"Josh and Luke"
by
Wendall Paul Sexton

Darkness. Solitude. Silence. A young man of 30 years, JOSH is his name, stands alone. He stands mired in the depths of poverty: a plain white t-shirt -- of quality, at one time, now torn and coated in the filth of time -- and faded jeans, ripped and frayed. They covered his body in an appearance of one overtly gaunt, exasperated with thirst for the commonplace needs of man: his hair disheveled by the dusty wind; his face and hands scorched by the blistering sun. Little strength remained in the once virile and athletic form.

Footsteps. The clicking sound of footsteps. Like the heels from shoes or boots exquisite in their make. Steadily they creep into the built quiet of the dark night. LUKE, equal to JOSH in height and build, appears onto the barren scene.

He is a clear contrast to JOSH. One-hundred-eighty degrees opposite, LUKE knew no hunger. He suffered no thirst. His appearance exuded the epitome of masculine power with his ruddy complexion and hair coifed to an impeccable rebuke against disorder. He was the CEO residing in the aloof castle atop the mountain. None could touch him. He was king over all.

LUKE: Are you ready? It's time. (JOSH turns his beleaguered countenance his way.) Come.

Slowly JOSH followed as LUKE led him further into the darkness, the light above JOSH illuminating their path. He remained quiet walking behind LUKE, staring only at the ground ahead of him as one foot was thrown in front of the next.
A second moment passes to open the destination of the two: a simple table with two chairs and a deck of cards. JOSH assumes the chair nearest, leaving the chair on the table's other side to LUKE.

LUKE: I'm glad to see you made it. (consuming the other chair with his presence) I had heard you lost control of your senses. You know -- crazy?
(taking the cards, he begins shuffling) Fortunately.. (studying him) those reports seem untrue . I've been waiting for an opportunity to play you for quite some time.

JOSH: Why? What is it you presume to know about me?

LUKE: I know you're a carpenter. You are, as you father was, a trade you picked up from him.

JOSH: You know very little.

LUKE: (brazen) I know that burg of your home is a nothing. Travelers sneer at it as a bump in the road. Nothing ever good comes out of it. No one of any consequence ever emerges from it. It is a vulgar orgy of fools content in their simpleton lifestyles; ready to infect all who pass too close with their rotting disease of complacency. Aspiration. Prosperity. Success and Power! Gone. (blowing into his hand) Poof! Into the dust of the wind.

JOSH: (studying LUKE with amusement) And yet, you desire for me to play you -- a "fool" who has nothing on earth you could possibly want.

LUKE: Who sought whom? (defensive) I wasn't the one who came wandering into the desert. Abandoning family and friends, home, life. You gave up everything. You have nothing. What are you trying to prove? That fool-headed cousin John of yours blundered his way in here eating bugs and
wearing camel's fur. Is that what's next for you? To give up this “fine, fashionable attire”…(alluding directly to JOSH's t-shirt and jeans)…for the
wild man's dress?

JOSH: Are you saying that clothes endow a man with purpose?

LUKE: They certainly reveal the insights of his character and mind. John retreats from civilization, embraces the parched emptiness of the uncivilized, and returns from it to begin dunking people in the river. (ceasing his incessant shuffling of the cards, LUKE leans forward in his chair, into the table) Explain something to me. This dunking in the river. What is that? To wash people
clean? River water doesn't wash the ilk of a person's life away. The flaws of mankind cannot be corrected with some childish practice of bathing a
person's body, in a stagnant flow of water, by a wildman detached from reality.

JOSH: River water merely cleanses the body. The true …

LUKE: (cutting him off) You went through it! That fool crazy-man dunked you no different than anyone else! And look what happened to you. A
meandering off into this wasteland. You don’t eat. You don’t drink. And now…(leaning back into his chair, directing the focus back onto himself)…you
see visions – hallucinations.

JOSH: A hallucination? That is what you call yourself?

LUKE: (a chuckle accompanies his sudden grin) I am known by many names. (shuffling the cards) Hallucination being among the most popular.

JOSH: You are no hallucination. You occupy that seat with as much reality as I take this seat here. I know all this is about you. I know who you are.

LUKE: Oh? (with pious incredulity as he deals the cards) Really?

JOSH: You were once great.

LUKE: I am great.

