Clothing Optional (4 page)

Would I ever go back? I think so. With my wife? God knows. But those questions would have to wait.

When I pulled up to the softball field, it was the fourth inning. And as I approached the bleachers, I purposely limped the way one would if he'd actually had minor back surgery.

My NYC Marathon

Today, I am sorry to say, I will not be running in the New York City Marathon because I've been out promoting my novel about a man who is running in the New York City Marathon and I didn't have time to train. I didn't run in last year's marathon either because I was busy writing my novel about a man who is running in the New York City Marathon and I didn't have time to train. I did, however, run in the 2003 New York City Marathon. I trained hard for that one. I joined a running group, did stretching exercises, watched my diet, and finished in 33,517th place. A half hour slower than the time of my previous marathon, for which I didn't train at all.

I harbor not even the slightest embarrassment that while I was running, a person could have gotten a good night's sleep. Or have consecutively boiled 127 three-minute eggs. Or that while I was still hauling my fifty-three-year-old carcass through the streets of Brooklyn, the winner had not only crossed the finish line at Tavern on the Green but was probably already on a plane back to Kenya.

None of those things bother me because my goal was modest. All I wanted was to finish. To allow the cheers of the crowds to carry me through the five boroughs and allow me to revisit some neighborhoods I hadn't seen since childhood. In effect, a tour. I knew my limitations and had no illusions that by dint of a good night's sleep I would miraculously get a burst of energy and become the new winged symbol for FTD.

So at the start of the race, I lined up toward the back of the pack for pretty much the same reason that cowboys, if given the choice, would prefer to be behind the horses during a stampede. And after the gun sounded, it was thrilling being a part of a 35,000-strong throng moving en masse across the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge on a beautiful November morning. I also appreciated the wit displayed by my fellow marathoners who had shunned the traditional running shorts and T-shirts and were dressed, oh, let's call it unconventionally, for the 26.2-mile journey. Among them were a bride, a man wrapped in an American flag bouncing red, white, and blue basketballs, a one-legged waiter carrying a bar tray with a mug of beer attached to it, Abraham Lincoln, a surgeon, and what I believe was a deli clerk. It supplied added color to an already colorful event, and I didn't even mind when they all passed me—figuring that they either were better runners than me or might eventually drop out of the race when they felt their joke was over.

The polar bear did bother me, however. A lot. Whether it was a thin person wearing two hundred pounds of white fur or a very fat person wearing a tight furry sweater, I'm not sure, but I first noticed him when he scampered past me in Williamsburg, where he was given high fives by Hasidic families who ignored me when I eventually came upon them. Was it possible that, as they were snubbing me, he turned back in my direction and waved at me before turning around and disappearing into the masses ahead? No, I figured. He was probably waving to an amused child who had called out to him or to another tundra-dwelling mammal who was also running that day. So I proceeded along and figured I had seen the last of him because there was no sighting in all of Queens.

Manhattan was another story. For when I came across the Queensboro Bridge, panting and carb-depleted, I turned up First Avenue and spotted him again. Leaning against one of the refreshment tables that are stationed at every mile marker and eating a bagel. The thought that there were still ten miles to go until the race ended in Central Park was, indeed, a daunting one under normal circumstances. But after a polar bear makes eye contact with you a second time, gestures as if offering you a bite of his sesame bagel, folds his paws onto his chest, and does an Arctic jig before turning around and heading uptown, you can't help but feel stupid. And unathletic. So I grabbed a bagel of my own and took off. For the sake of accuracy, when I say “took off,” I mean that I trudged along in the same direction determined to catch up—which I almost did when he waved to me after he drank some Gatorade in the Bronx, after he had stopped to play the harmonica with a street band in Harlem, and after he crossed the finish line about fifty yards ahead of me in Central Park.

To this day it is hard for me to believe that someone dressed as a polar bear actually beat me in the New York City Marathon. Yes, I know I said that just completing the race was victory enough, and it was. Still, once this book tour is over, I plan to start training for next year's marathon with another goal in mind—to finish ahead of anyone dressed similarly, so my children will stop laughing at me.

Mendel

Then spake Joshua to the Lord in the day when the Lord delivered up the Amorites before the children of Israel and he said “Sun, stand still.”…And the sun stood still until the children of Israel had avenged themselves upon their enemies.

—
JOSHUA
10:12

EXT. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD—NIGHT

         

A confused Mendel is pacing in front of a buffet table.

MENDEL

Why is it still dark? I don't understand it. Granted, I am but a simple caterer. However, it doesn't take a great scholar to know that the night should be followed by the morning—and not by another night.

Mendel looks toward heaven.

MENDEL
(cont'd)

Where is it? Isn't there someone who can tell me where the sun is?

