How The Exodus Actually Happened

The Really True Story Of Mr. P Big G And Little M

Hello, my name is Robert Thaddeus Brown and this is my story.

It was back in the spring of nineteen sixty-three. I was ten, and my brother Joe was thirteen. Back in those days, we were poorer than Job’s turkey. In fact, we often hunted for Job’s turkey just to put food on the table. Yeah, my family was poor country folk, but we always had time for hunting and fishing and camping.

Camping, now that was always a treat. We’d pitch our tents and secure the area around each tent with makeshift moats to carry away the water in case it rained. Then we’d build us a fireplace, gather branches and dried grass and leaves and cook over an open fire.

Simple, but in a lot of ways, spiritual.

As young boys are often prone to do, Joe and I loved to explore, walking deep into whatever woods we were camped in. As we got older, these communal hikes in the woods became few and far between, but I still remember the feeling, a constant, gentle buzz of excitement that ran through my entire body as we explored.

This one time, we were camped in the Ozarks, and Joe and I lit out to do our thing. It was a crisp morning, the air almost stinging our lungs as we walked, the scent of composting leaves beneath our feet and white oak and shortleaf pine filling our nostrils.

That’s when we discovered the cabin. Well, I don’t think any respectable soul would call it a cabin. More like a shack, disheveled and weather-beaten, hardly managing to stand in the center of a small clearing. Sitting in an old rocker on the porch was a grizzled looking old man, his teased white hair curling up against his shoulders. As we neared, he grinned, proving to both my brother and I this man hadn’t visited a dentist in a very long time.

“Hello, boys. Don’t reckon I’ve seen you two around these parts before.”

“Hello, sir. Do you live here by yourself?”

“Oh, I live in a lot of places. That water in your canteen?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell ya what. I’ll trade ya a story for a sip of water from that canteen.”

Well, neither my brother nor I at that point had been told to never talk to strangers, so we stepped up on the porch, and I handed the old codger my canteen. He took a long pull, then stopped and smacked his lips, wiping droplets of water away with the back of his hand.

“A promise is a promise. You boys set a spell. I’m going to tell ya the real story of how the exodus happened. The real story of Mr. P, Big G, and little M.

So Mr. P was a hard man, a cruel man and though he was powerful and commanded an entire nation of people he always demanded more from his people. His armies were the most powerful in the world and they brought Mr. P many slaves he often used to build all his wonderful palaces and testaments to his power. And then one day one of the slaves came to him and told Mr. P that he had to stop all his cruelty to this body of slaves he’d captured. His name was little M. At first Mr. P laughed at him and told him to take a hike. But the thing Mr. P didn’t know was that little M was connected with some folks pretty high up on the food chain. Little M had a straight line connection with the biggest dude of all. Big G.

“Big G?” I asked.

“Don’t interrupt me, boy. I’m just getting started.”

So this Big G, he told little M to go back to Mr. P and tell him all the slaves weren’t going to put up with his shenanigans anymore and to let them all go, but Mr. P said no way no how. When little M told Big G what Mr. P said, Big G got pissed. He told little M to go back and tell Mr. P that he was going to make Mr. P’s entire civilazation pay. Big G was going to rain fire down on their heads, turn their rivers into blood and make frogs fall from the sky. Which actually, was a pretty cool thing ’cause a body can’t have enough fried frog legs.

“I love fried frog legs,” I said.

“Yeah me too,” the old man grumbled, may I continue?”

“Uh, sorry.”

Anyway, Big G was good at his word and after weeks of fire and blood and frogs, Big G decided he was going to really play hardball with stubborn old Mr. P. This time Big G sent his hoodlums out to kill the first born child of every one of Mr. P’s people, including Mr. P’s own son. Well, let me tell ya that sure as heck got Mr. P’s attention, and he called for little M and told him to take all the slaves and get the heck out of Dodge.

“So did he?”

“Did he what?

“Did he take all the slaves and get the heck out of Dodge?”

“You wanna let me finish?”

“Sorry.”

So little M did just that. He and this entire nation of slaves packed up their belongings and everything they could carry and they all lit out. The problem was Mr. P had a change of mind. He couldn’t let go of the fact than none of the slaves had lost their firstborn sons, and he wanted revenge. So, he sent his armies after the slaves. Gave his armies the command to kill them all. Now little M and his people were in a real pickle. Behind them was an army of soldiers with orders to kill them and in front of them was a huge river. It was deep and wide and had deadly currents. Little M and his people had no way to cross and no way to fight. So, little M asked a favor from Big G. He asked Big G to make a path for them to escape and that’s exactly what Big G did. He had his corp of civil engineers pull back the center of that river and make a walkway right through the middle of it. Little M and all the slaves rushed across to the other side just as the armies of Mr. P rushed into the river bed. Then Big G told his folks holding the edges of the river to let go, and Mr. P and all his armies drowned in the river that day.

“Wow. Big G saved the day.”

“Yes, he did, son. Now I reckon your parents are going to start wondering where you two boys are so y’all need to head back.”

We left the old man and made our way back to the camp. Later that night, spinning the yarn, the old man told us, watching as our parents smiled and gave each other knowing glances and us gentle nods.

On our last day camping, Joe and I went back to that old shack deep in the woods. The old man wasn’t there. In fact, it seemed to us no one had lived in the cabin for years and years. Except for one thing. We discovered a piece of paper in the chair where the old man sat. On the paper was written the following words.

Big G loves you, Joe Brown and Robert Thadeus Brown. Share the story, share the love.

To this day, neither Joe nor I understood how the old-timer knew our names.

Thanks So Much For Reading

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