JOSH: A prince among princes.

LUKE: I am lord over all.

JOSH: The grandest of all God’s creation. Perfect in all your ways. None knew more talent. None carried more promise.

LUKE: (scoffing) Promise short-lived. Promise unfulfilled. Promise should lead forward to magnificence. No other direction exists for those destined towards greatness.

JOSH: At one time, you were great.

LUKE: At one time?

JOSH: True greatness comes only through service. To be the master, you must first know the value of the servant. To lead, you must first know how to follow. There is honor is such trust.

LUKE: (scoffing) The value of the servant is to follow his master. (garners no response from JOSH) Look, if you must know! See, the many servants my kingdom has! You want to know about servants? I can tell you all you seek and ask. Who are you to utter a word to me? (with disgust) A mere carpenter. You are the one who is nothing! Who do you think you are to speak to me with such words?

JOSH: I know who you are. I know from where you have come.

JOSH picks up the cards dealt him and begin to arrange them in his hand. LUKE does the same.

JOSH: The great beauty of your perfection -- vanity now resonates in its stead.

LUKE: You may call it vanity; I call it the truth. If I deny what I am, that makes me a liar and a fool. A fool cannot be lord over all that you see, and all that you ever will see. (JOSH tosses out three cards from his hand)

JOSH: You cheat and deceive your way into this kingdom…(gazing his eyes about at their surroundings)…you claim as your own. (LUKE tosses him three new cards) The "servants" you boast -- they are slaves, slaves in bondage to the
lies you spread. You are a liar, and the father of all liars. It has been that way since the days of the beginning, you snake! (LUKE discards two of his
own cards)

LUKE: (cutting him off) And it will be that way for now and ever more. What do you expect to do about it?

LUKE draws two new cards from the deck. He leans back in his chair, still confident and assured.

JOSH: (with a confidence of his own) I am the truth you steal from their hearts and hide from their eyes. They shall be free. And you shall be done.

JOSH is the one to now sit back into his chair, at ease and with confidence.

LUKE: You look upon yourself as something pretty special, I see. A true “son of God”, standing tall above all the petty needs of man. Companionship? (shaking his head) Don’t need it. You’ve abandoned your family, your
friends, and all those sexy ladies to shake your way. Purpose? (shaking his head again) Of what use is it? You threw away a promising career in
woodworking. You and your father…what structures you built.

LUKE leans across the table towards JOSH. His voice becomes almost soft, as if in mock sentiment, while chastising him for being a fool.

LUKE: And what of the simple needs? Shelter to cover your head? And food tofill your belly? (staring at him wide-eyed, as if JOSH were a child) You’ve thrown it back into the desert wind.

He reaches his hand down to the ground beneath them. There he picks up a pair of stones the size of softballs and lays them on the table.

LUKE: If you are a “son of God”…(sardonic mocking in his tone)…turn these stones into bread. (he lays his cards down with the stones) Surely you know how. (leaning back confident into his chair again) No need for anything but the sun to beat on your brow. Go ahead! Show me your superior stead!

JOSH eyes the two stones placed before him in view. His breathing fell heavy at their docile sight: heaves of suspended gasps dominated the still quietness of the air. Reaching his hand towards the center of the table, he grasped one of the two objects and held it for study before his eyes.

JOSH: The sensuous appeal of bread. (gazing intently upon it) Hot from the oven. Steam rising in a thin wisp of air. An aroma…(breathing
deeply with a sigh)…to savor. It excites the senses. Indulge and be happy! Feast and be filled! What a joy, the pleasure of life is – to
partake of it to the full!

LUKE, comfortable in his chair, grins with delight as he observes the salivating JOSH lays over the piece of rock within his hand.

JOSH: And yet…(his gaze flips back to LUKE) Life is more than food, just as the body is more than clothing. (turning his eyes back to the stone) I have food you know nothing about. Eat and drink is a pleasure, a taste to bless man’s stomach in times of need…”

LUKE: (quickly interjecting) You are in need.

JOSH: (returning his eyes to LUKE) My need is to do the will of the One who sent me. (he tosses the stone to the side) Not to indulge myself upon
the lifeless form of stones. (laying his hand of cards to the table) Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word to proceed from the
mouth of God.

