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Fernald Smithers had only recently turned seventeen and looked considerably younger, with a thin, lanky frame. He honestly looked like he didn't belong behind the wheel of the old Jeep Wagoneer as it lurched to a stop along the curb. In the passenger seat sat a shiny imitation leather briefcase, bought cheap, and inside it was the Word he was intent on spreading. So far, though, not many people on his assigned route had seemed particularly interested in what he or the Bible had to say.

This was the last street on his route, the last one for miles in this area which was still being developed, and it was the least inviting of all of them. A rather long car-lined street terminating in a circle, with many new-looking houses. A recent addition to the subdivision. What made it look so uninviting to him was that it had no trees. Not a one. Lots of expansive green lawns and some shrubs and bushes, but no trees, nothing to provide any shade. And it was a very, very hot day.

Cutting the engine, he opened the door and got out. He grimaced at the heat and the sun beating down mercilessly. He already had some mild sweat stains under the arms of his short-sleeved white shirt. His necktie was loosened but he tightened it to make himself look more presentable and then, grabbing the briefcase, he shut the car door and headed off down the sidewalk. He was conservatively dressed: white shirt, dark slacks and a brown belt with a cell phone and a pager clipped to it; only his blue tie with light purple stripes stood out. A pair of too-big and very out of style tortoiseshell sunglasses were perched on his short muzzle.

As he got to the first house and stepped up to the front door, he removed his sunglasses and slid them into his shirt pocket, straightened himself up a bit, and then rang the doorbell. The door was answered a little bit later by a pleasant-looking plump cow in a way too tight shirt and stretchy pants.

"Yes?" she said sweetly, smiling.

"Hello!" Fernald said, grinning broadly. "How are you today?"

"Fine, I suppose," the cow replied.

"Good to know, ma'am," he said. He went on smiling. It hurt to smile so big, but Pastor Dick had told him at the prayer meet it was best to act and look friendly. "I'm from the Church of Light and Reverence, and I was wondering if I might have a moment or two of your time?"

At this the woman's smile faltered. Instantly Fernald felt as though he'd misstepped somehow. "Uh, sorry, honey," she said, her smile returning, if a bit less earnestly. "We got to the Catholic church up on forty seventh."

Aha, thought Fernald, Catholics, I know how to handle this. "That's okay, ma'am, I have something here just for you, then."

He opened his briefcase and fished around inside of it. The woman crossed her arms, looking impatient. Still smiling, her gave her an apologetic look for the wait, before finally pulling out a tract written and drawn by Pastor Dick whose content essentially boiled down to how Catholicism was a secret tool of Islamic extremists to undermine the true word of God. Fernald frowned as he started holding it out to her. This woman seemed nice. Did he really want to give her this thing? He had some other anti-Catholic tracts which were less... well, blunt, but they were back in the car. It would be rude to make this nice woman wait while he went and got them, but even ruder to hand her this, at least not without explaining its context first.

Before he could decide what to do, the bovine woman took it. She read the title aloud. "Catholicism: The Tool of Islam." He lifted her burning eyes at the short squirrel who'd given her the tract.

Fernald kept his now painful smile as wide and cheerful as possible even though the look in the woman's eyes made him very uneasy. "It's... it's like a comic, kind of," he managed to say. "Ma'am, I, uh, I apologize, I have some... gentler ones in my car." He winced. He didn't know any other way to put it.

As predicted, the tract was flung back at him, bounced off his forehead and hit the slamming front door as the woman closed it, and then it fell down to the welcome mat at his feet. Fernald sighed and snatched it up, stuffing it back into his briefcase. Lord, why did Pastor Dick insist on giving half the things such inflammatory titles? Didn't he realize that angering people whose souls they were trying to save would make them even more reluctant to attend their church? Fernald was determined not to lose this woman however. He felt bad for offending her, and wanted very much to apologize and also lead her to the truth of God's Word.

Uncertain of what to do, he opened the rear door of the Wagoneer and dug through the other tracts he had in a plastic shopping bag to find some other tract that warned of the evils of Catholicism without immediately insulting the reader with its title. He settled on one called "Jesus Loves Catholics." It boiled down to the same thing as Catholicism: The Tool of Islam, but was a bit of an easier read, and had a more hopeful message, as its title implied. Smiling, Fernald returned to the house as discretely as possible, and placed both Jesus Loves Catholics and a pamphlet for the church and his business card with his cell phone number on the doorstep, then returned to the Wagoneer.

