The stories and character names are fictitious. No resemblance is intended in the character names to any living or deceased person.
by Rod Smith
The voice on the telephone was cheerful but insistent. "Hey Jim, you gotta come out tonight.
I've discovered this groovy new pub. Great music, lots of chicks." It was Gary Chetham, whom
he'd known since school.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll think about it, call you later."
"Better do it, bye."
Jim Cazaly was thoughtful as he put down the phone. He knew it would be like a hundred other
nights if he went. Anyway, he had no money. At first the singles lifestyle had been fun. The
drinking, the laughter, sometimes the women. Lately though it hadn't done much for him.
Leaving home had been an adventure, and he'd loved the freedom of the rented apartment, coming
and going when he pleased. Even bringing a girl home when he could get one. He particularly
remembered the divorcee who'd wanted to stay all weekend - and did. Then came the big mistake,
he mused.
Two weeks ago he'd picked up a girl at a pub, taken her home and when he woke in the morning she was gone, and so was his wallet. Not to mention the credit cards. $180 down the drain, just like that, he thought bitterly. Now for another week he had no money to go anywhere. His savings had gone - taken out to pay his driving fine.
Angrily he slammed a CD into the hi-fi and in a few seconds he was gyrating to Mick Jagger. "I can't get no satisfaction either" he cursed loudly. Now it was going to be at least a week of this, and the TV. He hadn't the guts to tell Gary about the situation.
As the electric guitar twanged the end of the number, he pressed the off button. Something was missing in his life somehow. Shouldn't be, he thought. I'm 21, in my prime, reasonably fit, got a job. Might not last long though, the way I'm going. "I'm on a carousel and don't know how to stop it" he said to himself.
Wearily he went to the laundry and gazed at the mountain of clothes. His mother was 2,000 km away on vacation. He opened the cupboard and grabbed the washing powder packet. Empty. He threw it on the floor. "Damn!" He hadn't any coins for the launderette either.
The clock on the wall said 5.02. His thoughts again turned to food. He went to the kitchen, opened the fridge door and gazed disdainfully at a piece of mouldy cheese. There was also half of a loaf which he'd bought a week ago. It was green at the edges. He'd relied on Mum to bring groceries around but she was sick this week. He'd have to bludge some food from Suzy at work and he hated that. She was always saying "the Lord provides, but you have to know him first." She usually lent him a few dollars anyhow.
Funny about Suzy. She was always so cheerful. Never complained. She laughingly called him the prodigal son. He frowned. What did that mean?
The immediate problem was food. There was one possibility though, yes, that was it! The little church Suzie had told him about. She'd be there tonight! She said they always had refreshments after the meeting. That would fill the void in his stomach until tomorrow. What about the collection, he thought. No money. He couldn't just walk in at the end. Oh well, one step at a time.
Quickly he donned a clean shirt, slammed the door and started up his car. The church was about three kilometres away, and when he arrived people were filing out of the carpark. "Hi Jim, fancy seeing you here," said a chirpy voice. It was Suzy. "Take a seat with me, we'll talk afterwards."
He didn't know any of the songs, and he shuffled his feet and fidgeted nervously. Then it was time for the message and the fresh faced young pastor skipped up to the podium. "We're going to learn today from the prodigal son," he said. "Please turn in your Bible to Luke chapter 13 verse 12." Suzy went up to read the verses. The prodigal son. Suddenly Jim remembered she'd called him that.
Then the pastor took over and spoke about the young man in the Bible who left home and lived riotously. Then his money was all gone and he'd been desperate to the point of eating the food the pigs ate. "That's me," Jim muttered to himself, "except for the pigs bit. Not far off it though."
Then the pastor said "If there is anyone here like the prodigal son, here is your chance to begin again. Let Jesus take over your life. Change it. Come to the front now. Repent. Begin again, as the prodigal son did. You'll never lack when you follow Jesus."
Everyone began to sing "Just as I am, without one plea." Slowly Jim got up from his seat. He realised the hungry feeling had gone. Now the food didn't seem so important. He began to walk toward the platform and the waiting pastor. END