “What do you mean,” asked Gabe.

            “Well, territory is just so transitory. You can’t take it with you. And these gangbanger types never seem to hit what they’re aiming at. It’s usually some innocent bystander that just happens to be an honors student at the local high school, about to graduate and be the first one in his family to go to college that gets shot and killed,” said Mike.

            Gabe shrugged. He knew it really was all about territory and drugs and reputation for the gangbangers and that they had such a disenfranchised view of the world that they just didn’t care who got in the way.

            “I just don’t want to look anymore,” said Mike.

            “Maybe it is God, sorting it all out,” said Gabe.

            Mike looked up and wrinkled his eyebrows at Gabe.

            “Sorting it out? What the hell does that mean,” asked Mike.

            “It’s just something I’ve been kicking around. I’m not sure it’s, you know, right, but it’s just something I’ve been considering,” said Gabe.

            “Ok, so what is God doing,” asked Mike.

            Gabe put his coffee mug down and leaned in closer to Mike. He looked around the small break room to make sure they were the only two around.

            “The way I’ve been thinking about it is how God seems to use what is at hand to balance out the good and the bad. We know all about the Old Testament and the wrathful God, always smiting people and turning them into salt pillars and wiping out the wicked with fire or plagues, maybe this is just another way he’s judging the wicked. He’s using guns as the new plague,” said Gabe.

            “What about that honor school student, they weren’t wicked. Why should the innocent suffer at the hands of the wicked,” asked Mike.

            “So the wicked can be judged,” said Gabe.

            Mike crossed his arms and leaned back in his cheap plastic folding chair.

            “I don’t know about that. I’m not sure the wicked need to act to be condemned to hell. Aren’t they already wicked and deserve damnation,” asked Mike.

            “Well, I wondered about that too. But God can’t judge until an act in violation of his laws has been committed. So, the bad guy kills the good guy, God can then send the bad to hell for eternal suffering and stuff,” said Gabe.

            “I don’t know. That seems like a stretch to me,” said Mike, “God can judge anybody at anytime as far as I know. Plus he knows what they’re going to do anyway, he just let’s them make the choice to be good or to be bad”.

            “Exactly. He let’s them make the choice before his ultimate judgment,” said Gabe.

           

            Mike rubbed his face and Gabe resumed sipping from his favorite coffee mug.

            “So the innocent must suffer, so the wicked may be judged. And the gun violence is God making use of the tools at hand to bring about that judgment,” said Mike.

            Gabe nodded and pulled the newspaper back toward him and opened it to the sports section.

            “I gotta say Gabe. I think that’s pretty damn dumb,” said Mike.

            “Well, it’s a theory I guess,” said Gabe.

            Mike looked at the wall clock and put on his work gloves. It was time to hop on the garbage truck and start hauling the city’s trash. He nudged Gabe as he stood up from the table. Gabe looked up at Mike then at the clock and nodded. They unfurled their wings and flew toward the garbage rig.