An Innocuous Man

            The overzealous horn-honking of an irate driver rounding the corner muted the little man’s response.  He stood, waiting patiently for the incensed woman behind the wheel to lift her palm from the wheel, and smiled tenderly at the curious couple with whom he was now engaged in conversation.  With a staccato squeal of tires, a jerky move around the double-parked pickup, and a hand lifted with the old familiar suggestion, the horn ceased to bleat. 

            “Wha?” Jimmy asked.

            “I said, Jesus Christ.”  The little man’s eyes smiled at Jimmy and Sophie as though sharing a bold and exciting secret. 

            Sophie’s jaw, which had until now been working at grinding the candied coating of her gum into its own soft center, stopped its motion.  “You mean, like, the guy in the bible?”

            “Hmmm.  I’ve heard rumor of this book,” said the stranger in the overcoat.  “Yes, yes, I suppose that’s me.  Do you know where I might pick up a copy to peruse?”

            “So…hang on.  Your name is Jesus Christ, you’re visiting from Palestine, and you’re asking us where you can get a bible so you can read all about yourself?”  Jimmy was incredulous. 

            “Yes.  If a book was written about you, wouldn’t you want to know what it said?”

            Jimmy’s eyes slid to his left, then up and over to Sophie, his head cocked disparagingly.  “Hey, Sophie, get a load a this.  We’re here in the middle of Manhattan giving directions to Jesus Christ.  The Jesus Christ!  Hey, J.C., lemme ask you, what does the H stand for?”

            The question perplexed the man.

            Sophie had a thought.  “Mister, if you’re really him, why do you look like that?”

            “Like what?” said the man. 

            “You know, short.  And bald.  And, well, tubby.”  She raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth to reveal her teeth in attempt to appear apologetic. 

            Jimmy had less couth.  “And that nose, my God, it’s as big as my cock!”  He shouted the final word with the last ounce of air in his lungs so it was coarsely enunciated. 

            “My nose is hardly as large as a rooster, dear farmer.”

            Sophie began to giggle softly.  “Really, you know who you look like is that guy from The Princess Bride, the “Inconceivable” guy.  Only with darker skin.”

            Jimmy let out a roaring guffaw upon hearing that.  “Fuckin’-A right!  Aww, just say it once, would’ja?  Say “inconceivable,” please!”

            “Inconceivable?” the man asked.  “Why?”

            Jimmy didn’t hear the last word, for his laughter rendered it inaudible. “Sophie, do you believe this?  Jesus is a short, fat, bald sand nigger with a huge honker!  Who’da thunk it?”

            “Brother, I get the impression that your attitude toward me is no longer friendly.  Have I offended you?”  The shoeless man seemed genuinely concerned. 

            Jimmy’s attitude turned dour.  “Goddamn right you offend me.  It’s gotten so I can’t walk around this city anymore without being bothered by some nutjob.  I want you to take your bible and your ugly face and go fuck yourself.”  He was thrusting his index finger into the stranger’s chest and poking at him with every other word.

            The small man seemed neither threatened nor insulted.  “As your attitude toward me grows increasingly hostile, I shall thank you for your knowledge and say farewell.  Go with God, brother.” 

            “Righto, douchebag.”  With that, Jimmy grasped the wrist of his fiancé and tugged her toward the 33^rd Street subway entrance across the street.  Stepping down into the intersection, he rambled into a shallow puddle of water. 

            “Holy fuckin’ Mary ‘n Joseph, would’ja lookit this, Sophie?  You see what I’m doin’ here?  I’m walkin’ on fuckin’ water here!  Can ‘ya believe it?  Fuck that guy, I must be Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ!”  He skipped the rest of the way over the puddle like a schoolboy at recess, jerking Sophie roughly behind him.  She glanced back to the stranger with embarrassed sympathy in her eyes and saw him crack a gentle smile of acceptance just as Jimmy’s hand broke from hers and was lurched high into the air, then down again roughly until it was cut many times by the uneven pavement of 33^rd Street.

            Sophie stopped and turned to see the reflection of her knees in the fender of a black Lincoln Town Car.  The scent of burning oil overpowered her nostrils and she realized that it came from the car’s tires, each of which had a trail of black, rubbery residue streaming behind it.  She glanced to her right, toward the sound of a dog’s whining, and realized that the sound did not come from a dog at all, but rather from Jimmy’s own throat.  About twenty feet separated her from the beau who had seconds before been pulling her across the street, and now Jimmy’s left leg had a femur protruding from it, and the flesh of his arms, neck, and face that were not obscured by torn clothing were scraped and cut and bloody.

            The stranger began walking toward the Chrysler Building.  He had heard that it was a wonder of twentieth century architecture and wanted to see for himself if it compared to any of the things he had witnessed in his travels.  Before Jimmy had developed his unusual and blasphemous behavior, he had said the building was nine blocks up on the right. 

            As the little man crossed over the puddle in the street, nobody seemed to notice that his feet failed to touch the ground.  Everyone was far too preoccupied with the poor man who lay mangled in the street and the woman who was shrilly yelling at them to “do something, for Chrissakes.”