“That is a Buddha standing there!”

“It doesn’t matter what he is,” Paul McCaleb said. “Tell him to get away from my salt lick.”

Paul, rifle in hand, walked toward the holy man. Paul’s son, Travis, stared incredulously at the fat, bald man who was out standing in their field, near his father’s illegal salt lick. This was the middle of West Virginia! What was a Buddha doing here?

“What are you doing here?” Travis asked as they approached the stranger.

“I have come from far away,” the stranger said, his yellow robes flapping in the West Virginia wind.

“I knew you weren’t from around here,” Paul said.

“I have come because of the terrible evil fixed upon you. It has sought you out in order to destroy this mountain, this country, this plant. A channel between this world and another shall open. The destruction of all that is shall follow.”

“Ya mean: all hell’s getting ready to break loose,” Paul said.

“Yes.”

“But, how did you get here?” Travis cried. “You got any ID? Driver’s license? Credit cards? Passa Portay?” Paul sneered.

“I have none of those things.”

“You’re not one of those terrorists are you? You’re not from Saudi Arabia?”

“Dad!!” Travis squealed. “Stop it! He’s harmless! Look at him!”

“Well, what if you or I were going over to the Middle East to blow somethin’ up?

Huh, Travis? Do you think we’d be waving the American flag and singing songs by Toby Keith?”

“Who is Toby Keith?” the Buddhist whispered.

“Heck no! They’d spot us in a heartbeat! Probably we’d disguise ourselves as somebody harmless. Maybe...like him.”

“The end of the world is coming,” the Buddhist said. He stooped down and drew a symbol in the dirt. He asked, “Do you know this sign?”

“It’s Yin and Yang,” Travis said.

“It looks like it would be a really good sign for chocolate marble cake,” Paul said.

“Oh, dear God,” Travis moaned.

“You know, like if you had a restaurant and you wanted the truckers to know you served really good marble cake,” Paul said.

“It is not the symbol for marble cake,” the Buddhist said. “It is the symbol for cosmic balance.”

“Do you have the copyright on that symbol?”

The Buddhist was a little perplexed. “I- I do not know,” he stammered.

“Well, don’t you think you ought to find out? I mean, one day somebody might decide to make that a symbol for chocolate marble cake. There you’ll be, offering cosmic balance, and some trucker’s going to come up to you and say, ‘Where’s my chocolate marble cake, you slacker??!!”

“Do you have any chocolate marble cake?”

“No.” there was an awkward silence and then Paul added, “But I ain’t putting that symbol up anywhere neither.”

“There is a great disturbance in this balance,” the Buddhist said in a strained voice. “It must be mended.”

“And I suppose you’re the guy to do it,” Paul said. “I guess you’re a vegetarian, don’t drink, don’t smoke, all that?”

“I am in harmony with the universe.”

Paul chuckled. “Everyone in the universe is in harmony with the universe,” Paul said. “I mean, they’re all in the universe, aren’t they? And the universe is in tune, isn’t it?”

A finch flew over their heads. The Buddhist said. “I understand that bird. I am one with it.”

“You see that squirrel in that tree?” Paul asked. He aimed his rifle and fired. “I understand that that squirrel is one with my dinner.”

“I want to apologize for my father-”

The earth trembled ominously. The Buddhist struggled to stay on his feet.

“Travis,” Paul said. “Go back to the house and get Betsy.”

As the boy ran off, Paul explained to the Buddhist, “Betsy is my grandfather’s rifle.”

The Buddhist still seemed confused, so Paul said, “There are only two things you need to do in this world. You need to believe in God and you need to love God’s people. It don’t matter what course you take to do this.”

“And this gun- this weapon helps you believe?”

“I would face the devil himself with this gun and it is my duty to put myself between the minions of hell and God’s people.”

An earsplitting explosion cracked the sky. The wind picked up violently. Travis was almost swept away before he handed the aging rifle to his father.

A spot in the sky burned with black flame and grew bigger by the minute. The colors of the field and surrounding forest began to bleed and loose substance.

“I ain’t scared of you,” Paul growled at the sky. “I think you remember a great-great-great-grandfather of mine that caught you by the tail and slung you ‘round and ‘round ‘til he threw you back into the void!”

Although they had no knowledge of the deed, the Buddhist and the boy knew he was talking about Davy Crockett and the legend that he had wrestled with a comet.

By now, the hole of fire was taking up the better part of the sky. Time began to warp. The whole scene took on a burnt umber tint that made everything look like a vintage photo. Paul raised his rifle and took aim with the old gun. He stood before the mouth of hell armed with everything he believed in and took his best shot.

It was enough. It was just enough.

The sky began to clear and the birds resumed singing. Travis gasped, drawing his first breath since the sky started changing. Paul shouldered the old rifle and smiled. It was good to be alive in West Virginia.

“I came here,” the Buddhist said, that I might learn from you”

“Well,” Paul said, nodding toward the sky and all that had just happened, “There ya go.”

And it was all very Zen...in a redneck sort of way.