all I gone through in
punishment."
There was a piercing scream
from the woods, followed
closely by a pistol report.
"Does it seem right to you,
lady, that one is punished a
heap and another ain't punished
at all?"
"Jesus!" the old lady cried.
"You've got good blood! I
know you wouldn't shoot a
lady! I know you come from
nice people! Pray! Jesus, you
ought not to shoot a lady. I'll
give you all the money I've
got!"
"Lady," The Misfit said,
looking beyond her far into the
woods, "there never was a
body that give the undertaker a
tip."
There were two more pistol
reports and the grandmother
raised her head like a parched
old turkey hen crying for water
and called, "Bailey Boy, Bailey
Boy!" as if her heart would
break.
"Jesus was the only One that
ever raised the dead," The
Misfit continued, "and He
shouldn't have done it. He
shown everything off balance.
If He did what He said, then it's
nothing for you to do but thow
away everything and follow
Him, and if He didn't, then it's
nothing for you to do but enjoy
the few minutes you got left
the best way you can-by killing
somebody or burning down his
house or doing some other
meanness to him. No pleasure
but meanness," he said and his
voice had become almost a
snarl.
"Maybe He didn't raise the
dead," the old lady mumbled,
not knowing what she was
saying and feeling so dizzy that
she sank down in the ditch with
her legs twisted under her.
"I wasn't there so I can't say He
didn't," The Misfit said. "I
wisht I had of been there," he
said, hitting the ground with
his fist. "It ain't right I wasn't
there because if I had of been
there I would of known. Listen
JOY FEELINGS | DECEMBER ISSUE
248