Mendel starts pacing again.

MENDEL
(cont'd)

What's the sense of fooling myself? Nobody can explain it. How could they possibly explain it? Every mortal I know has overslept. Oh dear God—while my beautiful spread turns rancid, my entire village sleeps.

Mendel looks toward heaven.

MENDEL
(cont'd)

Tell me, dear God—what in your name is going on?

GOD

What's the problem?

MENDEL

What's the problem? I thought you were all-knowing.

GOD

I am.

MENDEL

So? Can't you see what's wrong?

GOD

Not really. It's sort of dark.

MENDEL

That's the problem.

GOD

Oh.

MENDEL

Well? How come it's still dark?

GOD

Excellent question, Mendel. You're very inquisitive for a caterer.

MENDEL

Thanks, but…

GOD

The fact is, you woke up too early. Go back to sleep.

MENDEL

I…

GOD

Maybe I should do the same.

(bad acting)

I know I'm the Supreme Being, but trust me,

I too am groggy. Pleasant dreams.

We hear God yawning. Mendel starts pacing again.

MENDEL

Woke up too early? How can this be? Last night was no different from any other night: I arrived home, said a prayer, washed up, made a blessing, sat down, begged for forgiveness, turned around, said I'm sorry, had my supper, then beat my breast…. Afterward, I read the Bible, discussed it at length with my wise son, was hit across the mouth with it by my wicked son, then fed it to my simple son. Then my wife and I sang, we danced, we cleaned the ram, we said our prayers, we spun the dreidel, we celebrated the harvest, we knew each other in a biblical sense, then we went to bed.

Mendel looks to heaven.

MENDEL
(cont'd)

No, dear God. I got my basic eight hours of sleep…. God? God?

GOD

(feigning weariness)

Yes, Mendel.

MENDEL

I figured out that I woke up the same time I usually do.

GOD

(disappointed)

Oh, you did.

MENDEL

Yes. And if you'll pardon my skepticism, dear Lord, I can't help but think that you are keeping something from me.

GOD

Me?

Mendel nods.

GOD
(cont'd)

Well, if I should tell you the truth, do you promise not to get a swelled head? Because you've been given an honor.

MENDEL

Me?

GOD

Yes.

MENDEL

Do tell.

GOD

No, I better not.

MENDEL

I beg of you. I can use a lift.

GOD

Well, the reason it is dark is because there's an eclipse.

MENDEL

A what?

GOD

A culinary eclipse. Once every five hundred years I align the Earth between the sun and a caterer—plunging the planet into temporary darkness. Congratulations.

MENDEL

Wait a second…

GOD

But let's keep this between us, okay? You can imagine how hectic my life would get if every caterer started asking for his own eclipse.

MENDEL

You're lying, aren't you?

GOD

A liar? The Almighty you call a liar?

MENDEL

I'm not saying that lying is a prominent trait of yours.

GOD

But you just…

MENDEL

What I meant, dear God, was that in this particular instance I solemnly believe that you are divinely yanking my proverbial chain. Is this so?

GOD

I'll be right back.

EXT. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD—DAY

         

A very tan Joshua is on the battlefield.

GOD

Joshua…Joshua.

JOSHUA

Who may I say is calling?

GOD

Don't get cute.

JOSHUA

Oh, hi. Some war, huh?

GOD

So you've won?

JOSHUA

Hey, these things take time. But we'll be all right. Those Amorites are dropping like flies.

GOD

I need the sun.

JOSHUA

When?

GOD

Now.

JOSHUA

Come again?

GOD

Or as soon as possible, anyway.

JOSHUA

(aside)

Great guy…

GOD

Excuse me?

JOSHUA

Here I am risking my life for you, all I ask for is one favor, and you…

GOD

For me? You're risking your life for me?

JOSHUA

No, for me…. Of course it's for you.
I
have no ax to grind with the Amorites—this is all for you.

GOD

How do you figure?

JOSHUA

These Amorites are heathens. They spend most of their time womanizing and getting drunk…

GOD

They do?

JOSHUA

…and doing whatever their animal instincts dictate.

GOD

But don't they fear my wrath?

JOSHUA

Why should they? They don't believe in you to begin with.

GOD

They don't?

JOSHUA

No.

GOD

God…

JOSHUA

What was that?

GOD

Oh, nothing—I was just talking to myself…. Look, you believe in me, don't you?

JOSHUA

No, I'm swinging spiked maces out here for my health. Stop being so insecure.

GOD

Sorry.

JOSHUA

Don't worry about it. Just let me get on with the war. What's the big rush, anyway?

GOD

Well, this whole sun thing is somewhat of an inconvenience to Mendel…

JOSHUA

The caterer?

