The raggedy-haired man sat down at the bar, ordering a drink, resting his elbows on the counter.  The man next to him greeted him.  "Long day, stranger?"
    "Was it ever."
    "Care to tell?"
    He looked at him.  "Do I know you?"
    He grinned.  "Not yet."
    He took a sip, hair hanging in his face.  "Name's Jones.  Jim Jones.  Folks at home call me Tex."
    "Delighted to meet you, Tex.  Christian Ingleman."
    He nodded.  "Christian."  Another sip; the bartender refilled his glass.  "I went to work early today."  He sighed.  "Problems with my girlfriend."
    "You live together?"
    "Moved off the ranch to her apartment."
    "Go on."
    "I work at a welding shop.  I'm good at my job, y'know, but she doesn't seem to get it.  I normally come home late, put in for extra hours.  She can't understand why."
    "Hmm."
    "I love my job - I create things.  I take metal and form it into shapes and create things.  I enjoy that.  But she works at the diner, and she hates it.  She comes home as fast as possible, 'cause she hates her job.  She wants to see me, I figger, but I'm still at work."
    "Perhaps you should come home early, just once.  That'd be a pleasant surprise, would it not?"
    "Yeah, but, Christian, we can't afford that.  All her fancy china, and that fancy apartment.  We can't afford the apartment.  And we can't afford to move.  I can't go home early, 'cause every bit of the bucks I make goes to pay for her stuff."
    "And her income?"
    "She buys more stuff."
    "That's not good."
    "Nope.  She goes to antique stores on her days off, and when I come home, she wants to go with me to an antique store.  That's all she thinks about, is china and old furniture."
    "But you said she wants you home early."
    "It's funner to shop with a friend.  And most of the stores are closed by eight."
    "When you get off?"
    "Yeah."
    "And does she do anything you like to do?"
    "Sleep."  He didn't laugh.  "That's it.  We never do anything together but shop."
    "Do you want my opinion?"
    "No, but I bet you'll still give me it."
    "Strike a compromise: you'll be home earlier, and she'll stop shopping for antiques."
    "Huh.  Like that would work."
    "Why would it not?"
    "She rules the relationship.  It's what she wants, nothing else."
    "Does she know how you feel?"
    "Yeah, that's gonna sound good - 'Hey, honey, let me tell you how I feel about this.' Do you know how hard she would laugh?  Huh...."
    "And why do you care if she laughs at you?"
    "'Cause...I don't know."
    "Do you love her?"
    "Well...." He paused.
    "Think about it."
    "What are you, some shrink or something?"
    "In a way."
    "Yes, I love her, but-"
    "Does she love you?"
    "Well, yeah, but-"
    "Then there shouldn't be a problem.  If she laughs, tell her you don't appreciate it, tell her there is a problem in the relationship, tell her it must be rectified."
    "No, no, Christian, you don't understand.  Have you ever had a girlfriend?"
    "Actually, I'm married."
    "Do y'all have problems in your relationship?"
    "You wouldn't believe."
    "How do y'all solve your problems?"
    "Prayer."
    A chuckle.  He sipped his drink.  "Look, sonny, I'm not a very religious man.  The last time I went to church was when I was when I accidentally burped when I was singing in the choir."
    "That's no reason to quit church."
    He leaned forward.  "Name one reason why I should continue."
    "To strengthen your relationship."
    "Hah.  Yeah.  Or not.  She's too stubborn."
    "Did you see these things in her when you were living separately?"
    "Yeah, she was always like that, but not as much.  She would always order for herself at the barbeque place, and she always chose the movie we went and saw."
    "Why didn't you stand up?"
    "'Cause I would get shot down."
    "How so?"
    He looked at his empty glass; the bartender was helping someone else,  at the other end of the counter.  "When I asked her pa if I could go with her, he asked me a lot of questions while I cleaned his shotgun.  Her dad's rich, he loves his daughter, and he said then that he'd kill me if I broke her heart."
    "Then why does he not help with the financial situation?"
    "Too proud.  Either that or he doesn't know.  She's too proud to tell him, probably."
    "Well, Tex, you've got to do something.  If there's a problem, you fix it."
    "But she won't listen.  Does your wife listen to you?"
    "Most of the time."
    "Well, you have a blessing there, friend.  I don't have that."
    "Why did you move in with her?"
    "'Cause I thought I loved her."
    "'Thought'?"
    "Yeah - I'm not so sure now, okay?"
    "Tex, I am just trying to help."
    "Well, you're not doing a good job of it."
