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Apples of Gold
Radio Script for July 24, 2009
“The Cost of Moving to Dallas”
Hello, I’m Doug Apple…with Apples of Gold.
My heart was pounding through my chest.
I could hear Dad in the kitchen making breakfast.
“Easy,” I told myself as I stepped down the creaky old stairs.
At the bottom, the front door was open, and laying up against the screen was Banjo.
He jerked to look up at me.
“Shhhhh!” I said with my finger to my mouth. “Quiet boy.”
I loved Banjo, my dad’s Irish Red. Dad always said, “He’s the best hunting dog on God’s green earth.”
It was kind of sad, actually, knowing I wouldn’t be seeing Banjo everyday.
But I just couldn’t take it anymore, not one more boring weekend in Dumbtown U.S.A.
My cousin had gone to Dallas, and all I heard about was how much fun he was having. Girls. Parties. Did I say girls?
Plus he had a good job, he said, and he could get me on.
But I needed money, and that’s where Dad came in.
“Son, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dad said as he refilled his coffee.
“But Dad, I hate it here. I can’t stand it. And it’s only fair. You gave Lou a thousand dollars when he got married, and that’s all I’m asking for. Just give me my thousand dollars.”
“Well I don’t have a thousand dollars.”
“Dad, you’re always talking about doing what’s right. And the right thing is to give me my money. That’s all I’m asking for. I’ll never ask for anything else again, I swear.”
That was Monday. By Friday I was on a bus to Dallas, Texas; home of the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders!
I crashed at my cousin’s, and he did get me a job.
And best of all, he introduced me to Cowboys Red River, a huge country dance bar.
So it was drinking and poker and girls. I had died and gone to heaven.
My cousin turned out to be kind of a dud, though. He only wanted to go out on the weekends, but I wanted to party every night! Why wouldn’t you?
Well I met some guys at the poker table at Cowboys, and we started hanging out all night.
Then one day I got in this big fight with my cousin about nothing and he told me to get out. Man, he was not the cool guy I thought he was.
So I moved in with a couple of the guys from Cowboys, and that’s when the party really started. They were teaching me how to make money at the poker table, and when that didn’t work, well we had other ways to bring in some bucks.
So everything was going great, except for the job.
I called in sick a few times, and I really was sick, believe me. But then one Friday the manager called me in and told me not to come back.
That night I got pretty drunk. Actually, and I can hold my liquor, but I was dancing and I got a little crazy and I ended up hurling on myself. I just wanted to go home, but the guys . . . no one would take me.
They started shoving me around for kicks, and someone even punched me in the back of the head. I felt my stomach cramping up again and I was too messed up to even turn my head, so I just laid there in it. And I could hear the guys laughing and all the girls were just saying how gross I was.
Finally someone, I guess a bouncer, grabbed me and dragged me outside.
It was raining, and it actually felt good. I tried to stand up, but everything was swirling, so I crawled.
I finally just crashed there on the edge of the parking lot, with a little muddy spot for a pillow.
I heard a truck pull up beside me and stop. I opened my eyes and saw a man in a long black rain coat and cowboy hat.
“Sure,” I thought, “Steal the drunk guy’s wallet. Well ha ha, there’s nothing in it. Joke’s on you my friend.”
I just closed my eyes, resigned to the next terrible thing. My cousin hated me. My friends weren’t friends at all. I was broke. I was drunk. I smelled like puke and I was laying in the mud. “Just kill me,” I thought.
The man slowly rolled me over.
“Dad?”
“Here, let’s get you in the truck.”
He helped me up, wiped me off, then spread out a sleeping bag on the seat and wrapped it around me.
I don’t know how long it was before I sobered up a little. I just sat there with my head against the window as we drove through the rain in the dark.
“Thirsty?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Here, I brought you some water and some tea, whatever you want.”
“Why are you here?”
“Your cousin called. He was worried.”
“Oh.”
I started fiddling with the dog collar on the seat.
“How’s old Banjo doing?”
I smiled a little bit thinking about Banjo – probably the only creature left on earth who would still be glad to see me.
“About Banjo. I had to sell him.”
“What? You sold him? You said he was the best hunting dog on God’s green earth. Why did you sell him?”
“Well son, you asked for your money and…”
I turned away.
The wipers. The truck’s motor. The countryside passing by. The water trickling down.
And then Dad’s reassuring hand.
“I love you,” he said.
And I bowed my head . . . and cried.
Comments?
E-mail me: dougapple@wave94.com.
May God bless you today! With Apples of Gold…I’m Doug Apple.
© 2009 The Arrow’s Tip
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(Proverbs 25:11 – “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.”)
Why “The Arrow’s Tip”? Each morning, after diligently seeking the Lord, I write Apples of Gold. Then before I release it to the public I pray one final prayer, “Lord, send forth your arrows.” I envision Apples of Gold as arrows, tips dipped in the river of the water of life that flows from the throne of God (Rev. 22:1), sailing toward the hearts and minds of men and women around the world.
Doug Apple
General Manager - Wave 94
Christian Radio for Tallahassee
PO Box 4105
Tallahassee, FL 32315
(850) 926-8000
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