And when the jostling of the moving vehicle finally ceased, Bing's eyes adjusted to the light of his destination, a hippie commune.
Still taking in the scene before him, Bing was startled by a gruff voice saying, "Well hello, little fella. Welcome to greener pastures." This was all too serendipitous. The young lad's heart swelled with gratitude. His eyes filled with tears. Hot from his long ride and hungry from the journey, Bing had arrived at his destination!
"Hello" replied the boy. "My name is Bing Keefer."
"Marley," the tall man replied and he stretched out a steady hand. "Where are your parents young Bing?"
Bing raised his eyes, now moist with happiness, to the stranger. A patriarch, thought the boy. Just like Aunt Constance's flannel-graph figures. Marley was clothed in coarse material, colorful, simple with an ample beard that descended from his face and neck to his belly button. Surely a man who resembles a flamboyant Moses can be trusted.
"They are dead." Bing answered truthfully.
"Well, that's a shame! You all alone at your age. You will just have to come with Marley. We'll give you some sweet nectar of the earth and fill your belly. You will find that we are all family here. Come on, I know Prism will be delighted to meet you." With this welcome fresh on his lips, Marley turned and motioned for Bing to follow.
A conflict now raged within the lad's chest. He had been taught, along with all the other little boys in the neighborhood to not only disdain the use of matches as play toys but to never absolutely never go with strangers. But Marley looked like Moses, spoke with nearly prophetic clarity of the green pastures long anticipated, and even promised sustenance. This was cruel indeed. Bing hesitated.
a. With a shrug and a light step, Bing followed the hippie Marley.
b. Remembering with sudden clarity the earnest warnings of his Aunt and Uncle, and reasoning that they had never made exceptions for Biblical characters in the flesh, Bing resolutely ran in the opposite direction.