This Story is dedicated to my Father.
He is always there for me,
And I wish him a very happy birthday.
If the rest of my family expected anything sincere or heartfelt, allow me a moment to quietly laugh at you.
Well ok, you’re always there for me as well but hey, it’s not your birthday. So there!
Happy Birthday Dad!
St. Peter’s Church, in Hingleberry, boasted nothing special except a lovely organ. The organ itself was beautiful and could play such a lovely tune it would attract people from miles off. Perhaps this was something to do with the fact that the organist was none other than Tim Rishton himself!
The vicar’s name was John, not after the disciple but John Lennon from the Beatles. John was a reasonably good vicar but he had a tendency to go on for a bit about odd subjects.
One day, when John was droning on about Jesus delivering us from sin (which was one of his better subjects), Tim decided to play Postman Pat for the next hymn. This, of course had the entire congregation falling off the pews and clutching their sides with laughter.
Another time John was talking about the Holy Spirit and Jesus. Tim got a little bored, and it’s always difficult sitting on a hard organ bench all morning. So he made, out of some lined music paper, a paper airplane and let it fly down from the gallery and crash into John's head. Again the congregation thought it was hilarious.
Tim had several children and noticed that one of them had bought a flying ball thing with her pocket money. On Sunday morning Tim asked if he may borrow it. The daughter let him but only for a hefty fee. So naturally Tim made it fly around John's head.
Tim’s antics were bringing more people to the church, but John had had enough. “I’ve had enough!” John shouted in the vestry after another service of pure embarrassment for him. “If you don’t behave from now on, you’re fired!” John exited the room in a rage. So Tim decided to sharpen his act and take a book instead. The only problem with this was that he was sometimes a little late for playing the hymns.
One day, a few weeks later, Tim was leaning over the banister, listening to a sermon about socks, when out from the organ came the tune “Oranges and lemons,” Tim leapt out of his skin, as did the rest of the congregation. “Tim!” there came a yell of rage from somewhere down below, “You’ve done it now! I am a man of my word, YOU’RE FIRED! ” So Tim packed his bags and left, despite not having done anything.
The next organist was a timid young man with a mousy face and overly large round glasses. When he played it sounded like an organ that a mouse had eaten and then been pulled up out of the sewer!
During the sermon, which was about fish, Mr. Gerrade, for that was his name, was leaning out across the banister, as Tim had done the previous week, when there came a wonderful version of Bach sonate IV. Poor Mr. Gerrade was so shocked that he leapt right off the gallery and had to be rushed to hospital, but the organ music kept on playing. “Tim! What have you done!?!” yelled John, but Tim had taken early retirement and was in Spain.
The next organist was called Mr. Khatamara. Mr. Katamara was a huge beefy man who looked as though he could just bend the organ around a pencil. He played surprisingly well, apart from the fact that it sounded like he was hitting each note with a sledgehammer!
John preached about God's love and generosity. Mr. Khatamara was asked down to do something or other, but everyone knew that John wanted to see whether or not it was the organist who was playing the organ.
Once again this time the tune “Bright eyes” floated out from the gallery. It was so clear and pure that you could almost hear the words:
“Is it a kind of dream,
Floating out on the tide,
Following the river of death downstream?
Oh, is it a dream?
There's a fog along the horizon,
A strange glow in the sky,
And nobody seems to know where you go,
And what does it mean?
Oh, is it a dream?
Bright eyes,
Burning like fire.
Bright eyes,
How can you close and fail?
How can the light that burned so brightly
Suddenly burn so pale?
Bright eyes.”
Before Mr. Katamara started tramping up the stairs towards the organ and it suddenly stopped. People snapped out of trances and dreams and started muttering. Eventually someone suggested that they film it during the next service and then they could find out if there was anything visible.
“Mr. Katamara, do come and help me with my sermon about cats,” John’s voice rang out through the microphone. Mr. Katamara clunked downstairs to hold a stuffed cat. Soon the sad tune: “Goodbye” came out of the organ. Despite only being a tune it raised many a tear for it reflected pure sadness.
Later, in the vestry, everyone of churchly importance crowded round the tiny video camera screen and watched as an amazing thing happened before their very own eyes. Two ferrets came out dragging a third, dead one. The two promptly began playing Goodbye on the organ and then stuffed the dead ferret down a hole. The ferret was later retrieved, stuffed and put on display. The two others were never seen or heard again. Tim got his job back and was only mischievous now and again.
The End