GOD

Yeah. He's got this smorgasbord and…

JOSHUA

Spare me.

(aside)

I have an onslaught on my hands and he's talking Jell-O molds.

EXT. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD—NIGHT

         

Mendel is fanning the buffet with a small shrub.

GOD

Mendel.

MENDEL

You smell that? It's the fish.

God sniffs.

GOD

Who's this buffet for?

MENDEL

The Brillsteins. In honor of their son's confirmation.

GOD

Is that all?

MENDEL

Is that all? Their son is turning thirteen.

GOD

So, I'll make him fourteen. It'll serve the Brillsteins right for having a surname in this day and age. Feel better?

MENDEL

No.

GOD

I have an idea. What do you say I pay you for the smorgasbord? Twelve zuzim. And, I'll throw in a new tablecloth for your troubles.

MENDEL

No.

GOD

And a jug of wine.

MENDEL

No.

GOD

What're you trying to do, hold me up?

MENDEL

Dear God, I am a simple man, with simple needs. And what meager living I do manage to eke out goes only for the simple comforts of my family—so my faithful wife, Sara, can feel like a lady, and so my simple son, Shlomo, can dress in propeller skullcaps. Is this so much to ask?

GOD

No…

MENDEL

So why do you choose to keep me, you should pardon the pun, in the dark?

Mendel hangs his head in despair.

         

EXT. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD—DAY

         

The war is still raging.

GOD

Well?

JOSHUA

Won't be long now.

GOD

Can you give me a ballpark figure?

JOSHUA

What's a ballpark?

GOD

(trying to keep his composure)

Ten minutes? Fifteen minutes?

JOSHUA

Don't you have anything else to do? How come you left Moses alone? I didn't see anyone breathing down his neck.

GOD

But…

JOSHUA

Don't “but” me. You know you're wrong. You parted the sea for Moses. You gave ten plagues to Moses. You did this for Moses. You did that for Moses.

Joshua starts jumping up and down.

JOSHUA
(cont'd)

Moses! Moses! Moses! Everything went to Moses! Well, I'm sick of it!

GOD

Is it possible that you're overreacting?

JOSHUA

You gave Moses forty years to cross the Sinai. Forty years! No one told him to hurry up because of some caterer. But me…

Joshua starts crying.

         

EXT. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD—NIGHT

         

Mendel is pointing a quartz spatula toward his chest.

GOD

Mendel!

MENDEL

I've got nothing to live for.

EXT. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD—DAY

         

Joshua is on the ground flailing his arms and legs.

GOD

Josh…

JOSHUA

Leave me alone.

EXT. HEAVEN—DAY/NIGHT/WHATEVER

         

God is pacing.

GOD

Imagine me, the omnipotent one, with a moral dilemma. Hard to believe. It's mundane, yet harrowing at the same time. On the one hand, we have Joshua, who's fighting a war and risking his mortal existence so that
I
can continue to exist for all those who prostrate themselves in acknowledgment of me as thy Lord, thy God, King of the Universe. While, on the other hand, Mendel isn't even a chef. True, he does cater religious celebrations, but even if his word of mouth is good and his business does flourish, those gluttons will more likely rave about the food than about me…. But then again, why should I take this out on Mendel, who wants only to support his loving family? The devout Mendel, who reads the Bible and who believes in me. Or at least he did before all this sun business started—before I let him down.

(God slaps himself)

Stop it! This is no time for sentiment. Gotta be practical here. Even a blind man can see that your future's with Joshua. Give him the sun, he'll win the war, and your word will be passed from father to son, generation after generation. While with Mendel…who's kidding who? To hell with Mendel.

(God slaps himself)

What's wrong with me? Just what kind of deity am I turning into anyway? Didn't I make both Joshua and Mendel in my own image? Do they not both serve me in their own way? Of course they do.

EXT. THE DARK SIDE OF THE WORLD—NIGHT

         

Mendel is perched on the buffet table, readying to hurl his body onto the stone utensils that are pointing upward from the ground.

GOD

Mendel, don't!

MENDEL

And tell me why I shouldn't. My business is ruined and the God that I've devoted my spiritual life to has forsaken me. Thanks for nothing.

Mendel jumps off the table.

GOD

Mendel, stop!

And, as the Lord speaks, the leaping Mendel freezes, rendering him suspended in midair.

MENDEL

(looking around)

What's this?

GOD

Look, I've been doing some thinking, and I think I've come up with a solution to all of this.

MENDEL

I'm all ears.

GOD

You want to hear it?

MENDEL

I'm suspended in midair. What else have I got to do, plow?

GOD

Okay. Now, I've figured out a compromise. Joshua gets to keep the sun for as long as he needs it…

MENDEL