He spent the next few minutes sorting through the tracts to separate them into two groups. The ones with nice-sounding titles ("God Loves the Jews") he kept. The meaner ones ("Jews and Satan" and "Gays Are Destroying America") he discarded onto the floorboard and then slammed the door. Putting his sunglasses back on he resumed his trek.

He had a better luck at the next house, where one more he took his sunglasses off. Here, a middle-aged donkey actually invited him inside and they spoke for some time about God, the Bible and Pastor Dick's church. The donkey was already a Christian, he said, but non-practicing. Fernald gently urged him that if he wanted, he could come by the Church of Light and Reverence and perhaps find it to his liking if he wanted to start worshiping again. After giving it some thought, the donkey said he'd consider it. Excited, Fernald had given him his card and the church's pamphlet, and left after shaking hands and saying he hoped he saw the man there.

Outside, he clicked his heels and pumped his fist. "Yes!" he said. "Got one! Oh, thank you, Lord!" He smiled skyward for as long as he could stand the bright sun, and then slid the sunglasses back on and moved on.

Of course, it was a small triumph. Fernald had only persuaded a lapsed Christian to return to the fold. His main goal was to convert some, to truly turn them to the true faith. If he could find an honest to goodness atheist, Muslim or Jew and convince them to become a Christian, he would really have accomplished something wonderful then, and made Pastor Dick proud. Or if he could convince a gay or a lesbian person to renounce their sinful ways. That would be something, too.

Secretly however, he hoped he didn't encounter any, he thought as he trudged along down the sidewalk in the summer heat. Gays, anyway. Dealing with homosexuals made him a bit nervous. He wasn't afraid of them, and he didn't hate them, either. However, last year, he and his friend Castor Wilkes, a boy in the same youth group as him, had experienced an awkward encounter while doing Bible study over at Castor's house while Mr. and Mrs. Wilkes were away.

Castor was a tall and handsome feline who was a year older than him. It had been around this time of year, too, and so very hot. Even with the AC going it had been rather hot, especially upstairs in Castor's room. Deciding that because it was "just us guys," they'd both decided to strip down to their underwear, each a pair of tightfitting cotton briefs. As they went over Bible verses together, lying on the bed, the feline boy's leg at slid against Fernald's bare thigh. Fernald couldn't quite describe how it happened, but he had become erect from this, and, taking note upon glancing over, so had Castor, which caused him to get aroused, as well. The fronts of their briefs were rather obscenely bulged outwards.

They'd spent some time awkwardly lying there blushing and staring at each other before Castor timidly asked if the squirrel wanted to touch him there. Fernald had refused, then slightly relented, reaching out a little, before deciding against it. An aggravated Castor however had taken him by the wrist and moved his hand between his legs and in reflex Fernald had cupped and held the older boy's package. He very vividly recalled Castor groping him in return and saying, "Mmm, yeah, that's nice..." before suddenly shoving him away, looking embarrassed.

After a brief argument over whether what they'd done was gay or not, they mutually agreed it hadn't been and returned to their studying. But Fernald had not gone back to that house since then, and now he only saw Castor briefly sometimes at church and they rarely spoke. Consequently, Fernald felt nervous talking to gay people because it reminded him that he had almost had his own homosexual experience once and it had hurt his friendship with someone he'd known since preschool. And he wasn't gay, he insisted to himself! He was in love with Dalila! He had never told her, or Pastor Dick, or anyone, he he hoped Castor had done the same.

He shook the memories away and went about his route. House by house, one at a time, down the street and around the circle. No luck at the next few houses, really. At least at these he didn't actually make anyone mad. He just got a few polite "No thank you"s and lots of doors shut in his face. One or two of the people did halfheartedly accept the pamphlets and tracts, but none of them actually invited him in. Fortunately, a few of them did give him some refreshment there on the front porch upon noticing how hot he was. Thank God, he thought, for the kindness of strangers, even if they weren't interested in what he had to say.

The ones who didn't accept the material, he left them on their doormats for them to hopefully find later. He knew some of his friends from church put them in the person's mailbox, but Fernald had heard somewhere that was illegal for some reason. Heading on his way, he ruminated on why evangelizing was becoming so difficult lately. He'd converted a few people in the past. Why was it so hard now? Especially today. Maybe, he thought, he was just off his game. Probably the heat. Still, he pressed on.

