Centuries after the Eastern Orthodox Church began celebrating the Epiphany, the Roman Catholic Church decided to start doing so too. But for some reason, the Western Church really latched on to this image of the Persian priests bringing gifts of frankincense, myrrh, and gold to the infant Jesus, guided from their homeland of Iran by a shining star. The Magi are mentioned only in Matthew’s Gospel and he never specified how many magi there were — just that there were three gifts. In 1857, the Reverend John Henry Hopkins Jr. wrote some lyrics for a seminary Christmas pageant, a song that begins: “We three kings of Orient are / Bearing gifts we traverse afar / Field and fountain, moor and mountain / Following yonder star.”
(The Writer’s Almanac, January 6, 2010)
The scene: a roadside on the outskirts of a small town in the Middle East. It is morning, lots of years ago. Three travelers sit beside a fire, waiting for a pot to boil, warming their hands, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Their names are Balthasar, Melchior, and… uh… The Other Guy.
Balthasar: So… so that’s it, then?
Melchior: I know what you mean. I thought — well, I don’t know, it is the holidays and all, but still… I was sorta hoping they’d at least ask us to spend the night. Heck, didn’t have to be a freebie, I would’ve paid for a stall—
Balthasar: (interrupting) With what? Your good looks?
Melchior: Ha! Yes. The damn frankincense was all I brought with me.
Balthasar: Aye. And I, my gold.
The Other Guy: (shakes head, demurring*)
Balthasar: (watching The Other Guy but speaking out of the side of his mouth to Melchior) Who’d you say this guy was again?
Melchior: (whispering) Me? You’re the one who asked him to join us!
Balthasar: But he had a camel for chrissake. We were on foot until he showed up, remember? Come to think of it, we still are.
Melchior: (nods, ponders) Have to admit, I’m surprised we even found the place.
Balthasar: Did we? I mean really, how do we know?
Melchior: Well, they looked like they were expecting us—
Balthasar: You’re kidding, right? Expecting specifically us, you say. Like the line of shepherds and livestock and those freaks with wings—
Melchior: Yeah! and white robes, too, can you believe it? Labor Day was months ago!
Balthasar: —the whole line of ’em ahead of us, leading to the barn, winding down the street and around the block. Expecting us, you say. More like can’t wait to get rid of us. Guy in front of me said he’d been standing there for almost two weeks.
Melchior: (rubs hands together, holds them palm out) True. Worse than waiting for the first Wii, remember that?
Balthasar: (confused) Not yet I don’t.
They sit in silence for a few minutes. The Other Guy stands, stretches, goes to the camel, kneels, offers it some food and water. The camel seems to accept this at first, chewing contentedly for one, two, three cycles, then spits it into The Other Guy’s face.
Balthasar: (suppressing laughter, nudging Melchior in ribs, pointing with his chin at The Other Guy) A metaphor there, ain’t it?
Melchior: Yes. I am so ready to be rid of him. Whoever he is. Rid of him and on our way home… Er, speaking of which—
Balthasar: Hmm?
Melchior: Well, I don’t want to sound cynical but I don’t suppose you’ve got a map for the way home?
Balthasar: The way home? Why would we need a map — just turn around, put the star behind us, and start walking.
Melchior: Still with the star.
Balthasar: Eh?
Melchior: I tried to explain before but you wouldn’t listen. The star’s no good.
Balthasar: Brought us here, didn’t it?
Melchior: No. That’s what I’m trying to tell you — we’re no closer to “here” than we’d be without the star. The star’s up there, we’re down here, we could’ve walked for another thousand miles and the damn star would still be right where it is.
Balthasar: You don’t know anything about geography, do you? Or for that matter about astronomology, as I decided to call it when the author’s fingers rushed a little too quickly over the keyboard.
The Other Guy: (speaking over his shoulder to them as the camel gets to its feet) Maybe he don’t know about them things but he knows more about proprioception than you do.
Balthasar: That’s it, now I’ve had it with you. Take your camel and your fancy diction and hit the—
(Camel urinates on fire)
Balthasar: Jesus, man, rein the damned beast in— (stops, choking, as head is wreathed in sulfurous steam)
Melchior: (from other side of road, laughing, barely able to speak) Have a nice trip home, B!
(They go their separate ways.)
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* Tom Swifty provided free of charge.
cynth says
The other guy was Gaspar…I like the fact that you have them say, “Crissakes,” which of course is the whole point of the thing…for Chris-sake…oh, never mind. Good one John.
Froog says
I don’t like to speculate on how Epiphany, Tom Swifties, and a memory lapse in regard to The Magi came together in your fevered brain like this, John.
Not that you really have a “usual” output, of course; but insofar as you do, sort, this seems to fall well outside it!
s.o.m.e.one's brudder says
I think I spotted a typo. Shouldn’t it have been: “Wii Three Kings?”
John says
cynth: I knew about the other guy, but when I first started writing the entry it was as a writing exercise — just to write it start to finish as fast as I could. Later, I did make some changes/corrections, but calling him The Other Guy for some reason cracked me up. (I am sometimes easily amused.)
Froog: The idea of a scene with Three (or however many) confused but nonetheless Wise Men sitting around in a Beckettian landscape came to me a couple days ago, commenting on an Epiphany-related post elsewhere. Everything else just sort of happened.
(Oh, and I did check the Life of Brian script to be sure I hadn’t unintentionally “cribbed” anything from that.)
brudder: Damn!
That’s the problem with having smart readers and commenters — somebody will almost always come up with a twist I should’ve thought of myself. :)