In Equal Measure

Sample from Ehaema. For more information, please contact the author

---

“Seriously.  Do I come and do this in your house?”

“Whatever man.  Maybe.”  Zip.  “In this country I’m thinking yeah, maybe Jesus does piss a little bit in everyone’s house.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a wretched human being, Vanya?”

The Martyr’s tongue lolled free from his coyote teeth.  Laying a hand on the small crucified being’s shoulder, he leaned uncomfortably close in and whispered, “I think something very strange is happening.”

“Man, you’re telling me.”  His audience looked more than a little disturbed.

“Listen.  I think I need a favor.”

Tiny Jesus sighed.  “Would you believe I’ve heard this one before?  Shocking, I know.  Word to the wise, though, Vanya - this is maybe not the best favor-asking technique ever invented. I don’t think it’s really even in the top ten, let me check - nope, not even close.  But let’s hear it, since obviously I’m not going anywhere at the moment.”  The little figure shrugged, which on a crucifix is quite a trick.

“That’s it!  That’s it.”  Vanya leapt back, bounced off a pew and doubled over, smacking a fist into his forehead a few times as if to beat back a revelation attempting to spring forth.  Tiny Jesus invented a new expression that borrowed from both relieved and perplexed in equal measure as he waited for the man to express himself in more verbal, less kinetic terms.

“The walls between things - they’ve gotten thin, too thin.  I think something’s broken.  You gotta come with me.”

“I have to do what now?  Hey, no look - aww, you haven’t even washed your hands!  Come on, man!”  The Martyr was already prying the idol loose from the wall.

“You going to help me get that chalice.  And then with it, we can start to repair whatever is going wrong with space-time.  That’s the favor.  Come on, get off of there.”

“Vanya, why do you think I need to come with you?  I’m just an object.”

“Everything is just an object.  Why you think you need to stay here?”  With a faint crunch of protesting plaster, Tiny Jesus left the wall and disappeared into a large hip pocket of the Martyr’s coat.  

“Fair point.  I don’t have a patent on working in mysterious ways, after all -- oh WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN KEEPING IN HERE?”  

“Dreams,” answered the Martyr.  “Let’s go do some good deeds.”

With that, he sauntered up to the front of the church, and after a few curses and some struggling with the uncooperative lock, breezed unsteadily out through the front door with his newfound companion, leaving only their voices behind.

“Any guarantee these deeds are actually going to be good?”

“Aw, hell no.”