The Messiah Is Coming

This morning on the way to work, an old Israeli guy in an undershirt and suspenders was standing outside, watching the building super load heavy crates off a truck. The super was Jamaican, with a build that fell somewhere between the Incredible Hulk and Fat Albert — although he was doing some pretty heavy lifting, so let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. I was motoring by, lost in this book that I’ve talked about way beyond acceptable boundaries.

“Hey, Michael,” calls the Israeli guy. “When the Messiah is going to come?”

Without missing a beat, the super gestures at me and says, “When his wife get home!”

I spin around and throw both my arms to the heavens. “Hey, how did you know?” I shout back at them. “She got home last week!”

They both chuckle, and the super nods knowingly. “You see?”

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