Wednesday, November 10, 2004
At Allah's Front Door
Yahweh knocks on Allah's front door. He hears noises inside, but no one comes to the door. He knocks again. Rustle, rustle, but another long wait. He knocks a third time.
Finally the door opens. There stands Allah himself in shorts, a t-shirt saying INSH'ME, and a frayed straw hat. Under each arm giggles a scantily clad virgin.
"What, Yahweh," Allah says crabbily. "What you want."
Yahweh cranes his neck to look past them into the house. "Is, uh, Arafat here yet?"
"No," Allah says, and tries to close the door.
Yahweh places a big palm against the door, leans in. "Where is he?" he says. "I thought he'd be here by now."
Allah sighs. His shoulders slump around the virgins. "I think so too," he says. "Look. You want come in? Come in."
"No, no, that's okay," Yahweh says.
"What you want with Arafat?" Allah says.
"I might have a job for him," Yahweh says.
"What kind job?" Allah says. "Why Arafat want work for you, God of Israel?"
"Oh," Yahweh says, "I think it might be just the kind of thing he'd be interested in. Once he gets his bearings and stuff."
"I tell him you ask," Allah says, "when he is arriving. Now--"
Again Yahweh stops the door. "Listen," he says, "on a different note, if you don't mind my asking, what exactly do you do with those virgins you've got there?"
Allah rolls his eyes. "Always with the sex questions from you. I really--"
"Okay, okay," Yahweh says, taking his hand off the door and stepping back. "Don't tell me. Fine. I was just asking, sheesh."
