April 2006 Archives

Mmm, sooo good. You want
Dijon? Chop pork? Egg salad?
Peanut butter and...

Authored by David

By Emily

     Jonli and Ghalson took stock, establishing their positions.
     "At least,” Ghalson stated, “you agree that there were two men.”
     “No,” returned Jonli, quite emphatically. “I’m sure it was the same man, two times.”
     “Nonsense,” Ghalson retorted. “It was plainly two different men, in two different cars.”
     “I can swear to the fact that it was the same man in the same car,” countered Jonli.
     “The same car?” queried Ghalson.
     “Yes, the same black car.”
     “I am positive,” insisted Ghalson, “that they were different cars. Different black cars, containing two separate men.”
     “I saw him!” exclaimed Jonli. “It was, I vouchsafe, the same man.”
     “Utterly ridiculous,” scoffed Ghalson. “The two men were of different races!”
     “What?” cried Jonli incredulously, “Different races?”
     “Yes,” affirmed Ghalson. “One of the men was black.”
     “Well, certainly,” Jonli agreed. “Both of the men were black.”
     “Clearly, there was one white man and one black man,” Ghalson demurred.
     “I agree,” assented Jonli, “that the first time it happened, a white man with long hair—“
     "Yes! A white man with long hair!” interrupted Ghalson.
     “—did pass us,” continued Jonli, “but he was followed by a black man in a black car.”
     “Who gave us the finger,” Ghalson elaborated.
     “Right,” Jonli agreed.
     A brief silence ensued.

     “Are you arguing,” said Jonli, pursuing the point, “that the second man was white?”
     “Of course not,” snorted Ghalson. “The second man was obviously black.”
     Jonli bit his lip, discouraged. “Are you claiming, then,” he queried, “that the first man was white?”
     “Yes,” Ghalson averred. “First came a white man with long hair, followed by a black man in a black car.”
     “But it was the man in the black car who gave us the finger!” exclaimed Jonli. “He was obviously the responsible party!”
     “Obviously,” agreed Ghalson.
      “Why bring the white man with long hair into it at all?” inquired Jonli.
     “I believe,” replied Ghalson, “that it was you who first mentioned him.”
     Another momentary silence descended.
     
     “Besides,” continued Ghalson, “The two incidents didn’t even involve the same car.”
     “Don’t be absurd,” snapped Jonli. “Of course it was the same car. The man would not have honked at us, produced a brutal but wordless scream, and given us the finger, only to change cars, return, and repeat the performance ten blocks away. Even you would not be so daring as to make such a claim.”
     Ghalson sighed. “In the first place,” he rejoined, “I have already said that it was not the same man. In the second place, the two cars were palpably distinguishable.”
     “Ludicrous,” Jonli countered. “Car and man were manifestly identical: the same black man in the same black car.”
     “Your claim is untrue!” cried Ghalson, his pride wounded. “I observed a number of discrepancies between these black cars, including the boxiness of the first and the matte finish of the second. As for the men, one of them was white!”
     “There, there,” said Jonli, in a conciliatory tone. “I myself noticed a boxiness about the car during the second incident, and, regarding the finish, you may well be right. I know!” he went on, brightening, “we could ask Rauschmann for a third opinion.”
     Ghalson was dubious. “Surely at this point we have little chance of locating him again,” he mused.
     “I don’t know about that,” argued Jonli. “If that man in the black car could track us down with such ease…and in any case, dinner only ended a few minutes ago. Rauschmann can’t have gone far.”
     “Don’t be an idiot,” Ghalson retorted. “He left long before dinner even began, don’t you remember?”
     “But it was he who so wanted to patronize that particular café!” exclaimed Jonli. “He showed us to it specifically!”
     “Nevertheless, he was gone soon afterward,” Ghalson insisted.
     “I seem to recall,” persisted Jonli, “that he went so far as to order the eel.”
     “In any case, it isn’t important,” maintained Ghalson. “Rauschmann was not yet with us when the first incident occurred, and he was very distracted during the second.”
     “Distracted?” asked Jonli, surprised. “As I remember the episode, he was paying the utmost attention.”
      “Regardless,” Ghalson persevered, “you must admit that his absence at the first incident would reduce the value of his opinion considerably, even assuming he could be found.”
     “True,” assented Jonli, and lapsed into silence again.