In disbelief, LUKE stares at the five cards set to the center of the table. Physically, there is no reaction from him.

LUKE: A full house. (with a intense rigidity to his voice) Over my three Jacks.

JOSH sits relaxed, yet alert.

LUKE: (with a stolid vengeance) Round One for you.

LUKE takes the back of his hand, his eyes never abandoning their fixed stare on his foe, and sweeps the other stone off the table. He draws all the cards into his hands.

LUKE: (sardonically referring to the cards) Would you care to do the honors?

JOSH: They are your cards; this is your game.

As he maintains his fixed gaze upon his opponent, LUKE shuffles the cards for the next hand they were to play

LUKE: Poker must not be a game to your liking, I take it.

JOSH: A game is meant to be played. Play is meant to be enjoyed.

LUKE: Like Poker? Your own words referred to it as a game.

JOSH: My own words referred to it as “your game”.

LUKE: Like life? Life is referred to as a game.

JOSH: Life is your game. You delude people into a play they never escape.

LUKE, grinning with confirming delight, begins to deal the cards. The deck he sets to the side.

LUKE: People wonder why Poker is the game. Why not something else? Something more "virtuous". More "noble". A "gentleman's" game. Poker is the game of scoundrels.

JOSH: (breathing heavy) It is a game, as all other games in life. They are to be won; and they are to be lost.

LUKE: Ahhh…(shaking his head)…not so with Poker. Here within our hands lies the game of the poor man. It stirs the dormant fire of his ignorant soul into believing, if just for a moment, that within the fall of these five cards is escape from the wretched labor of this life. Turn to his right, he finds sickness. Turn to his left, violence strikes. Poverty surrounds him, assailing his efforts no matter the turn. (holding forth his five cards into JOSH's sight) He can gain the whole world! (lowering the cards to the table) In the power
of his hand.

JOSH: Deception and lies -- such is your game, not mine.

JOSH discards two cards from his hand. LUKE deals two new cards from the deck.

LUKE: What is your game?

LUKE discards two cards of his own, replacing them from the deck.

JOSH: A game is meant for enjoyment.

LUKE: I think we've established as much.

JOSH: It is meant to provide a moment of relief. To laugh. To smile. To remember the fleeting moments of joy. (a direct stare, he throws at LUKE) You know of what I speak. You lord a world of oppression over them.

LUKE: Frivolity is your game then, I take it. You believe the only way to deal with life's cruelty is to ignore it in bliss.

JOSH: The only way to deal with the cruelty of life is by the truth of something better.

LUKE: So you see yourself as a possessor of such truth.

JOSH: Only by the truth can a soul be set free.

LUKE: Very well…(reaching his free hand beneath the table)…if that's the case. Truth…(tossing a black book onto the table's center)…to release your downtrodden souls from their inescapable bondage.

JOSH stares at the book set forth for him to consider.

LUKE: My personal black book. (in proud declaration) Within those pages you will find the personal numbers to every head of state, every CEO, every religious icon, every pretentious political bigwig the world at large knows. (pointing his finger directly at it) Immediate access, that is what I offer you. At your fingertips, there lies the ability to command the attention of whomever you want.

JOSH looks up towards his opponent leaning in a fiery earnestness across the table at him. His own eyes were starting to wince. The clarity of what his vision detailed was beginning to blur slightly.

LUKE: All the good you can do. Think about it! All within the outstretched reach of your hand. A lifetime of effort could never attain a tenth of so much power!

JOSH drops his sight back down to the black book.

JOSH: The soul is the stake placed on the table now.

LUKE: (grinning) The world, if you win, is your prize.

There is trepidation. There is pause. There is silence in the ambiance of the air. Emblazoned with zeal like a preacher saving souls, LUKE opens the black book, reading from its pages, though his gaze remains affixed at JOSH.

LUKE: Robert G. Edwards, CEO of the Trilateral Council. At his word, financial markets soar. (he turns a page) Mohammed Yitzak, prime minister of Israel, delivered peace to a region torn by decades of war. (he turns another page) Thomas Webster, poet laureate from England, transformed
the thought processes of not just his native land, but all of Europe through his writings of life in the English poorhouses. He is venerated today for extricating European thought away entirely from its aristocratic past of oppression and false god worship. (he turns another page) Charles Horton, American actor since the dawn of the age – no one soul has portrayed more heroic, historical figures. No one person is more respected and heard. (one more page is turned) Chang Xi Pu, mayor of Hong Kong with innumerable vested interests throughout China and the entire oriental world abroad. He stands as the true head of the Chinese people. Do Jou Ping is just the titular front. He holds a billion Chinese people in his pocket. Whatever he wants them to hear, they hear.