    "No, you are not being a good recipient.  Now listen: you have to do something.  Do not fear her father - this is between you and her, not him.  Fix the problem, tell her what you think, then ask for her own input.  This can be done."
    Silence, as the man sweaty blew hair off his forehead.
    "So, you said you had a long day.  Start at the beginning.  You left for work early this morning...."
    He reluctantly continued.  "We had a fight last night.  I expressed some of my feelings to her - I slept on the couch."
    "What did you say?"
    "Well, I said to her, 'I'm sorry, but I'm working on this new project at work today, and I can't come home early.'  And she said something like, 'Well, this new antique mall opened up, and I wanted you to be there with me when I check it out tomorrow.' But I told her I couldn't, so she got real mad and locked me out of the bedroom.  I left for work before she woke up."
    "And then what happened?"
    "I got a call at work - it was her, and she tried to get me to come again, but I told her no.  She hung up, and I finished my project quicker than I expected."
    "But you didn't go home."
    "You bet I didn't go home.  I hate going shopping with her."
    "Does she know this?"
    "Yeah, I know, I know, we should be truthful and express our feelings.  But she doesn't listen."
    "Break up with her."
    He straightened.  "What?! Why would I do that?"
    "Let me make it simple for you, Tex: your relationship is not working out, you shouldn't be living with her and sleeping in the same bed, and this is not what you wanted when you entered this relationship.  Is it?"
    "Well, I'll sleep with a girl any day...."
    "That's not what I asked."
    "Uh, no, that's not what I wanted.  I wanted...."
    "Yes?"
    "I wanted....I'm not sure what I wanted."
    "Let's try this again: Do you love her?"
    "Yeah."
    "Do you really love her...?"
    "Yes!"
    "Or her body?"
    Silence.  A long pause.
    "You wanted sex."
    "No, I wanted her.  She was beautiful."
    "Do you still find her attractive?"
    "Well, yeah, but she makes me mad.  I can't see her beauty as much anymore because of the way she treats me."
    "So you wanted her body, but when you found out that a person comes with it, you decided you didn't want her anymore."
    "Mister, I didn't come here to be insulted.  I didn't come here for a lesson on ethics."
    "I know.  You came for a drink.  That would exclude the ethics part."
    "That's it.  I'm leaving."  He motioned for the bartender.
    "No.  Stay."
    "Why should I?"
    "Because I am trying to help you.  That's what I came here for.  To help."
    "You knew I would be here?"
    "I had a feeling."
    "But you didn't know who I was.  You asked for my name."
    "No, in reality, you volunteered it."
    He thought back.  "So?"
    "So sit back down and continue."
    "Continue what?"
    "Okay, I will continue.  You moved in because you liked her body.  That was not a smart move.  You should have known that it would not turn out to your liking."
    "I liked her body! So what!? And I moved in with her! Why does it matter?!"
    "That is the source of your problem: you do not love her, and you are sleeping with her out of wedlock.  You cannot go about doing this.  This is love.  Love is serious.  I should know."
    "Why should you know? And who are you to tell me what I should and shouldn't be doing?"
    "I am just a stranger at the bar who knows a mistake when he sees one.  And sleeping with someone you don't love is one."
    "I don't care."  The bartender instead refilled his glass again.
    "That stuff kills, you know."
    "What stuff?" He took a drink.
    "That stuff you are drinking."
    "Oh, this?"  I held it up to the light.  "Nah, this is food for the soul."
    "No, I know about food for the soul, and it most certainly is not that."
    He looked back at the other.  "So now you have problem about me drinking?"
    "I am not the one with the problem."
    "Mister, I'm gonna knock your socks off if you don't shut it."
    "Shut what?"
    "YOUR FAT MOUTH!"
    "I know why you are mad at me - because I deny what you believe in.  You believe fornication is fine, I do not.  You believe drinking is fine, I do not.  You believe lusting after someone's body whom you haven't married is fine, I do not."
    "Your point?"
    "Clean up your act.  You will have success with relationships if you do so.  Do you not agree that it is much easier to love a girl if you love her, you are married, and you are not dead drunk?"
    "No.  I love my girl-"
    "Break up with her.  If you do not love her, you either need to start, or you need to dump her."
    "And what of her pa?"
    "Do not worry about him.  You will be fine if you just do what is right."
    "Okay.  So what happens after I dump her?"
    "You go to church."
    "Yeah right."
    "No, seriously.  Go to church.  A faithful one, that follows God's will to the letter.  They will show you where to go from there.  They can show the way to a successful life, one with well-developed relationships, one that is sober, one that is pure."