As the afternoon slowly trudged into evening, he'd completed the circle and almost all of the houses on the opposite side of the street and the sweltering heat was beginning to get to Fernald. His clothes were damp with sweat and it trickled down his face and even fogged up his sunglasses a little bit. His briefcase was beginning to feel heavier and heavier.

"Lord, you do put me through the wringer," he muttered as he took out a napkin and wiped his forehead and face. "But even if I save only one soul today, it'll be worth it."

There were two houses left. He went to the first one, grateful for its covered porch which provided shade. He knocked. A tall, burly ram answered.

"Yeah?" he asked. He was wearing a sleeveless undershirt and loose pants.

"Hello, sir," Fernald said. He realized he'd forgotten to take his sunglasses off, as per his little procedure. He did so now, slipping them into his pocket and smiling. "I'm from the Church of Light and Reverence and I was wondering if--"

"Ah, I figured it was something like that," the ram said. "I saw you going up and down the street, door to door. Figured you'd swing by here eventually. Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but I'm not interested."

"Oh, uh, I see," Fernald mumbled. His smile faltered slightly. "Can I, uh, leave you with some tracts you might be interested in?"

"Naw," the ram said, "Get lost."

He shut the door. Without bothering to put his sunglasses back on, Fernald left the relative comfort of the porch's shade and headed wearily across the lawn, stopping on the sidewalk. He sighed. One house left. He turned and looked at it, debating whether or not to go. His Wagoneer was right across the street where he'd left it. But then he decided he shouldn't falter in his mission. One more house meant one more potential soul to win. Besides, it wouldn't take long. He walked up to it. This, too, had a covered porch and he took a moment to let himself cool in its shade for a bit before he rang the doorbell.

As he waited he noticed that nearby, some young children were playing in a fire hydrant whose water was spewing into the street. Watching them, Fernald smiled, realizing he missed being a kid. The innocence of youth. Completely unaware of God and Satan, good and evil, the eternal struggle people like him were trying to win.

After a bit, the door opened and a middle-aged alligator in a striped T-shirt and brown slacks stood framed in the doorway. He was very tall and thickly built, very muscular, and also had a very large belly which offset his otherwise athletic build and stretched his shirt tightly. He smiled down at his visitor.

"Hello," he said. "What can I do for you, young fellow?"

Despite not really feeling up to it, Fernald smiled and said, "Hi, uh, I was wondering if I could come in for a moment. I'm from the Church of Light and Reverence and I have some good news to tell you."

The alligator stood there and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Good news, huh?" he asked.

Fernald nodded. "Yes, sir, possibly the greatest news you could ever receive!" he said with forced enthusiasm.

"Well," said the alligator, opening the door wider and standing to one side to make room, "why don't you come inside? It's hot as hell for one thing, and good news ought to be delivered in more comfortable surroundings, sitting down."

The squirrel couldn't possibly believe his luck! His grin became genuine and he entered and felt the cool air of the house. "Oh, thank you," he said.

"Don't mention it," the gator said and led the way into a spacious and expensively furnished living room. He gestured to a low tan couch with a coffee table in front of it. "Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? Some lemonade or milk, perhaps? You look like you've suffered quite a bit out there."

Smiling and feeling confident, Fernald nodded. He was thirsty. "That would be great! Thanks! Gosh, it is such a hot day, isn't it?"

"It sure is," the alligator replied, and petted Fernald gently on the head and stroking one of his eartips. "Hang on while I go and get it."

He turned and left, leaving Fernald alone in the room. The squirrel blinked at the head pet, and seemed a little confused at the stroking of his ear. He shrugged it off, though. The AC was on, but not too high. After all, the owner was a reptile, giving the house a cool but somewhat humid feel to it. Fernald didn't mind. Thankful for a chance to sit and also put his burden down, he sat on the couch and gently put his briefcase down on the ornate glass coffee table in front of him, mindful of his host's furniture.

He opened it and frim within slowly and carefully drew numerous items: two King James Bibles, two brochures - one for his youth group and for his church - as well as various forms and a pen and pencil and the tracts he'd gotten out of the Wagoneer earlier. One Bible was his personal one; it looked worn and dog-earred and was bound in dull brown leather; the other was the "freebie," bound in imitation black leather, brand new, one of several he was to give out. He had lots more in the back of the Wagoneer.