JOSH suddenly sweeps his hand up from his side and closes LUKE’s book in a swift and instantaneous motion. His eyes, regaining a sense of their original virility, stare back undaunted.

JOSH: No man will be forced into hearing any words of mine. All will come on their own. Only the fool tempts God by doing things his own way.
.
With those words, JOSH laid forth his cards, trumping what LUKE held in his yet-to-be-seen displayed fingers. Luke responds with furtive disgust, taking hold of the black book and tossing it backward over his shoulder and out of their sight.
JOSH reaches over the table and, with tacit acceptance by LUKE, takes the cards into his hands. LUKE watches with assiduous intent as his opponent shuffles for the first time.

LUKE: I must admit. You prove more of the challenge than I initially gave you credit for. No one has ever taken me for a ride twice.

JOSH: Truth always wins out over falsehood. It is impossible here for you to win.

LUKE: Oh, I agree. (placating) I am with you one-hundred-and-ten percent. Success is ultimately dependent upon truth. On that point, I think we do
agree. But to exert forth this preposterous claim I cannot win…(throwing JOSH a quizzical stare) I always win. I never lose.

JOSH: You always win because of the nature in man to believe your lies. You never lose because of your skill in masking the deception with a small
grain of truth. People accept what you say and do as truth. (dealing the cards) Truth never comes in second place.

LUKE: And yet, this time you claim I will lose. Has truth suddenly leapt from my corner in this fight to embrace yours?

Ten cards dealt, five lying face down before the combatants, LUKE awaits picking his up for a response to this latest challenge.

JOSH: (straightforward) This is the third and final hand. You have tempted me with physical pleasure. You have allured my purpose with soulish power. When I defeat you here, you will see that I am the open doorway for those so shamelessly trapped in the deceptiveness of your lies. I am the life for those who despair of breath. I am the truth you have perverted like the rotted flesh of an animal the fool breathes in as the tender aroma of a succulent feast. I am the end of your absolute dominion on earth.

JOSH drops his eyes to his cards, picks them up one by one, and begins arranging them within his five fingers.

LUKE: I have indeed underestimated you. (beginning to pick up his own cards one by one) You speak not with the fool tongue of the commoner I anticipated. Your words are those of royalty – perhaps, the king himself!

JOSH: A king requires a court. Where do you see any followers by my side?

Casting his eyes about at their empty surroundings.

LUKE: The manner with which you shuffled the cards. The way you dealt them. You are beyond any blasé novice at this challenge of the spirit. You have skill. Talent. Why I was so blinded by this guise of the working-class idiot…(raising his hand in deference)…one additional merit to your favor.

JOSH: There stands nothing more you can lay on the table, but the empty words of a fool.

LUKE: “Empty words of a fool”? I take offense at such a statement, Sir. I am merely conceding your point. You have bested me these last two times.

JOSH shifted his eyes from studying his cards to studying his opponent. LUKE was studying his own cards.

LUKE: Don’t misunderstand me here. I am not conceding the game. I would hope my previously-acquired talent and skill would trump yours in this
hand, pushing us to a fourth hand. I am merely acknowledging my own shortsightedness in failing to recognize you for what you are.

JOSH: And just what would you claim that to be?

LUKE: (eyeing him) A champion. A winner. The victor over any threat to challenge you with its power. I envision someone who is unbeatable.
Whatever you set your mind out to do – it’s yours already. (drifting his eyes back down to his cars) If you were only able to cover up that one glaring weak spot in your armor.

JOSH: Okay. Since the table is mine, the stakes are going higher.

LUKE: You have my full attention.

JOSH: Let it ride on this hand. You have accurately identified my worth. You know I am more than another simple combatants from whom you feed upon like a vampire lusting for blood.

LUKE: Quite true .

JOSH: I am certain you would like your bread and book returned. To do so, would erase the embarrassment of defeat.

