Journal, July 24, 1997
Day before last I placed an ad in the Recycler letting those in my area know that my old May ’84 TV was for sale.
This morning I received a call from Jim, who inquired as to the year, make and model of said TV. Satisfied that it was close enough to what he was looking for, he informed me he’d be setting out for my apartment presently.
Twenty minutes later, he arrived in a small, beige, early model sedan. The buzz at my intercom informed me of his arrival, and I buzzed the gate in return, then went out to meet him.
He seemed a friendly sort. He was of slight build and attenuated stature, dark-complected with friendly brown eyes. As he neared, I caught wind of a certain unsubtle acridity in the air, one not nearly so friendly as his eyes.
We went inside. I showed him the television. He commented that the picture was somewhat grainy, and asked if I’d take $15 (I had asked for $20 in the ad). I said, Sure. He asked if I had anything else to sell. I mentioned our microwave. He asked if I’d help him to his car, and then perhaps we could come back to demo the microwave.
We went out to his car. He opened his trunk, which, in addition to spare tire and tools, contained a peculiar assortment of hopelessly irreconcilable items: plates; old newspaper; a discombobulated VCR; old, empty plastic grocery bags‑-and now my TV.
As we turned back toward the apartment, it started. He began to relate to me the history of Muhammad.
He was born 1500 years ago, Jim told me, and he is the one true prophet. Allah is the one true God, and we must come to Him before our time is up.
Jim then inquired as to my religious affiliation, guessing at first I was a Christian (n0), then Catholic (no), then Protestant (no), then Jewish (no); then he guessed right: atheist. But I espoused an interest in the matter, if only to make Jim happy. And so he continued on in his epistle, as I readied the microwave to test warm the body of Christ (i.e., an old heel of bread, long since interred in the back of our fridge).
Curiously, Jim never looked at me while he recited the litany of his chosen faith. Instead, he maintained a constant visual deflection at some 30°. I tested the constancy of this angle by moving further into his field of vision, whereupon he averted his eyes correspondingly. There were moments when those once friendly eyes seemed like they were going to turn my way again, but then the lids would close over them in paroxysm, foiling any attempt at making brief contact. But then, all of a sudden, they were right on me, unblinking, and they wouldn’t leave.
Yeah, a little weird.
I managed to get him outside for the oven demo. I laid the bread inside the microwave, closed the door, and heated it for ten seconds or so. I removed it. Jim asked me if the bread was warm, apparently not seeing the steam rising in the cool morning air. I said that indeed it was, and handed it over to him as proof. He seemed satisfied, and said he’d take the oven.
As I started inside, he asked me if he could take the piece of bread I’d just heated. I guess that constituted some sort of a package deal for him. I said, Sure, why not?
So he folded the bread in two, and placed it in his breast pocket.
Allah be praised!
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