PA & RIP

Pt. 1

I haven’t seen a “Twilight Zone” segment in, oh, perhaps a year or longer. However, when I sat down in front of the “one-eyed monster” yesterday, and began flipping through channels, I chanced upon one of those old segments, and it happened to be just starting.

The name of this portion of the well-known serial was “Rip.” (The reason for the title will soon become obvious).

As the segment begins, we are introduced to an old man and an old woman. They are living in a cabin in what might well have been Tennessee, Kentucky or West Virginia. At any rate, both have “blue grass” accents, and as you might imagine, they refer to one another as “Pa” and “Ma.”

Pa speaks.

“Ma, I reckon I’m going to take ole Rip, and go coon hunting today.”

Ma shakes her head, and responds.

“Now, hold on there now, Pa. I had a bad dream last night, and you and Rip were front and center. I won’t go into detail, but you ought not go hunting today. Please promise me you won’t go.”

Pa shook his head, and laughed.

“Ma, you can dream ‘til you’re blue in the face, but Rip and me, well, we’ve been looking to shoot us a coon today. And that’s exactly what we aim to do!”

And not being able to convince them otherwise, Ma cleared the morning dishes off the table, put them in a large wooden pail, and prepared to walk down to a nearby creek to wash them.

Pt. 2

Now, Pa and old Rip walked out the same door. The former was armed with a 12 gauge shotgun, and the duo headed down a well-worn trail, and quickly disappeared out of sight.

Suddenly, a big raccoon crossed their pathway, and Pa and Rip were hot on his trail. And now, as Pa raised his shotgun, the raccoon jumped into a small pond, and began swimming. Well, Rip could not resist. He jumped in after the furry brown animal, and the two of them were lost in a whirlpool of bubbles.

Of course, Pa was beside himself with anxiety, and he shouted,

“Hold on there, Rip. I’m a coming!”

And now, Pa jumped into the pond, overalls, shoes and all. And now, Pa was lost in an expanding whirlpool of bubbles which the dog and raccoon left in their wake.

Pa and Rip couldn’t quite make out exactly what had transpired after they jumped into those dark troubled waters, but now they found themselves walking down an unfamiliar trail. Oh, the trees and bushes and thickets were very much like their “neck of the woods,” but they both realized they had never walked this way before.

And now, Pa and Rip walked up to a couple of good old boys who lived adjacent to their homestead. They were digging a hole. Next to the brothers was a wooden box.

“Hey there, Jack and Jim. What are ye doing out here digging in the ground, and what’s in that box?”

Jack and Jim paid absolutely no attention to Pa. It was as if he and Rip weren’t there.

Now, Jim spoke to Jack.

“Old Rip was a good dog. He wasn’t mine, but I’m a gonna miss him.”

Pa looked to his left, and sure enough Rip was still living and moving and breathing beside him.

“What in tarnation?” Pa said aloud.

Pt. 3

And then it occurred to him. “Those ole boys think Rip is dead, and they are getting ready to bury him.” Well, there was nothing to do, but to see if he could find his way back to the cabin. And though he didn’t recognize this trail, five minutes later, Pa recognized the cabin.

Throwing open the door with Rip close on his heels, Pa noticed Ma sitting in a rocking chair by the fire. However, her old tattered house dress had been replaced by a calf length black dress, and a dark veil covered her face. And now, Ma’s aged minister appeared, took Ma by the hand, and they walked out the front door.

Pa couldn’t imagine why, but it was increasingly obvious. Ma and the preacher thought he was dead. And, well, given his previous experience with Jack and Jim, the hole and the wooden box, and having witnessed Ma in mourning clothes, Pa figured it was time he faced up to reality. He and Rip and the unfortunate little raccoon had died in the little pond.

There was nothing to do now, but to figure out what to do next. Pa wasn’t a church going man, not by a long shot. However, he had always enjoyed Ma’s Bible stories, and he had lived vicariously through her, and even found himself believing there was something to this Jesus fella.

Suddenly, Pa and Rip found themselves walking along an old rail fence line. And now, they arrived at an entrance gate. And now, a middle-aged man stepped from behind a large tree.

“Well, hello there, neighbor! I’ve been a waiting on you.”

Pa spoke.

“You’ve been a waiting on me?”

The stranger continued.

“Yes sir. This here is the entrance to the Kingdom. And I’m…”

Pa smiled. He knew what was coming next.

“I guess you’re a gonna tell me that your name’s St. Peter.”

“Why yes. That’s my name alright.”

Suddenly, Rip growled and retreated a few feet.

“Come on now, Mr. Hester. Right this way.”

The man who claimed to be St. Peter knew his name. Pa figured that was proof enough for him. But as he took a step forward, Rip began barking.

The would be St. Peter exclaimed,

“Oh, no sir. You can’t bring your dog in here. We don’t allow animals in heaven. Tell, you what. You leave him with me, and I’ll walk him down the trail a bit. We have a place for your old Rip.”

Now Pa shook his head, and exclaimed,

“Lookie here, St. Peter, or whoever you think you are. If that there place isn’t good enough for Rip, it isn’t good enough for me either!”

And though the gate tender tried to persuade Pa otherwise, he and Rip resumed their walk down the unfamiliar trail.

Pt. 4

Ten minutes later, Pa spied what appeared to be another small gate along the old rail fence line. And standing next to the gate was a young man dressed in overalls much like his own.

“Well, hello there, neighbor!”

Pa was wary. He had head that neighbor stuff before.

“I suppose you are gonna tell you’re St. Peter.”

To which the young stranger replied.

“Oh no. St. Peter, and the other gate guards, and I had breakfast together. But he has more important things to do than guard this ole gate. He’s up the road a piece standing at the main gate. You know. The one made of gold, and silver and pearls and diamonds.”

(and)

“I’m Clyde. I’m just an apprentice angel. I’m trying to earn my wings.”

Pa warmed up to the stranger.

“We just walked past a fella who claimed he was St. Peter. He was standing by a little gate like this one. He just about convinced me to go in, but as I took a couple of steps, he told me that Rip wasn’t allowed, and my old hound dog growled at him.”

(and)

“Well now, my friend. Where I go, Rip goes. And where Rip goes, I go.”

(and)

“I mean, heaven wouldn’t be heaven without my old Rip.”

The young angel shook his head, and spoke.

“Why, Mr. Hester, It’s a good thing your old Rip warned you, and the two of you are inseparable.”

(and)

“You see. That fella who claimed to be St. Peter was none other than ole Slewfoot, himself!”

(and)

“You were about to step into a place where there is weeping and wailing and knashing of teeth.”

Pa suddenly felt weak, and Clyde reached out to catch him before he slumped to the ground.

“Mr. Hester. That trickster in the red pajamas and pitchfork almost fooled you into spending eternity with his demons and the unrighteous dead. C’mon now. It’s okay. Follow me.”

Not to be misunderstood, Pa exclaimed,

“Now look here, son. As much as I would love to join you. I simply won’t go anywhere without my Rip. We’ll take our leave, and keep on walking, if Rip isn’t welcome in the Father’s Kingdom.”

Now, the angel smiled.

“Mr. Hester. I couldn’t agree with you more. But most importantly, our Father agrees with you. C’mon now. You and Rip follow me.”

Pa slung the old shotgun over his shoulder and grinned.

“Let’s go, Rip. They call this place ‘Heaven,’ but it looks a whole lot like Home to me.”

Rip wagged his tail, and followed his old friend up the hill.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending