The Holy Jericho Tompkins

One day, not long ago, a man of healthy age took a long and pleasing bike ride through a dark and winding wood. He eventually came to a stop after seeing a large fallen tree had blocked his path. Disembarking from his bicycle, he said a silent prayer to the Lord and, lo, there appeared before him, as if out of thin air, a stout, burly man with skin of gold.
"Gadzooks!" said the bike-rider, in surprise.
"Behold!" said the glorious golden man. "I am Jericho Tompkins, servant of our Lord, keeper of the faith, defender of the holy, and seeker of the chosen."
"I hope you can assist me, sir," said the bike-rider, still surprised.
"Behold!" said Jericho Tompkins, looking as radiant and as golden as ever. "I have heard your prayer and will help you presently, but first you must agree to a most ominous bargain."
"Whatever you ask, Mr. Tompkins," said the bewildered bike-rider. "Just that you deliver me from my trouble."
"Behold!" said the colossal man of gold as he produced from his massive rucksack a long wooden rod. "This is my magic staff, carved from a mystical disbarked elm tree by the Lord's sacred craftsmen. With it, I shall spirit you to your home, to live safely for all your days."
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Tompkins!" cried the bike-rider.
"Behold!" shouted the Holy Jericho Tompkins. "You must still agree on one condition, and one only. I desire a wife for to bear me sons, and I shall take yours in exchange for your ensured well-being."
The bike-rider, at first shocked, decided that he would agree to the deal. In the flicker of an instant, he found himself back in his country cottage. His wife was indeed gone, nowhere to be found, and he would never see her again for the rest of his days. Twenty-six years later, he died of a heart attack in his sleep. His funeral arrangements were handled by the state of South Dakota.

The End.