     “And yet,” Jonli resumed, after a pause, “if it were not precisely the first incident that forms the hinge of our disagreement, his input about the perpetrator of the second incident might prove useful.”
     Ghalson was startled. “Have we gone so far as to establish that the first incident forms the hinge of our disagreement?” he asked, worriedly.
     “It is certainly the episode upon which we have expended the most energy,” Jonli pointed out. “Surely, there can be no disagreement about the identity of the man behind the second incident, of whom we were afforded such a clear view.”
     “That’s true,” Ghalson relucantly agreed. “I wouldn’t have noticed his long hair if we had not been fairly close.”
     “What is this about long hair?” Jonli barked. “He was as close-cropped as you or I.”
     “In your case,” sniggered Ghalson, “that isn’t saying much. But I believe, if I am not mistaken, that the white man’s hair was even longer than yours.”
     “How many times have I repeated that the man was black!” Jonli ejaculated. “We were right next to him. How can you deny that the second incident, of all things, was executed by a close-cropped black man?”
     “I have always clearly stated, and remain faithful to the position, that the person responsible for the second incident was a white man with long hair,” Ghalson declared, with a dignified air.
     “Balderdash!” riposted Jonli. “The perpetrator of the second incident was unquestionably a black man in a black car. Furthermore, his style of short, rapid honks was identical to that of the man behind the first incident, and he even gave another, similarly feral scream!”
     “Actually,” said Ghalson, thoughtfully, “I don’t believe that the first scream issued from the perpetrator of the incident.”
     “What?” gasped Jonli, momentarily stunned. “Are you claiming that the black man in the black car was not even responsible for the first incident?”
     “Of course he was responsible,” Ghalson assured him. “After all, there is the fact that he went on, a mere thirty seconds later, to give us the finger.”
     “Exactly!” cried Jonli. “And just previous to that, he let forth a vicious yet wordless scream full of rage threatening to let loose its fury.”
     “That is where I must disagree,” Ghalson opined. “I perceived the scream to issue from one of the itinerant beggars who hovered around the intersection during the confrontation.”
     “What, and it was just a coincidence that the black man in the black car gave a nearly identical scream during the second incident?” Jonli asked unbelievingly.
     “The black man in the black car had nothing to do with the second incident,” Ghalson replied, “but it is rather coincidental that the white man with long hair should imitate so convincingly the screaming vagabond. Perhaps this long-haired white man was the very one who you say passed us during the first incident. How would you describe his appearance?”
     “But this is incredible,” objected Jonli. “Do you mean to say that you never saw him for yourself?”
     “Well! I assumed that I could take your word on this one detail,” spluttered Ghalson.
     “A very sound assumption,” remarked Jonli. “But a more germaine point to address would be the technique of short, rapid honking displayed by the perpetrator during both incidents.”
     “As a matter of fact, I’m glad you raised this question,” returned Ghalson. “In my opinion, the person honking in such staccato fashion during the first incident was not actually the perpetrator, but a well-wisher in another car who honked, not at us, but at the angry black man in the black car.”
     “And what, in your estimation, had the man in the black car done to provoke the short, rapid honks, if he himself was not honking and had not screamed?” sneered Jonli.
     “Presumably,” Ghalson speculated, “he was showing subtle signs of impatience unnoticed by you or I.”
     "Insupportable!” shrieked Jonli. “Do you even acknowledge that an incident occurred?”
     “One must admit,” considered Ghalson, “that a number of factors converged to exasperate a black man in a black car to such a degree that he expressed his feelings, some seconds later, by giving us the finger.”
     “Yes,” Jonli acceded, exhausted, “one must admit that. But,” he continued, “to deny that this same man returned some blocks later, still showing signs of anger, is to rob the entire anecdote of its power to interest.”
     “I emphatically disagree,” stated Ghalson, taken aback. “There are the inexplicable mysteries of the screaming vagabond, his long-haired white imitator, the perceptive powers of the honking well-wisher, and, most baffling of all, Rauschmann’s early disappearance from his favorite restaurant. If you stop to consider the problem, mine is the truly intriguing version of events.”
     “An interesting point,” Jonli conceded, “although I would still maintain that the set of enigmas contained within my version of events, including the inexplicable rage of the black man in the black car, and the manner in which he reappeared behind us, still angry, minutes after we assumed him permanently vanished, present themselves in an even more baffling light. Yours, however, does have the benefit of being the less alarming interpretation.”
     Ghalson was plainly dumbstruck. “Whatever could inspire you in such a fabulist assertion?” he inquired.
     “My dear sir!” chided Jonli. “Merely the clear fact that disbursing the violent or aggressive behavior over a large number of randomly acting people belies the idea that we are dealing with a single dangerous lunatic who might at any time reappear in our lives!”
     “On the contrary,” Ghalson reasoned, “The less alarming account is plainly yours. Whereas in it, at least, the aggression we encountered can be laid at the feet of one disturbed individual veering wildly from the norm, my interpretation places us at the mercy of a world in which aimless hosility radiates from every pore and crevice of the city itself. Surely the second is the worse option.”
     “When you put it like that,” considered Jonli, “it truly is a choice between more alarming and more intriguing, or more intriguing and more alarming.”
     “Perhaps,” agreed Ghalson, holding out his arm, “that is a judgment the audience must make for themselves.”
     “My friend,” replied Jonli, taking it, “we shall leave them to it.”
     And they trod, arm in arm, through the downpour.