LUKE: This has been the most unpleasant of experiences.

JOSH: Very well then, everything is on the table. The bread. The book. The unbeatable spirit you so highly prize, the same, which has beaten you, these last two hands (eyeing him squarely) Can you meet these stakes?

LUKE: (confidently staring back) Not only can I meet them. (reaching beneath the table) I can raise them.

Tossed onto the table, in much of the same manner as he had thrown the black book, LUKE casts into the pot a set of keys. Golden in color, the three skeleton keys were set on a large gold ring. As they struck the table, a loud jangling sound cut into the still air.

LUKE: What else do you have to meet my raise? All you possess…(passing hishand over the center of the table)…it lies before me to take. (with a sardonic laugh)

"It lies before me to take." JOSH heard none of it. His ears listened to nothing with which his foul opponent taunted him. His focus lay upon those keys.

LUKE: (profusely happy with himself) Well, what have you got, boy? Anything left within that bag of goodies to surprise me with? What am I saying?
Of course not! (leaning over the table towards him) You're out! You're tapped! Nada! No more! That's it! (erupting into a belly laugh) Stick a
fork in you, son -- you are done!

Standing from his chair, LUKE continues mocking JOSH -- all to no avail, as JOSH is still deeply engrossed in focus upon those keys.

LUKE: I suckered you in Boy, and you fell for it. You fell for it, big time! Just give him a little line, and he'll grab deeper for that worm. Just give him a
little line -- let him think he's on top, he's winning this battle -- and you've got that hook in him as sure as the dirt of the earth I master is brown… (he symbolic reaches to the ground underneath him for a handful of dirt)…and the sky covering my kingdom with its fathomless, heavenly depth is blue. (his arms stretch out in passionate embrace to the sky overhead) What a triumph! What a game! (leaning over the table, staring intensely into JOSH's face) What a hustle. (with breathless laughter, thoroughly enjoying himself) You've been hustled, Boy. What do you think of that?

Finally, JOSH turns his eyes up to meet his foe, to sight this opponent of his breathing a foul, sweaty breath into his personal space.

LUKE: Well? What's it gonna be, Boy? Are you gonna see my raise? (his voice turns gruff) Or are you gonna fold? Make your move.

JOSH moves his hand beneath the table and tosses forth a set of papers onto the table.

JOSH: I call.

LUKE: (incredulous) What the hell is that? I offer you gold. You throw at me paper? I ain't no fool lawyer. (grabbing the papers) What is this?

JOSH: It's a contract. I'm calling your raise with the one thing you want, but never will have. Something you never can attain. Something you never can win back.

LUKE begins thumbing through the pages thrown out before him. At first, he scoffs with the incessant gruffness of his voice and presence; then, when realization of what JOSH's contract entailed struck -- his face dropped in further disbelief.

JOSH: You offer me all I come for; I offer you more than you ever expected. Restoration into a right relationship with that heavenly paradise beyond the
outstretched height of the sky. (his eyes drop from LUKE's countenance to the contract within the hands) Such is what I offer you now. On this hand, a return to the Kingdom from which you were exiled -- it shall be yours.

LUKE, his propensity for words stifled, stands at the table's side -- muted. Dumbfounded, he utters not a syllable in response. Only his eyes are capable of movement, darting back and forth between the papers in his hands and the unknown man, JOSHUA, the carpenter's son, his opponent in the rivaled game, sitting taciturn and composed before him.

JOSH: How you have fallen, o morning star, son of the dawn. You were themodel of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty. Every precious
stone adorned you, anointing you as guardian; for you were blameless in all your ways.

Then you voiced in your heart, I will ascend above the tops of the clouds. I will make myself like the Most High. Your heart became proud on account of your beauty, and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor. The vanity formed within your bosom…

LUKE: (cutting him off) Enough!! (exasperated) Enough! No more of these lies!

JOSH: (calmly) Lies? What I speak is your story. You know it is the truth.

LUKE: No! (strongly objecting) I know my own history. The story you spit on me is a lie. He is the one who screwed up! (stabbing his finger at the sky) Not me. (screaming) That old man up there is the one to blame. I did nothing -- nothing wrong.

JOSH: You rebelled against his rule.

