Chlora’s Lil Lamb
© 2003 Ginger Henry Geyer
Glazed porcelain with white gold and mother-of-pearl
Installed, 7 ¼” x 11” x 18” (in 4 parts)
Adaptation of Titian’s
Sacrifice of Isaac
Chlora was Little Bo Peep in the school play.
Her costume was frilly and hot, with a bustle
puffed out over her rear end. Her only comfort
was a rod and staff. All she had to do
was lose her sheep and act worried.
She did her part, exited stage left, ripped off
her bonnet, and sweat dripped down her neck.
Someone handed her a fan on a stick
and she batted her flushed face,
suddenly realizing Jesus the Good Shepherd
was the one giving her some air.
He had gone looking for his little lost lamb, while
Bo Peep, that idiot, had just left hers alone.
Chlora had never even seen a real lamb,
but she had a Lamb Chop puppet named Agnes
who played the lost lamb part without complaining.
The rest of the play was long and boring
so the two of them went snooping backstage.
They found some toys left behind
to entertain little kids in the second act—blocks,
paper dolls, Silly Putty, other benign things.
There was a big doll with bad hair that
looked like her old favorite,
the one her Mom gave away to a kid
who needed it more. That was about all Chlora knew
about sacrifice. Plus the fact that her parents never
let her have war toys. This was her lucky day, for
there sat a generic army tank with a remote control.
Chlora spread Agnes out on it,
like Jesus laying down his life.
Or was it a false prophet in sheepskin?
Now Agnes with her fleece as white as snow
would have to follow her around,
like Mary, and quit getting herself lost.
Chlora didn’t want her to wander into the desert
where sheep get tangled up with bushes, and end up
sacrificed like the big one in the Abraham and Isaac story.
Isaac probably liked sheep even more than Jesus did,
after his near miss.
Chlora stared at the remote’s buttons.
Was it ON or was it NO?
Suddenly it zapped off, taking away the sins of
the world. Where was the reverse?
The tanked up lamb was being led to slaughter,
straight onto the stage!
The tank started making pre-emptive war noises
and scared Little Miss Muffet right off her tuffet,
spilling her cottage cheese. Old Mother Hubbard’s dog
happily licked it up and took off after the tank.
Poor Agnes held on for dear life. The tank chased
Jack and Jill up their hill, Little Jack Horner wet his pants,
and the Old Woman in the Shoe crammed all her
shrieking kids behind the back drop. It crashed,
and the tank raged on, jerking, bellowing, blinking,
and snorting until it finally got jammed under
Little Boy Blue’s haystack and jolted him awake.
Served him right, that sheep-neglecter.
The audience hee-hawed, and the drama teacher
glared at Chlora like she was a heathen.
Chlora sheepishly tiptoed onstage to
retrieve Agnes. Chlora knew she was a black sheep
and this proved it. Plus all the ones Jesus had in
his Good Shepherd picture were white.
She swooped up the screaming tank and buried it in
her petticoat. Jesus knew that misery loves company
because he also had to wear a stupid long dress
instead of pants. How did he manage
to be a lamb and a shepherd at the same time?
Chlora’s job at the moment was to be pastoral,
so she gave Agnes the fan to calm her down.
Then she noticed it was from that money-sucking
funeral home where “one call does it all.”
Suddenly it was time for the curtain call.
Chlora was shoved forward.
She was blinded by the stage lights,
tripped on her hem, and fell.
It skinned her knee in the usual spot, and it decided
to bleed all over the place.
With one hand she covered her bloody knee,
with the other she held up her annoying skirt,
and hobbled onstage. Lord have mercy!
She was saved by her wounds.
The audience thought she was a hero,
washed in the blood of the lamb,
even if it was a public school.
This play would be her last act.
She would rather sell soap like Woollite
than be an actress. With so many prayer warriors
prowling around, there was going to be one
bloodbath after another,
and lots of folks looking for scapegoats
would need to come clean.
