OLIVEOIL 6'2m1f Elisha's miracle gives a widow rent money

(melodrama overacting)

WIDOW --- (southern belle) Oh, dear, oh, dear, whatever shall I 
do? My husband has died and my rent payment is due. If I don't 
pay the rent, my two children and I shall be thrown out into the 
street by that dastardly villain, Horace J. Snidley.

(knock, knock, knock)

I fear that may be Mr Snidely at my the door now. Whatever shall 
I do?

(door open)

Mr Snidely, whatever could you be doing at my door?

SNIDELY - (greasy) Hello, my lovely. I was shocked and saddened 
by the death of your husband. But, business is business, and 
your rent is due. Do you have the money?

WIDOW --- Why, no, Mr Snidely, I do not have the money. Please 
give me more time. I shall try to get you the money.

SNIDELY - Sorry, sweet cheeks, business is business. Don't you 
have anything to sell to raise the money?

WIDOW --- Why, no. All we have left is a little olive oil. But 
there isn't enough to make the rent payment.

SNIDELY - Then, you're out on the street, sweet.

WIDOW --- Oh, please, Mr Snidely, have mercy. Just give me a 
little more time.

SNIDELY - Sorry, dimple chin, business is business. No money, no 
house. You're out of here.

WIDOW --- Oh, please, Mr Snidely, if not for me, do it for my 
two children. Look at their innocent little faces, Mr Snidely. 
You wouldn't make such innocent little creatures homeless, would 

SNIDELY - Without batting an eye, honey lips. Pay up or get out.

WIDOW --- Oh, please, Mr Snidely, give me just until tomorrow to 
come up with the money. If I don't have the money for you by 
tomorrow, my children and I will move out without any more fuss.

SNIDELY - I tell you what, sweet thing. I'll give you until 
tomorrow to come up with the money, if....

WIDOW --- If what, Mr Snidely? I'll do anything.

SNIDELY - If you fail to come up with the money, I'll take your 
children and sell them as slaves.

WIDOW --- Never! I shall never give up my children!

SNIDELY - Very well, then, out you go, children and all. Did I 
tell you how cold it is outside?

WIDOW --- Very well. My children would be better off as slaves 
of rich folks than to be homeless, without a roof over their 
heads. Yes, I shall spend the next day saying goodbye to my 
lovely children and then I shall see them no more... Unless the 
Lord my God rescues me.

SNIDELY - Bah, humbug, not even God can help you now. Good 
night, sugar lips. Until tomorrow, then. (laughs, fading) Yuh uh 

(door close)

WIDOW --- Whether it is better for my children to be slaves or 
not, I dread the thought of losing them. Boo hoo!

(knock, knock, knock)

Whoever could that be? Could it be that dastardly Horace J 
Snidely again, coming to renege on his promise?

(door open)

Who are you?

ELISHA -- (Dudley Doright, too confident and too enthusiastic) 
Good evening, Madame, my name is Elisha and I am here to save the 
day for you.

WIDOW --- I don't need another vacuum cleaner.

ELISHA -- You don't understand, Madame, the Lord sent me.

WIDOW --- You're not one of those Jehovah's witnesses, are you?

ELISHA -- No, Madame, I'm a prophet.

WIDOW --- A profit. So, this is about multilevel 

ELISHA -- Not that kind of profit, Madame. I am a prophet of god.

WIDOW --- Oh, so you're the answer to my prayers. Do you have my 
rent money?

ELISHA -- No, Madame. I'm a prophet. I don't have any money.

WIDOW --- So, what are you selling? Encyclopedias?

ELISHA -- No, Madame, the Lord wants me to do a miracle.

WIDOW --- I can't afford to have my carpets cleaned. Not even at 
$9.95 per room.

ELISHA -- Madame, I'm afraid you've misconstrued my intensions. 
I'm here to save you and your two adorable children from 
eviction or slavery.

WIDOW --- Oh.

ELISHA -- Here is what the Lord wants you to do. Go to your 
neighbors and borrow all the jars you can. Then pour what little 
olive oil you have into the jars.

WIDOW --- But my jar is only half full of oil.

ELISHA -- Go with me on this, Madame. Do you want your kids to be 

WIDOW --- Very well, I shall humbly do as you say. Thank you, 
kind sir. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name.

ELISHA -- Elisha.

WIDOW --- So, you're the one with the chariot of fire.

ELISHA -- No, that was Elijah.

WIDOW --- Elijah, that's you.

ELISHA -- Elisha. Forget it. I'm out of here.

(door close, pause, knock, knock, knock)

WIDOW --- Oh, is it tomorrow already? Time sure flies on the 
radio. That must be that dastardly Mr Horace J Snidley at the 
door demanding his rent money. Won't he be surprised?

SNIDELY - Good morning, hot lips. I hope you've kissed your 
little rug rats goodbye, because they're going with me.

WIDOW --- I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mr Snidley, but I have 
your rent money for you. Here.

SNIDELY - That's impossible. Where did you get all this money? 
In fact, where did you get all these jars?

WIDOW --- It's a miracle from God, Mr Snidely. All these jars 
are filled with olive oil. I poured them all from my own 
half-full jar of oil, which is still half full. I already sold 
some of the oil to pay the rent.

SNIDELY - But....

WIDOW --- And I shall sell the rest of the oil and my children 
and I shall live a very comfortable life. So, now that you have 
your money, Mr Snidely, please leave.

SNIDELY - But...

WIDOW --- Business is business, Mr Snidely. Out.

SNIDELY - (fading) Curses, foiled again.

(door close)

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