Thursday, September 29, 2011

Through Bleary Eyes - Esther 7

Esther 7

Things were about to get a lot worse for Haman. If you have a queasy stomach, you may just want to skip over the end of this little chapter. Fair warning.

Haman arrived at the castle, met up with King Xerxes, and the two of them joined Esther for tacos in the cafeteria. Haman didn’t have much of an appetite, but did his best to pretend to enjoy himself. After finishing off his flan, the King sat back with his Margarita glass and admired his beautiful Queen. He remembered his desire to give her a special gift, brought out his checkbook and, pen paused in the air, asked her what little trinket she’d decided on. It was the moment of truth.

“Remember,” he said with a smile, “only up to half of my kingdom. Don’t get greedy now!”

Esther drew herself up to her full stature, looking more elegant and royal than the King had ever seen her. Mordecai would have been proud.

“Your Majesty,” she began in earnest, using his full name, “if it’s true that you are over the moon for me and willing to show such amazing generosity, then the thing I’m asking you to give me is my very life. I’m also asking you to spare the lives of my people. All of us, my people and myself, have been betrayed and will certainly be murdered in cold blood—annihilated—unless you step in. If we were only being sold into slavery, we could take it, though, and in that case I would never ask for your intervention.”

King Xerxes was stunned.

“Who did this?” he demanded. “What’s his name?”

Haman tried to blend in to the Persian rug.

“This vile man eating at our table,” she exclaimed, pointing. “Haman—enemy of the state!”

The King stood up in a rage, nearly knocking over a jar of salsa. Fists clenched, he quickly strode out to the garden to collect his thoughts before coming back in to commit homicide. Haman was terrified. He couldn’t run. There was nowhere to hide. Brought down by a woman, and a Jew at that, he began to cry like a little girl, literally throwing himself onto Queen Esther, who had taken a seat on the couch, and begged her to spare his pathetic life.

Just at that moment, Xerxes burst back into the room, surveyed the scene, and lost his cool.

“Who do you think you are? Now you molest my wife while she’s here with me?”

It was as good as a death sentence. Seemingly out of nowhere (cuz the Bible cuts to the chase a lot like that), the royal executioners appeared, threw a flour sack over Haman’s head and waited for orders from the King.

One of the eunuchs knew about the shish kabob pole out in the courtyard and commented, “There’s a 75 foot pole outside that Haman erected to kill Mordecai on—remember him? The man who saved you from the teenage assassins that time?”

Haman tried to glare at him, but it was hard to see through that flour sack.

So, here’s the part where you may want to skip to chapter eight.

Rage filled the King.

“Is that so?” he said with a smirk. “Well, what goes around comes around. He sealed his own doom,” . . .

Okay, I have a weak stomach and can’t tell you how they decorated that huge May pole out in the courtyard. I’m skipping on to chapter eight. Suffice it to say, the King’s anger subsided and Haman’s wife became a widow.

Her mother was right—she should never have married that loser.

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