    "You're full of it, y'know?"
    "Depends on what 'it' is."
    "'It' is crap."
    "Actually, I was not aware that I was full of crap, but you may believe whatever you like.  You may not enjoy where that lands you, but that is evidently where you are wanting to go."
    "What're you saying?"
    "I am saying that if you don't clean up, you are on a one-way train to hell."
    Anger flooded his eyes.  He raised his fist, slamming his glass on the counter.  "Punk, I'll show you.  Put 'em up."
    "Are you denying it?"
    "Uh, yeah," he said mockingly.
    "Then, to use your terminology, you are full of crap.  How can you possibly deny that sleeping with someone you don't have any affection for out of marriage can be right? Do you believe in God?"
    He lowered his arms.  "No."
    "Why?"
    "How can a God let there be a world with wars and evil and stuff if He loves the world? Isn't war and stuff wrong? Why would He let it exist?"
    "So you do not deny that what you are doing with your girlfriend is wrong."
    "Fine.  To some people it may be considered wrong."
    "God lets those things exist because people like you have free will and can go about sinning like that."
    "Are you equating me to people who do wars?"
    "All sin is equal in God's sight, save the unpardonable sin."
    "So you are."
    "In a way."
    "How is my . . . 'sin' . . . anything even like theirs?"
    "It is sin.  Sin is sin.  There are not classes of sins as the government proposes.  Your sin of fornication is just as bad as an explosive-rigged Palestinian destroying an Israeli mall, with the Israelis in it."
    "Huh.  I'll let you think that.  You're wrong though."
    "No, I am perfectly right.  In math, if a = c and b = c, then a = b, correct?"
    He thought.  "Yeah.  I guess."
    "Bombs are a.  Fornication is b.  Sin is c.  Get the picture?"
    "I see what you're getting at.  But all you've established is that they're both sin."
    "On the contrary, I have established their equality, in that they are the same in God's eyes."
    "God can bite me."
    "You should not say that."
    "And why not?"
    "You know why.  I already told you where you are headed if you continue with this outlook on life."
    He took another sip, but realized his glass was empty again.  He set it down and to the side.  "So what do you want me to do?"
    "Live your life like it should be lived.  God-like."
    "And how do I do that?"
    "As I said, go to church.  If your girlfriend is immoral, than get her to come to church with you.  The both of you might learn a thing or two."
    "And if I don't?"
    "Then live your life to the fullest, because if you do that, this is as good as it gets."
    "This? Sitting in a bar talking to a moron while getting drunk?"
    "This is the bottom.  There is nowhere to go but up.  Or you could stay here.  But you know what you should do.  Because if you stay here, you will go to hell.  That is all she wrote."
    He paused for a contemplative moment.  "So I'm going to hell if I don't change?"
    "Precisely.  You will burn in hell for eternity if you do not change."
    "Oh."
    "Allow me to define eternity: Say a string is stretched from the earth to the moon, and an ant is going to bring every portion of matter on Earth to the moon, one atom at a time.  By the time he has brought all of Earth to the moon and back a thousand times, eternity has only just begun."
    "Oh.  I didn't realize...."
    "Most people do not.  But that is your job.  Learn God's will.  Spread God's will.  Live God's will.  Then you will go to heaven and spend eternity in never-ending bliss."
    "Sounds nice.  But where do I start?"
    "Here.  This will help considerably."
    A Bible now lay before him.  "A Bible?"
    "Yes.  The Good Book.  Read it, memorize it, live it."
    He looked him in the eye.  "Thanks—what was it? Christian."
    "You are very welcome, Jim.  I hope to see you in heaven.  I will be waiting."
    "Hope to see you, too."  He looked at his glass and turned it over.  He then turned to shake the hand of the stranger, but he was gone.  Just vanished.  He turned to the bartender.  "Where did this guy Christian go?"
    "Christian?"
    "The guy who was just sitting here."
    "Sir, there was no one there.  There hasn't been anyone sitting there for about five hours."
    "How long have I been here?"
    "Thirty minutes."
    He thought, perplexed.  "Are you sure there was no one here? I was talking to—"
    "You were talking to yourself.  Did you not notice half the place staring at you?"
    He looked around.  Sure enough, most of the eyes in the place were turned in his direction.  "Okay.  Check please."  He paid the check, took the Bible, and left.

---------------------------------------------------------

Tex saw Christian again, seven years later, after a tragic car wreck.  He died a strong, righteous man, deacon of a local congregation.  He died with the same Bible in his hands.

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