Also inside the briefcase, but not removed, were some of his personal effects, including a small wooden cross he'd whittled one day out of boredom, and, hidden underneath more extraneous papers, a photo of him and Dalila, a lion girl who was the closest thing to a girlfriend he had. Noticing it, he absently used a fingertip to push it fully under the paper and out of side, before resuming his work. He arranged everything with infinite care and devotion, and when the alligator returned and handed him a glass of cold milk, he accepted it and smiled.

"Thank you," he said, taking a sip. "Mmm, it's delicious."

"You're welcome. By the way, the name is George." The gator stuck his hand out. "George Prather. I coach basketball at the local high school."

Fernald shook it and the hand was so big it eclipsed his, gripping it firmly but gently. It was warm and pleasant.

"Please to meet you Mr. Prather," he said. He didn't recognize him, as he had been taken out of public school by his parents and home schooled. His mother didn't like them teaching evolution in class. Fernald found it fascinating, even if it was probably science fiction, but Mrs. Smithers had been adamant.

"Just call me George," George insisted with a gentle smile.

"Uh, sure," said Fernald. "And my name is Fernald Smithers."

After letting go of Fernald's hand, George stood back and looked down at the things Fernald had taken out of his briefcase, slipping his hands into his pants pockets.

"You a missionary?" he asked.

"Yes," Fernald said.

"Thought so, being from the Church of Light and Reverence and all."

He turned and sat down in a large leather armchair across from Fernald and crossed one leg over the other, hands folded in his lap. The chair creaked audibly with his weight. He was smiling benignly.

"Okay, so, what's this great news?" he asked.

Sipping some more milk and then setting the half empty glass aside, Fernald began by asking, "Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?"

George seemed to mull it over. There was a certain mischief in his eyes. He did not answer yes or no. Instead, he asked, "Should I?"

"Well, of course," said Fernald. "If you don't, your soul my be damned to eternal hell."

This got no reaction from George. The alligator kept on smiling benignly at him.

"Sin is inherent in all of us, ever since the Garden of Eden," the squirrel went on. "However, the sins of everyone were forgiven when Jesus Christ died on the cross. His blood washed away everyone's sins. But Satan is alive and well in the world today. He doesn't want people to know that all they have to do is pray a simple little prayer and accept Jesus into their hearts, and they can be saved."

George nodded as he listened with apparent intent. "And if I do this I'll get to go to heaven?" he asked.

Fernald nodded. "The Church of Light and Reverance is fully committed to fighting his evil influence. I'd like to personaly extend my offer of friendship to you, and ask if you'd be interested in joining our church."

As he spoke, he picked up the second, newer Bible and offered it to George who accepted it with one large hand. He opened it up and flipped through it. Fernald was overjoyed. He'd never reached anyone in this manner before.

"Mmm," said George, "I dunno. Can I have some time to think about it?"

"Well, I guess," said Fernald, a little worried suddenly. "But, time is of the essence. If you don't do it now and something happens later tonight or the next day..." He trailed off.

Pastor Dick had told him many times of the consequences of an unsaved person dying before they'd had a chance to say yes. Even if George had expressed interest in converting, if he were to suffer some accident before accepting Jesus, then the alligator's name wouldn't appear in the Book of Life, and he'd be cast by he angles into the fiery pits of hell! The thought filled Fernald with horror. He didn't want anyone to suffer that fate!

"All the same," George said, closing the Bible and getting up. "I'd like some time to think it over if that's all right with you. This is, after all, a pretty big thing you're asking of me."

He came over and sat down on the couch next to Fernald. His enormous weight made it bend inwards slightly, and the squirrel very nearly slid over against him. After steadying himself, he nodded. George had a point, he guessed. Regardless of what might happen, this was not a matter to be taken lightly, and only George could decide to accept Jesus into his heart. Fernald couldn't force him to accept it. He nodded.

"Okay," he said, "that seems fair."

As a clock on the fireplace mantle chimed the hour, Fernald felt suddenly tired, and he yawned and stretched. It had been a long day and he had a bit of a drive ahead of him. As much as he might like to stay and continue attempting to persuade George further, Fernald decided it was probably time he got going. Fernald handed George his card and a pamphlet for the church. The card George pocketed. The pamphlet he slid between the pages of the Bible, setting the holy book aside on the arm of the sofa.

