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Supper was a vegetarian bonanza tonight. Manny gleaned a couple of cucumbers, a few tomatoes, some radishes and a Vidalia onion from that vegetable stand on Route 19. The farmer wasn't able to give him any work to earn them, but apparently he figured that if he gave Manny something to eat, it would be unnecessary for him to steal or rob him. In Manny’s experience, most merchants were cynics, so it never hurt to ask for a job. If they felt he was sincere in his requests for employment, they seemed to be more willing to offer him something to disappear. Maybe it was their way of paying homage to the spirits by giving a sacrifice, Manny wasn’t sure. But, it was not hard for him to understand why ancient Japanese cultures did not hold merchants in great esteem. The Yashima family in Greeley, Colorado, taught him all about it, the year he picked sugar beets in their fields. Tradition was very important to the Japanese, and according to their religion, Shinto, you were born to a certain place in the caste system, you couldn't move up or down. Samurai warriors were at the top, because they defended the Emperor, and merchants were at the very bottom. Labor was respected and glorified, while profit was shunned and spurned. Manny wondered if, perhaps, the ancient Japanese hadn't hit the nail on the head.
Sitting up against a large cottonwood tree as he ate, Manny had a good view of the 180-degree panorama unfolding in front of him, but it offered little security against an attack from the rear. He heard the wind in the trees and the songs of the cicadae, as they sang three-part harmony. He felt, rather than saw, the eyes that stared at him in the waning light of dusk.
"Whoever's out there, please come in… you're welcome." he said, and sat back, waiting for a reply. "I have food to share, and some conversation, too, if you have an appetite for it."
"Much obliged," came the reply. Manny heard the voice behind him, and suddenly he felt vulnerable, not many could sneak up on him. As he craned his neck to look behind him, a gaunt form appeared from behind a willow bush. The man was even thinner than himself, and looked as though it had been awhile since he'd eaten.
"Howdy, could I interest you in an onion?"
"I don't think I can get that hungry." The man smiled.
"Well, the tomatoes and cukes are tasty, too."
"Much obliged, I'm truly beholden to you." .
"Don't got no meat to offer, but you're welcome to any of the rest."
"Again, I am grateful for your hospitality." the man stated, as he folded his legs and sat next to the outlaid salad. He selected each piece carefully, holding it in front of his eyes, studying it before slowly and thoughtfully bringing it to his mouth. He ate slowly and silently, chewing each mouthful in a similar manner. As Manny watched, he couldn't help noticing there was something unique about this person, something which didn't fit the mold of others he had experienced during his long road tenure. For the better part of an hour his guest dined, while Manny watched in silence. After eating a cucumber and a tomato, the man rubbed his hands together, perhaps to remove some debris that he could feel, or maybe just in keeping with habits formed over the course of his lifetime. He then ran his fingers through his long dark hair, and asked Manny, "What are you known by?"
Seconds passed like hours as Manny finally offered, "Well, sir, if you're asking me my name, I'm Manuel Jesus Veracruz. If you're asking me what I'm known by, I guess that might be a little more difficult to answer." Pleased with his wit, Manny grinned at the stranger.
The man's eyes gleamed at the answer, and he replied, " A wonderful name, Mr. Veracruz, you're very fortunate to have such a name."
"Most folks aren't so formal, they just call me Manny. And what are you known by?"
"If you're inquiring as to my name, some call me the Prince of Peace. If you want to know what I'm known by, well, I, too, think the answer might be of some length." Now it was the stranger’s turn to grin.
Manny clapped his hands together and laughed out loud. This guy’s all right. "O.K., Mister Prince, or is that Mister Peace- or Mister Prince of Peace? Let me rephrase. What do you like to be called?"
"Actually, I've always enjoyed being called Harold", he kidded.
"Aha! Well, Harold it is, then… pleased to make your acquaintance." At this point, Manny thought about moving after the conversation was over, just sort of disappearing into the night. This guy made him uneasy, but he couldn't explain exactly why. He strained to remember if there were a mental hospital close by. The two sat facing each other yet not making eye contact, in much the same manner that two strangers do when on an elevator. Most people with any breeding whatsoever knew it was impolite to stare, wasn't it? But when Manny looked back, Harold’s eyes were fixed on his own, and they had the doleful expression of a basset hound; clear and intelligent, yet somehow sad.
The silence was broken when Harold asked, "Manny, you're a man of the world, what would you do if you suddenly became aware that you were in danger of losing your life? If it seemed imminent, I mean."
Why don’t you just freak me out a little? Manny paused to formulate an answer. "Well, I don't think a man really knows what he'll do in any situation, not for certain. There are no lead pipe cinches, when it comes to death, I figure. I'd like to think that I wouldn't pee my pants or something like that… I don't know, pray maybe, if there was time, I guess."
"Then, you believe in God, Manny?" the man asked.
"Yes, I do, but-"
"And do you believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Savior of the world?"
Manny suddenly twitched like a call girl in a gynecologist's office. This was really making him uncomfortable. "Yes, I truly do, but why are you asking me these things, why is it important to you?"
Harold was silent for a time, as if digesting what Manny had told him. Then he resumed, "Forgive me, if I'm being too forward. It's difficult sometimes."
"What would that be, that's so difficult, if I may ask?" Here we go… I get to hear about Revelations and the Apocalypse.
"There's no need to be alarmed, Manny, I'm not going to harm you… I've never harmed anyone." With these words, Harold folded his hands under his chin and diverted his eyes to the ground. "Manny, you're a good man, and I know everything about you."
"Sheesh.....the FBI must not be paying too well these days," Manny uttered nervously, trying to diffuse the tension. "No, I'll bet it's CIA… yea, you're here to try to steal those rocket secrets I got, huh?"
Harold stood up and said, " Manny, I'm sorry to have alarmed you. You are not yet ready to receive me, but I will be close to you. Keep your faith, you will need it in the days to come."
He was gone. Manny couldn't recall actually seeing him leave, though. It was if he had just disappeared. The events of the evening , muddled though they were, left one thing certain in Manny’s mind- he couldn’t stay in this area tonight! As he quickly gathered his belongings, he contemplated which direction to go. What would Harold do? The guy was so spooky it would be impossible to predict what he might do, so Manny just started walking toward the dim aura of lights he saw on the horizon, there would be civilization there. Tonight, Manny’s dislike of cities was disregarded… maybe a little company might not be a bad thing. The walk would do him good, and it would be impossible to sleep. His pace was fast and strong tonight, and the breeze felt good in his face.
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