John Frum The Reluctant Messiah

I Am Not John Frum

It was hot. Sticky, stagnant, Louisiana-in-July-hot inside the bure' and there lying on an elevated, single bed of palm fronds was John's nearly naked body. Surrounding him were the small bits and pieces recovered from Miss Edna and a number of Aiden's personal items that had fallen from her open cockpit. They had bathed him removing all remnants of the chalky, white ash, and dressed his many scrapes and cuts with a pasty yellow salve. 

All except his face. There, someone had taken great care to create an angelic, kabuki white face with black lips and incredibly detailed eyes painted on the backs of his eyelids. It was drawn in such a way that the eyes seemed to be looking at you no matter where you were. It gave him a very peaceful albeit creepy, attentive look even as he continued his dart-induced coma.

It had been nearly a week since his impromptu treetop landing, and he drifted in and out of consciousness the entire time. His only memory was that of short, hazy views of a beautiful young woman's face, the face of an angel, peering down while compassionately caring for him. That vision became the compelling force that enabled him to finally awaken fully. His eyes fluttered and then, with great effort, opened wide for the first time.

His first glimpse of his new world was not that of an angel, but that of Sam's face, less than an inch from his and sniffing him. Sam, who was somewhere between 70 and 170 (suffice to say no one can remember a day when Sam wasn't old) had a face that more closely resembled that of an old, leather seat cushion from a well-worn parlor chair with bright expressive eyes and a permanent toothy smile. Sam had a large, pink foam finger that he proudly wore on his head. In another E.T. and Drew Barrymore moment, John recoiled in horror and surprise as did Sam, knocking most of the carefully placed artifacts to the floor.

"Tangohia te reira atu! Hoki te karauna ki a ia!" yelled Heylia, Sams youngest granddaughter.

"Take it off! Return the crown to him!"

Sam respectfully bowed, removed the stadium finger from his head, and carefully offered it to John in a manner one would expect if one were presenting the crown jewels. John motioned no and for the first time looked around him. There were hundreds of novelty trinkets surrounding his shrine-like bed. That, and copious bowls of never-before-seen fruit.

Sam's smile had returned, and he was enthusiastically nodding as he asked, "Ko koe Hoani Frum, Ae?" John's eyes narrowed in confusion. Almost immediately Sam grimaced and switched to broken English.

"You are John Frum? Yes?" John studied Sam's face trying to clear the cobwebs. Slowly it sunk in.

"No. No, John Ferrum."

"From America." Sam was still nodding.

"Yes, but..." John ran his fingers through his hair and winced as he touched a tender spot. Sam and his granddaughter Heylia turned, wide-eyed and smiling at one another.

"See!? What I tell? John Frum!" an ecstatic Sam concluded as he pounded his cane into the hard, clay floor. He had one of those laughs that make no sound for the first little bit and then suddenly slides in. He looked heavenward with palms uplifted in thanks.

"Ferrum. John Ferrum," John emphasized.

"Yes. Yes. Yes," still nodding, still smiling. "You. Have. Returned."

Tears were now beginning to fill his eyes and Heylia reached over to console him. John still trying to grasp what was happening,

"What? Oh... no.... uh... oh wow ...it's uh, a mistake. I'm-"

"I have waited...so long!" Sam exclaimed. "Every night at airfield looking to sky...but I knew! I knew... you would see lights, and plane... and you come!" Young Heylia turned to Sam and reassured him.

"Things be good now." She turned to John, "His legs be heal now and-"

"Oh... wait uh... I'm really not...him," John interrupted. John realized that Sam's gaze had drifted to something behind him, and he cautiously turned to see what it was. Hanging directly behind John was Aiden's SpongeBob, Square Pants bathrobe. They had retrieved it from the wreckage, placed it on display, and adorned it with candles and more bowls of unrecognizable sacrificial fruit. Sam seemed transfixed by it.

"If I could just touch-" Sam looked longingly at it.

"It's just a goofy robe! And I'm not-"

Sam wasn't listening and began to reach towards it. "One touch and my legs will be-"

WHACK!

"You not touch Messiah's sacred garment!!" an elderly woman recoiled her long stick readying it for another smackdown.

John's head dropped. "Ahh Geez! Listen..."

Sam was still smiling and nodding. "We go now. Take you to airfield, Yes?"

"Later grandfather, later. He must rest," Heylia said.

"I have to find out about my friend and-"

"Who friend?" Sam interrupted.

"Uhh, his name is Aiden. He's-"

The room exploded in unison, "Aiden! Aiden!!" Everyone was smiling and nodding, repeating his name.

"You know him?" John asked. Everyone in the room was now laughing.

"He say to give you Kava," the elderly woman told him. "Kava take away the sick, John Frum."

John was excited. And hopeful. "So, he was here!?"

"Yes," the elderly woman confirmed. "He come back for you. No worry."

"Yes. Yes." Sam was still grinning and nodding. "Thank you, John Frum."

"I AM NOT JOHN FRUM!!" an exasperated John shouted. Sam was shaking his head, laughing, and shaking a scolding finger at him.

"You... you make such joke... John Frum!"

John closed his eyes and let his head fall back in sheer frustration. Still laughing, Sam turned and hobbled towards the door on what must have been two badly crippled legs. He turned every couple of steps to deliver a series of genuflecting bows, all the while singing a broken English version of 'God Bless America.'

"God bless Amereekah, land that I loaf..."

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