"That's just got some information about church, including its phone number," Fernald explained, "and the card has my personal cell phone number on it in case you wanted to call with any questions."

Fernald prided himself in maintaining contact with people he'd saved. And perhaps George would make up his mind after and need to call him at a crucial moment, which he wouldn't be able to do without having the number for Fernald's cell. Modern technology was quite wonderful in helping people connect, Fernald realized.

Then George did something very unexpected. He slipped an arm around Fernald's shoulders and drew the squirrel towards him. Fernald blinked and was so surprised that he didn't resist. He was pulled gently against the alligator's bulky body and sat there, leaning against him, his head lying against the side of George's right pec. He swallowed nervously.

"Uh, M-Mr. Prather... I mean George..." he said.

"Nervous?" George asked. When Fernald nodded. "You shouldn't be. After all, it's just us guys here."

Fernald's heart beat faster. He watched, seemingly frozen, as George reached over and laid his hand on the squirrel's thigh and began stroking it. Now Fernald was feeling even more uncomfortable... and he felt an erection beginning to stir in his pants, bulging the front a bit. George's hand slid up the thigh towards it. Standing abruptly, feeling his face hot with embarrassment, Fernald cleared his throat and began collecting his things.

"Ahem, uh, yes, well, Mr. Prather," he said nervously, reverting to being very formal with the alligator, "I really should be off. Got to get back to church and go over today's route with my pastor."

Hastily, he used his arm to sweep his personal Bible, the pens, papers, tracts and other things messily into his briefcase, snapping the lid shut.

George didn't get up and try to stop him as he hurried for the door. Instead, he simply called after him. "You don't need to be ashamed, you know."

"Ashamed...?" Fernald said, stopping and turning, sweating despite the air conditioning.

"Of being gay," George said, standing up. "I'm gay, too, if you hadn't noticed."

"I'm n-not gay," Fernald stammered. Great. A homosexual. Just what he'd wanted to avoid.

"Or maybe you're bi? Bi-curious?"

The squirrel shook his head. "I have a... sort of, a girlfriend," he said, his mouth feeling dry all of a sudden.

He considered Dalila his girlfriend, but it occurred to him then that they'd never really gone out with other, and also that they attended different churches, and they also hadn't "done it" or even fooled around a bit. It was quite worrisome to him to realize that thus far the closest thing he'd had to a sexual encounter had been with another boy. And now this.

"Bi, then," George said.

"Oh, uh, okay, bye!" Fernald replied, and turned again to leave.

He heard the alligator's deep laugh. "No, no, no!" he said. "Bisexual."

Fernald stopped. Again. "No," he said, turning around, "I'm not that, either!"

"That tent your pitchin' in your trousers there say otherwise," George said, pointing. He chuckled a bit as Fernald shamefully covered his obvious erection with his briefcase.

Fernald's emabarrassment only heightened. What was he to do? Suddenly, however, he got an idea. He had pleaded with God to let him save one person this trip. And George was gay, and had also expressed interest in attending the church. Perhaps God had sent him here to save George?

He had to confess homosexuals made him nervous, George especially considering that grope on the thigh... and the reaction it had gotten out him. One which thankfully was beginning to go down now. However, if he simply left out of fear and unease, abandoning George to his life of sin, what kind of Christian would Fernald be then?

He decided to approach this situation from a different angle now. Opening the briefcase again, he reached inside and dug around before finding one of the God Loves Gays tracts. This he held out to the alligator. He hoped reading it might make George realize he was on a very dangerous path.

"Well, uh, anyway, here, you might find this worth reading."

George the tract and read the title. He chuckled again and crossed his arms. "No thanks," he said, offering it back, but Fernald didn't take it, "I don't go in for that hate literature stuff."

Fernald stood aghast. "H-Hate literature?" he gasped. "What?"

"Yeah, that stuff's nothin' but how everyone who ain't the right type of Christian is goin' to hell," George said. "Kinda hateful talk, don't you think?"

"It is not," Fernald replied bravely.

With the cow lady across the street, he'd been in the wrong, but with this alligator, he felt genuinely insulted. That, and George was being very rude talking to him this way after groping him the way he did. This combined with the heat he had been enduring all day was making his ordinarily even temper start to rise. He clenched his fist at his side, but then thought of what Jesus would do in this situation. Don't let your anger get the better of you, he told himself. Turn the other cheek. Be polite. He unclenched the fist and his wide, cheery smile returned. He still didn't take the tract back, though.

