New sole, new soul

plot: Rags to Riches

Len tutted as the water squirted from the puddle, through the hole in his shoe and soaked his foot.

‘I wish I could afford some new shoes,’ he mumured. ‘In fact, I am fed up with being on the poverty line. I am going to ask my Dad to give me my share of his inheritance, and then I can go to the big city, have some fun and see if there are any worthwhile businesses to invest in, and try to make some serious money.’

His father knew Len lacked any business skills, but he couldn’t talk him out of the idea. So he gave him the money and let him go.

Len put on his worn, old coat with the frayed cuffs and left the farm, heading towards Dissipation City.

Once he as there, he went directly to a tailors’ shop and ordered a fancy made-to-measure suit, and bought gloves, several shirts, three silk handkerchieves and two pairs of the finest hand-crafted quality footwear.

His next port of call was a rather select restaurant, where he was able to make friends with some pretty girls and eager young men, buy them all a slap-up feed and then suggest a trip to the casino for some more drinks and a little wagering.

He loved the high-life and was very popular with his beneficiaries, as you can imagine. ‘I have known the poverty of scratching out a living on a farm. I was very poor indeed. But now I am counted among the wealthy. Brilliant!’

Sadly, the day came when the cash ran out. It happened to be on the same day that the famine struck the land, and everyone was hungry and had to seek employment. He walked for miles and miles, accidentally tearing a hole in his coat, soaking his leather shoes and losing his hat while running across a field in order to escape the attention of a hungry goat, which settled for the headgear.

Eventually, he found a job in a piggery, and was so hungry he seriously considered eating some of the pods the pigs were given. ‘This is no good,’ he thought. ‘I was poor, then I was very wealthy indeed, and now I am poor again. Even poorer than I was before…’

Then he had a revelation, and came to his senses. ‘My father’s men want for nothing, and they are merely hirelings. I shall go home and ask to be one of his hired hands, as I am no longer worthy to be called his son.’

He made his way, walking on shoes with split soles, wearing torn trousers and a ragged coat, with no hat to protect him from the sun.

While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and ran to greet him.

‘My son! My son!’

‘Please make me one of your…’

‘Bring shoes for his poor feet! Look at the state of this jacket… bring a coat for him, too. Here, son, have my ring and put it on. We shall kill the fatted calf and have a party!’
    

All the villagers came, and the son was astonished. ‘I’m no longer worthy to be called your son, but your grace and love are so great that you still welcome me as a son, treat me as a son, think of me as a son – and my unworthiness seems to be unimportant in comparison to your declaration of my sonship.’

‘Rejoice! For this my son was lost, and is found; he was dead, but is alive again! Have another slice of beef, do.’