LUKE: (jumping on the words) My rules were better! My ways were more complete; my thoughts were higher than his thoughts. He was the deafened wall of stone, banishing me…(gazing about at their immediate surroundings)…to this heaping mess of cow dung – the brand new field of
battle between us. He may have booted me from his kingdom; but here, in this place, I will throw him down! (mimicking the act) The throne should be mine! My ways are the perfect ways. My thoughts are the perfect thoughts. I am the ideal of what a god is meant to be. (patting his chest with his open palm) All his claims…they are the unjust clichés of a fool.

JOSH: The one who established justice is unjust? Do you realize what it is your are saying?

LUKE listens to nothing his foe speaks. As his thoughts return to the contract, his fury disorients him in a unsteady stumble like a lawyer knowing his case is lost

LUKE: Tell me…(pointing an accusatory finger at JOSH)…tell me. How did you find it out. (meandering from the table) Some pisant poor punk…ain't got a dime to his worthless name -- stumbles in here from 40 days in the desert. Thinks he needs some revelation from on high as to “why we’re allhere”. Yet, instead of some mystical, spiritual experience, some unexplainable encounter with an immortal being from the sky – instead of any of that pap, he meets me. (patting his chest again) Ain't nuthin' unusual 'bout that. Plenty of others have come before. Put them all down. Every one of these "holy" men. See 'visions' of something beyond this mundane
existence. Proof of something more than this worthless waste of breath. (pacing around the table) Ha. Double ha. The only visions they see is visions of me. (pointing directly to himself) I am their god.

Stumbling from one side of the table to the next, LUKE half-expects a response out of JOSH at this time. JOSH sits quiet and unchanged: stolid in his appearance, doughty in his resolve. LUKE's strength, meanwhile, appeared to be giving out. On the opposite side of the table, he dropped his hands, in grief, onto the table's surface and hung his head.

LUKE: (virulent) You offer me something I want. But how? How? How can you, a mere carpenter's boy, grant me access back into His Kingdom?

LUKE: (breaking into a boisterous laughter) What am I beating myself over the head for? I can't lose. (he stares back at JOSH) You can't. It's a bluff. It's one friggin’ huge bluff. There is no way you can have that sort of access. There’s no way! (breaking into further mocking laughter) You have everything to lose. You can't fold. (a spring bounces into his step as he bounds to life) Which means your contract’s a phony. It’s a last gasp. A dying cry for help. It’s a bluff. It’s no good. (holding the contract up, ready to tear) It’s nothing but a crock load of…

JOSH: (cutting him off) Can you afford to take that chance? I am calling your raise.

LUKE: You’re nuthin’ but a carpenter’s son. (nearly in a sweat) You ain’t got the means to get me back in. You ain’t got it. (shaking his head nervously) No.

JOSH: Tell me, then. (leaning forward in his chair) How could it be in your hands? (a beat) I have called your hand. Are you ready to turn over your cards?

LUKE turns his countenance back to his foe. His laughter from before, it bubbles up again. Gradually. Subtly. Raucous and eruptive, he explodes into another boisterous round of pompous frivolity.

LUKE: What does it matter? (snubbing JOSH) What does it matter if this is a big load of crock? (laughing uproariously, tossing the contract into the
air) The game’s still afoot. You…(thrusting forth a sharp finger)…have lost either way.

His opposite hand firmly entrenched around his five cards, LUKE audaciously flips all five over with a sonorous thud, to accompany his laughter, on the table's surface. A five-card hand as weighty as any professional gambler's lay open before JOSH's sight.

It was a triumphant sight of victorious conquest JOSH never viewed. His eyes were centered upon LUKE and the drunken stupor of hilarity dancing him about like a movie Indian who forgot how to call down rain.

When LUKE's eyes fall over his way, JOSH turns over one card. It garnered further attention. He turns over a second. LUKE's laughter becomes more restrained. He turns over the third. There is no more laughter. The air quiets and stills. JOSH turns over the fourth. The pinprick of a needle could resound crashes and peals of heavenly damnation upon the setting. He turns over the fifth; and the game is done. Shock and exhaustion blanket LUKE's countenance and entire frame. All is lost. He is lost. He collapses into the chair with no more fight to give.

JOSH, rising as a king from his throne, stands tall over his fallen foe. The golden keys, he picks up from the table's center, knowing the battle is won.