"Sorry if I've offended you, sir," he said.

George seemed a little taken aback. "I, uh, that's fine," he said.

"Good day," Fernald said, and, now that his erection had gone down, he opened the front door and left as quickly as he could and with as much dignity as he could muster.

He was immediately plunged into the balmy heat of the sun. He shielded his eyes, too distracted in his thoughts to bother putting his sunglasses back on as he walked across to where he'd parked. A pickup truck almost hit him, screeching to a halt and honking its horn. Fernald yelped, realizing he'd failed to look both ways, and, offering a pathetic litany of, "Sorry, sorry, sorry!" to the truck's understandably angry driver, he moved on. The truck sped off as soon as he was out of the way.

He made it to his Wagoneer and sighed with relief as he fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door, getting it and plunking the briefcase into the passenger seat. The car interior was broiling and Fernald was immediately soaked in sweat. Inserting the key into the ignition, he turned it, eager for some air conditioning. He couldn't think straight in this heat. However, the engine sputtered and wouldn't turn over.

"Oh, please, no," he whimpered. He turned the key again. The engine whined and sputtered but still wouldn't turn on.

He wasn't entirely surprised. The ordinarily well-behaved car had been giving him some difficulties lately, the engine emitting grinding noises and having trouble starting up. He had been meaning to take it to a mechanic but it had constantly slipped his mind. His uncle had given him the car, and it was old, but Jeeps were supposed to be quite reliable. Just one more piece of rotten luck for him today.

"Oh, don't do this to me, you piece of junk!" he growled, getting angry.

A third try yielded the same results. The Wagoneer sat silent and unmoving. Fernald thumped the steering wheel with his hands and entertained the idea of getting out to pop the hood before realizing he didn't know anything about cars. He'd need to call a towing service. Trying to calm himself, he closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat.

"Lord, you do test me," he murmured softly.

Opening his eyes, he began to unclip his cell phone from his belt when suddenly George appeared at the window beside him. He gasped in surprise and jerked back.

"Agh!"

"Oh," said George apologetically, "sorry if I startled you."

"What do you want?" Fernald asked, feeling his dull anger returning, but trying to keep himself in check. He'd feel bad later if he got angry at the gator, homosexual or not. Fernald wasn't a grudge-holding type and always disliked being mean to people.

"Well, a number of things," replied George. "Firstly, I wanted to return this to you." He held out the tract. "I won't be needing it."

Numbly, Fernald took it, and tossed it into the backseat. "Is that all?" he asked sourly, then immediately wished he hadn't said it that way.

"Well, you said you were sorry you had offended me back there. But really, I think it's me who should be apologizing to you, Fernald," came the soft reply.

This surprised Fernald and changed his mood a little for the better. "R-Really...?" he asked.

"Yeah. I shouldn't have grabbed your leg like that. I just sort of wanted to see what your reaction would be. I have this knack for telling if someone's gay." He smiled a little. "Or bi," he added hastily. "But it was wrong of me and I apologize."

Fernald nodded. He was about to again insist he wasn't gay or bi, but instead simply smiled a bit and said, "Uh, thank you. Apology accepted." Suddenly hopeful again, he added, "Listen, you don't need to read the tract. Just read the Bible I gave you. And maybe you could still come by the church sometime as well? You seemed interested."

Sorry if I got up in your face there, but I've been to this 'Light and Reverence' church and let's just say that pastor there rubs me the wrong way."

"You-You've been to the church?" Fernald blinked in amazement.

"Yeah," the alligator replied. "And, I might add, I'm already a Christian. Accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior a while ago. I just don't hold with the kinda 'everyone is doomed to hell unless they do such-and-such' sort of crap some pastors and preachers have got their church members handing out."

"But," Fernald said, licking his lips, stupefied, "you're gay!"

George nodded. "Can't deny it. But, Fernald, take it from me. You can be gay and be a Christian. No matter what your pastor or your parents tell you."

Fernald swallowed. He nodded dumbly along with what George was saying, taking it all in. He was listening but not quite paying attention. Pastor Dick had told him to tune such things out. He usually could, however, something about the way George said it made the squirrel think he meant it, and so he caught the basic gist of it despite trying to follow Pastor Dick's instructions and ignore any attempts to turn him from the true path. Gay and a Christian? he thought. Surely such a thing wasn't possible.

