The Good Homosexual

This is my modern retelling of Jesus' parable of the Good Samaritan.  I tried to put it in terms that modern Christians would understand, since we no longer are familiar with the context in which Jesus told the story.

            I was walking back from Wendy’s at 10 p.m. when out from behind a bush popped two guys.  I barely got a look at them, but they hit me across the face and pushed me down.  One of them took my purse.  When I tried to get up, they stepped on my knee.  I heard a crack and cried out in pain.  The two robbers, my purse in hand, ran off down 82^nd. 

            I cried for a couple minutes when I found I couldn't get up because of my leg, but then I saw an elderly couple coming out of the Thai restaurant, making their way to the car.  A flicker of hope burst up in my chest and I tried to call out to them but I didn't need to: the woman had already seen me.  She got her husband’s attention and pointed to me.  Whispering to each other, they hurried across the street without a look back.  I whimpered in dismay and pain.

            But then I saw, coming down the sidewalk, one of the professors from my school!  Finally, a savior!  I raised my hand to get his attention.  He saw me, paused for a moment, and crossed to the other side of the street.  I gasped in surprise.  A Bible school teacher!  And he walked away!  Maybe he thought I was a prostitute.  Couldn't he tell I was hurt?

            I buried my face in my hands and wept.  In a few minutes, I heard footsteps.  I peeked through my fingers.

            He had pink hair, spiked up, and metal in his ears, nose, and lips.  His shirt looked like one my friend Katie had, and his pants were so tight I wasn't sure he would be able to bend down, but he did, and stared me in the eye.

            “What happened to you?” he asked.

            “I was robbed,” I choked, still wincing from the pain in my leg.

            “Raped, too?” he asked.

            “No,” I said.

            “Good,” he said.  “What’s your name?”  I told him.  He pulled out his phone and dialed 9-1-1.  When the ambulance arrived, he rode to the hospital with me.  There he called my friends and family and waited until they arrived.

            Then, “You be careful, girl.  Take it easy.”  And he was gone.  The good homosexual.