CHARISMATIC MEGAFAUNA

By Quiconque

Transit Tales 2

"Are you a cowboy?" my little cousin asked the man sitting next to him as everyone else on in the subway car gasped.

"No, I am not a cowboy," the man replied.

"Are you Santa Claus?" my cousin continued.

"No, I am not Santa Claus," said the man.

"You're not Santa Claus? Well, then, what's that?" My cousin touched his chin.

"That's my beard," replied the man.

"A beard? Is it real?" asked my cousin as he began to pull on the man's beard.

"Yes, it's real."

"What are you reading?" asked my cousin, who, at three years old, has decided that an incessant barrage of questions constitutes a conversation. (For this he is called Socrates by a family friend. I just call him Obelisk the Tormentor.)

"My prayers," replied the incredibly patient man.

"You mean like 'In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit?'"

"Not exactly," answered the man, because, no, he was not a cowboy, Santa, or even Catholic, but he was one of the Hasidim.

"I can read your book," declared my preliterate cousin.

"You can read this? Okay, why don't you try," said the man as he titled his prayer book for my cousin to see.

But, before my cousin had a chance to make up some Hebrew, the train reached his stop and he had to leave.

********

Happy Easter. May you die in your sleep, if that's what you want!
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LINKS

DIARYRINGS

READING: The Da Vinci Code. I devoured it in two afternoons. Yeah, I'm a latecomer.

WATCHING: Top Chef. Damn you, Bravo, for making me watch reality TV. I hate you. Call me.