"And finally," George said with a heavy sigh, interrupting Fernald's train of thought, "I noticed you were havin' some car trouble. Can't get it to start up, huh? Know what the problem is?"

Fernald shook his head. "I... I don't know anything about cars."

"Well, I know a thing or two," replied the alligator, walking around to the front. "'84 Wagoneer. Good car. Must be somethin' faulty if it isn't behavin'. Why don't you open up the hood and I can have a look at the engine for you?"

After hesitating a moment, Fernald pulled the lever to pop open the hood, and the alligator, with ease, his muscular arms bulging a bit, flung it up and open. Getting out, Fernald walked over and stood by him as George leaned over and rummaged around, inspecting the engine. It all looked quite complicated to Fernald, whose experience with how cars worked was limited to starting them up and shutting them off. For a bit, George tinkered around in there, muttering to himself.

Fernald's opinion of George changed as he watched him work. Yes, the alligator had made an uncalled for homosexual pass at him, but he'd not only apologized, but, it turned out he was also a Christian somehow, and was going out of his way to help the young squirrel who had tried to evangelize to him. Fernald felt slightly tricked because George hadn't immediately revealed he was a Christian before, making him feel as though he'd rambled on for no good reason to someone who was already mostly headed on the right path, but the alligator's willingness to help him in his time of need warmed the squirrel to him. Gay or not, here was a good person.

"All righty," George said, pulling out. "I think that's got it. Go try and start it up now."

Getting back inside, leaving the door open, Fernald turned the key again, and the engine still sputtered a bit but eventually thundered to life, and merciful cool air began blowing from the air conditioning vents. Fernald grinned and George slammed the hood, then came back 'round to the driver's side as Fernald shut the door and buckled his seatbelt.

"Thank you," Fernald said. "I mean, really, thank you. You saved me having to pay to get this thing towed."

"I didn't fix it completely. I would still suggest getting it to a proper mechanic to get some of the parts replaced. It's a good truck but an old one and needs a tuneup in a bad way."

Fernald nodded. "I'll do that."

"And listen, kid," George said softly, laying his hand on Fernald's arm. "Think about what I said. About how you can be gay or bi... and still a Christian."

Fernald squirmed in his seat a little and rolled his eyes, sighing.

"You seem really nice. And even if I'm wrong and you're not bi, or gay, or whatever, you should rethink goin' around handin' those hateful little comic things out to people. It isn't nice." He patted Fernald's arm.

Remembering his own dire opinion of some of the tracts, Fernald found he couldn't exactly argue. He swallowed a bit and nodded. "I'll think about it," he said. "I, uh, I have sometimes thought some of them could be a bit on the bleak side."

George smiled. He took his hand off of Fernald's arm. "Well, that's as good a place as any to start. I hope to see you again, soon. Drive safe and God bless."

Fernald smiled. "God bless," he said, a little hesitantly.

He then watched as George turned and headed back across the street, pausing to look both ways before he did. Now there was a man with a clear conscience and an unclouded mind, Fernald realized as he remembered how he'd been too conflicted to look both ways and almost been hit by that truck. As he pulled out and did a U-turn to head back to the main road, it occurred to him furthermore how serene George had seemed. Even when rebuffing the tract as hate literature, he had been calm and pleasant about it. Never once did the alligator seem to get mad.

He, meanwhile, had gotten quite flustered and upset the entire time. He also thought of Pastor Dick and his own angry outbursts during his sermons. For the first time he started realizing how perpetually angry everyone was at his church. Such good Christians comparing unfavorably to a gay one was a most upsetting thought indeed.

He stopped at the intersection, putting his blinker on to turn right and go back to his church. The sun was behind him and so he didn't need to put his sunglasses back on, which he suddenly remembered were in his pocket. As he waited for a semi to go past, Fernald thought about what George had told him. He was still thinking about it when the truck finished going by and he swung onto the road and headed down it.

Gay and still Christian. He had heard some people claim this before, but not only was he not certain it was true, as he liked to er on the side of caution, he was also still quite insistent that he was not gay. Or bi. And yet... these thoughts didn't leave his mind, troubling though they were. Fernald would have a lot of questions for Pastor Dick when he got to the church. And a lot of questions to ask himself when he returned home.

The End