Miss-Interpretations

                One beautiful Monday morning in early spring, my sister and I had something that was weighing heavily on our minds.  We had been to church on Sunday and this matter was pertaining to the preacher’s sermon and we felt it was time that we were doing something about it.  The preacher had preached about Joshua and said many good things about him.  He had told how he had so bravely fought in the battle of Jericho.

                We knew for sure Joshua did exist and lived close by.  This Joshua was none other than our grandfather’s old mule.  The good side of Joshua’s life had been told and the other side had to be heard.  My sister suggested that we go down to the lower end of the garden.  So away we went and erected a pulpit and some pews for our imaginary congregation.

                After a doleful song or two and a prayer, we were ready for the rest of the services.  It fell my lot to preach.  I took my text on “What Makes an Old Mule so Mean.”  I had hardly started when I looked up to see a pair of floppy ears and two big eyes coming in view over the hill.  There was no doubt, but what they belonged to old Joshua.  I knew it was time for me to get going because that ornery critter was coming in a run and I knew he was up to no good.

                I looked for my sister.  She had already crossed the fence into the garden.  I hopped upon the pulpit and made it over the fence.  I had a close call, because old Joshua was standing where I stood just seconds before.

                We still did not have an answer to our disturbing problem.  We rushed on to the house and questioned Mother about the matter.  The Preacher was right and we were right too, because the preacher’s Joshua was a good man of the Bible and our Joshua was a good for nothing old mule with a bad disposition.

By: Lula Gregory Flynn