From Eden and Back: The Incredible Misadventures of Billy Barker. John Randolph Price
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what money he had in the bank, left Mayor Stonewall a thank-you note, and caught a tramp steamer bound for South America. He was leaving the country as a disillusioned nineteen year old man of hardened emotions and a mind focused on nothing but hatred for this world, even if it was the best it could be.
Billy spent a year as a tour guide in the Andes Mountains, and then for five more years mined manganese in Santiago, worked on an oil rig in Comodoro Riva-davia, dug for coal near Paysandu, and herded cattle in Rio de Janeiro. In each city he would read the International Herald Tribune for news and his faith in hell on earth grew stronger. He shook his head at the drug cult and the march toward destruction of America's youth, riots in the streets, retirement villages, funky fads, leisure suits, more assassinations, Israel's Six Day War, a woman in Orlando killing her husband and eating his leg, the Vietnam war. He stopped reading the papers. God was mad, and so was the world.
One night in the tropical rain forest he told God he was ready to be terminated. "I can't do it myself," he said, "but you have countless ways to slaughter and exterminate, so do it the way that pleases you most." With that a bolt of lightning struck a nearby tree. "Missed," Billy said dejectedly, and from the rolling thunder he thought he heard laughter in a deep bass voice.
Two and a half weeks later, on his twenty-fifth birthday, Billy caught a steam ship from Caracas bound for Miami, and during the voyage he met the vacationing Reverend Bobby Joe. When the Reverend asked Billy his vocation, Billy gave him a full biographical sketch, including the time spent in the political arena with Mayor Rock Stonewall.
"So basically, you are a politician," the Reverend said with a gleam in his eye.
"Perhaps," Billy said.
"Then you know the secrets of manipulation. How perfect our meeting here on this huge black ship of Liberian registry giving me the opportunity to recruit you for my crusade."
"A crusade?" Billy asked from the adjacent deck chair.
"Yes!" the Reverend Bobby Joe exclaimed. "It is a holy war as I seek to put God back into our government by eliminating the Supreme Court, Planned Parenthood, humanists, gays, the United Nations, public broadcasting, civil rights, the feminist movement, the ACLU, public education, environmentalists, those in media who do not fully cooperate with me, and all religions except the one on which our country was supposed to be founded."
"A most ambitious project," Billy said, "and it would seem to be one of ideal hostility, which is as it should be to be in favor with the Almighty, or so I have been taught. Yet, Reverend Bobby Joe, I am beginning to doubt that the Almighty lives in a constant state of displeasure, or that he thrives on punishment. Perhaps that is the God we humans have made in our own image."
As the words escaped his mouth a beneath-the-sea volcano suddenly erupted and split the ship in half. Billy and Reverend Bobby Joe slid off the ship in their deck chairs into the steaming waters. Everyone perished in the disaster except Billy and a man who rode a plank with him to the shore of a small island in the Caribbean.
While they were still riding the waves, it occurred to Billy that God purposely made that volcano and caused it to erupt at that precise instant so that most everyone would drown in a particularly dramatic moment of judgment. His faith was returning, which meant that he was not prepared for what he was to hear and learn in the days and weeks ahead, for riding on that salty plank with him was Ned Fiffle, an old rancher from Texas who had been in Argentina buying cattle. Rancher Fiffle would teach Billy what God, life and this world were really all about.
5
As they were floating on the barnacled plank toward the small island in the Caribbean, the two men introduced themselves, and Ned Piffle said, "Don't worry, son, we're going to make it. Life has its ups and downs and ins and outs, but the key is to go along for the ride until the dice roll craps."
Billy had a sudden urge to tell Rancher Piffle his life story, including all that had happened since he ran from the Doobie estate. And he did. By the time he had finished telling the story, they had reached land, a powdery white sandy beach with palm trees filled with coconuts.
They rested on the beach for a time in silence. Finally Piffle said, "Well, son, let me tell you about me." And for the next hour he told Billy about being gored by a bull with he was five, trampled in a stampede at age twelve, his girl friend falling into a well on their third date and drowning, his father and mother being killed by rustlers, and how he had built a good life on the losses and crosses of the toil and pain of adversity. "That's all a part of life, son. We win some, we lose some, but somehow it all balances out in the end."
Billy stood and stretched, his wet clothes quickly drying in the hot sun, his hair neatly blow-dried by the warm breeze. "Then you feel that everything is for the best."
The rancher unzipped his pants and urinated on the white sand. "Oh, I don't know about that. I just know that life is what we make it, kind of like walking through a jungle. You might step in quicksand, get bitten by a snake, chased by a tiger, or hit by a poisonous dart from a native's blowgun. On the other hand, you might just dance through the thick green foliage and come out completely unscathed. The difference is the luck of the draw on that particular day."
"What part does God play in all this?" Billy asked while eyeing coconuts in the tree above.
"Well, the way I figure it, God did his thing when he created us, then went off somewhere else to see if he could do a better job. It's like we're on our own and may the best man win."
Billy thought for a moment as he climbed the tree to fetch coconuts, then said, "So you do not feel that God has condemned us to eternal punishment."
"Hell no," the rancher said. "God said, in effect, get out of my face and go do your own thing. It was more a divorce decree rather than a sentence, and that's why we don't have to worry about any interference from him. We're free to do it our way, and if we goof it up, well, we live in our own dung until we draw a better card. No big deal. It's all according to the law of averages. Win some, lose some."
Billy slammed two coconuts together cracking both. He handed one to Ned Piffle and said, "What you are saying is so beautiful! You have given me a completely new understanding. Truly, Rancher Piffle, there is nothing to fear from the Almighty for all of life is based on statistics, a branch of mathematics that analyzes numerical data and draws conclusions from them. We define the problem by asking why certain things happen to people, and in the analysis of the data we find that it is all based on frequency distribution of patterns relating to probabilities. For example, the probability of my beloved Lillie being ravished and killed by a band of ruffians was, let's say, fifty percent with a three percent margin of error."
The old rancher took a bite of the coconut meat and looked at Billy with squinted eyes. "Son, that's just another way of saying that bad things happen to good people just because it was time for it to happen."
"Yes," Billy said, "and since God doesn't do it there's no reason for religion in a statistically-correct world. Everything doesn't happen for the best or the worst. It just happens because that's the way the universe is constructed. Oh how freeing, how exciting. My faith is now in mathematical probabilities and not in a vengeful God, and I will learn to be the best of all possible gamblers."
"Now you're talking," Ned said as he finished his coconut and tossed it into the water. "Come on, let's go see if we can find any semblance of civilization on this island."
6
As the two men walked to the top of the sand dune they saw three lovely maidens running toward them with picnic baskets. The girls were French with names of Marie, Arie and Parie, they said in their native tongue as they drew from the baskets a platter of fruit and fish sandwiches, five wine glasses and a bottle of cold French white wine. Billy felt lucky.
After eating and drinking until nothing was left, the three girls--all sisters they said--invited the men to their home where they lived alone on the other side of the island. On the way a coconut fell from one of the trees and landed on the head of Arie, causing a skull fracture. One out of five, thought Billy, appreciating the odds. After carrying her to