Page 22 - The Myth and the Moment
P. 22

Morning

          “Huh?”
          “God will be here at the end of never, and you better have your
        truck fixed and out of my driveway by then.”
          The suit. It’s Sunday. Church. What do the Jesuits look like these
        days?  Maybe  they’re  out  in  the  world,  disguised  as  clean-cut  kids,
        driving the heretics off the streets. I’d better get moving before the
        Grand Inquisitor arrives. Stall for time while I get the wheel off.
          “Look here, sonny: I have no desire to be blocking your driveway,
        however minimally.”
          “Doesn’t matter what you want if you break the law, mister.”
          “Say, you wouldn’t want to help me, would you? I’ll get out of here
        much faster. It’s just like a game, see? I get these nuts off the wheel
        and you stack them up on the curb so I don’t lose them, okay?”
          Oh, Nate, you’re such a child psychologist.
          “I’d be breaking the law, too.”
          “No, no, no. You’d be helping a stranger in distress. Doesn’t the
        Bible  say  something  about  doing  good  deeds?  You  know,  charity,
        turning the other cheek, loving thy neighbor.”
          “If God doesn’t want you to get caught, God will help you. But
        you have to help yourself first. Anyway, you’re not my neighbor.”
          “Uh!”
          Another off; one more. Do they really fill these kids’ minds with all
        the answers and then zip them shut? If you don’t have to obey logic,
        how can anyone argue against you? A thousand years of scholasticism
        culminating  in  the  split  of  faith  and  reason,  and  now  these
        fundamentalists  are  throwing  out  reason,  since  the  facts  don’t
        support their folklore.
          “Urnk!”
          Naturally, the last one won’t come loose. I don’t like the way my
        back cracked that time. Got to sit down.
          “My father can change a tire faster than you can.”
          “I don’t doubt it.”
          “But God is always helping him. He’d help you if you’d ask.”
          “Your father?”
          Maybe he has a decent lug wrench.
          “No: God. Mister, don’t you believe in God?”
          Why, this damned child is conducting a heresy trial right out here
        on the street! Patience, Nate, patience. Be saintly, be crafty.

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