Look Who's Righteous Now

Oh! No, he didn’t! I reached the garden out of breath, sweating profusely. I’m supposed to do that! Curse my middle-aged legs.

The young twit just finished pulling the last weed from the Shaman’s garden, giving him the lead in righteous acts – for now. I still have time to prove I’m the most righteous, assuming I don’t die first. And if we keep running like this, I might.

The twit ran towards the temple to perform some other righteous act, but instead of giving chase, I moved deeper into the temple grounds – walking, not running. Bob the Shaman explained that only the most righteous can win the Pick-a-Sacrifice tournament, but didn’t explain how to be the most righteous. Perhaps it’s more than just doing kind things for the Shaman?

An old priest carrying a large pitcher tripped and almost dropped it. Several younger priests stood around him, gasping, but did nothing to help. Now, this is clearly a righteous opportunity, if I've ever seen one. I pushed through the crowd of worthless priests and attempted to grab the pitcher. Shockingly, the old priest pulled it away. The unhelpful priests gasped again, as a drop of water tumbled over the edge and fell to the ground.

Pandemonium erupted!

Priests fell to the ground in frantic prayer. The old priest stood paralyzed with fear. Some priests ran like bees had just entered their robes, waving their arms and behaving as if the sky were falling.

Okay, I know I’m not from this planet, but this is overkill? Right? I mean, it’s just a drop of water.

“What have you done!” the old priest yelled. He remained completely still, like the pitcher would blow up if he dared move an inch.

“I’m just trying to help.”

“You made me spill the Sacred Water from the Ladder God’s well!”

The wailing prayers intensified.

“Okay, guys, that’s enough. I can’t think over your whining.”

One of the wailing priests stopped wailing long enough to chew me out. “We must pray fervently for forgiveness for dropping the holy water, or the Ladder God will punish us.”

I don’t know about the Ladder God, but I’m about to punish them if they don’t quit their obnoxious racket. I shook my head at the pathetic scene, “Seriously, guys, there's nothing to get all excited about."

That did it. They stopped wailing, looking at me like I had just kicked over a baby stroller.

“Blasphemy,” one whispered. Too timid to come right out and say it.

Soon, the other priests joined in with defiant whispers of "blasphemy." I’m not proud of what I did next, but seeing several men on their knees whispering “blasphemy” made me laugh. I just couldn’t take them seriously.

“Now he laughs at the Ladder God,” a priest whispered.

“You’re going to have to stop this whispering thing,” I said. “And let me know how I can help fix this.”

The old priest took charge and let me have it. “You can’t fix losing holy water! You must atone for the loss by sacrificing what you value most! It’s the only way we can avoid punishment.”

My first thought was of Alora. He ain’t getting her. She’s the best android co-pilot I’ve ever had. Actually, she’s the only android co-pilot I’ve ever had, but that’s beside the point. Then there’s my ship, but that’s not going to happen either. What could I sacrifice?

“Do you have any suggestions?” I asked.

“It’s obvious. Resign from the Pick-a-Sacrifice tournament. There is nothing more valuable than sacrificing yourself to the Ladder God."

When this tournament started, I wanted nothing more than to lose. And now that Alora talked me into winning, I have to give up?

“What kind of atonement can I get for a close second?”

The old priest said nothing.

How can I let that young twit win when I’ve come so close? And if I don’t win, how will I obtain the dylanium needed for my powerless ship? The only source we found is at the top of the Ladder God’s ladder. But I can’t allow them to be punished for my mistake.

“I’ll do it.” My shoulders drooped. I’ve lost. I just condemned us to rot on this primitive planet.

The old priest led me to the Ladder God’s well and helped me through the ritual. It involved an odd dance, going clockwise around the well, with flailing arms and moving my knees like in the old Charleston dance. Then I had to dance counterclockwise around the well, moving like a wild ape. Finally, ending with a chant, “I give what I value,” three times with a deep voice, followed by an additional three times with a shrill voice.

Some said my shrill voice sounded more like a little girl screaming, but no matter how it sounded, the result ended my chance to win the tournament.

At sunset, the priests escorted me and the twit to stand before Bob the Shaman. He pounded his staff on the ground, signaling the beginning of the last ceremony before the great sacrifice. In a short while, Bob would announce this year's winner. Of course, I ruined the anticipation, since everyone knew I resigned.

“Drew Williams and Tag have proven they are the most righteous by overcoming judgment, relying on faith, and demonstrating kindness and selflessness. These traits make a righteous man. Unfortunately, the great Ladder God only accepts one sacrifice a year.”

Throughout this entire tournament, I still can’t see the idea of sacrificing oneself as a good thing, but the locals can’t get enough of it. They’re just sorry they can only do it once a year.

“Kindness and selflessness are woven together like a braided rope. Without selflessness, kindness could be used to obtain favor and gain recognition. And while I’m on that note, I want to thank Tag for weeding my garden, polishing my silverware, dusting my bookshelves, including a few that didn’t belong to me, and sweeping my bedroom even though I was clearly napping at the time. I’m indebted to you, and you are obviously a really awesome person.”

The priest cheered and hooted. Tag bowed and acted all humble, but he had such a big head, you couldn’t have fit it through the temple gates if you tried. I’ve never seen a more prideful person.

Bob raised his staff to silence the crowd. “However, Drew did something I’ve never seen. He selflessly sacrificed his greatest desire to help an old priest avoid punishment by resigning from the tournament.”

The priests mumbled with hushed tones.

“He demonstrated true kindness and selflessness, and since the rules clearly state that no one can resign from the tournament, I declare that Drew is the winner of the Pick-a-Sacrifice tournament.”

The priests went nuts: whistling, cheering, hooting, and bowing to anyone or anything. I saw one bow to a tree, looking very embarrassed, but still having a good time.

It took a minute to sink in. I’m going to climb the ladder and find out what’s really up there. I don’t believe in Ladder Gods, but that ladder sure looks a lot like a ship’s ladder.

One way or another, I’m going to find out, but I really hope it’s not a Ladder God. That would really suck.

I vanquished the thought from my mind because right now, it’s time to party! I just won the tournament! Look who’s righteous now!