Convert? But you won’t — and neither will you Misters Mada, Gelt, and Hamm, I’ve told you already, I had a dream, all those angels bowing to a sunglassesed calf atop a neon ladder, with its tail a profusion of greenglitter sheaves…gevalt, you should know the procedure by now, how word gets around like a war: we accept only those whose intentions are pure; it’s a doxo-logical paradox: that I had to offer this salvation already nullifies its acceptance…you with me? Given the circumstances, how could I ever regard any atonement as sincere? I’ve got a reputation to protect. Mine, the religion’s, the race’s. Though God, Hashem, might prove better receptive; for your sake, I hope so; good luck, let me know.
As far as it’s been revealed to me (through these dreams, orders, protocol, the unappealable tie of the hands with a thread of red tape securing the strips of the Law, its mummifying parchment to gag, blindfold then Babel the ears), you’ve been found guilty of propagating a heresy, and your fate in this world, as we can only pray it’ll be in the next, is nothing — or hell, if we so believe in it; I haven’t had that dream yet…we’re still unsure.
What will you do to Him…that is, if you ever find Him — and I can be of help: I have contacts, I know people from Poles, am contractually owed, I’ll prove myself essential again, I promise, I swear, oath and affirm on my life…thrashing against the mattress above.
In light of the pain that will be His, yours will be as a pleasure…and the Rebbe rises to allow the goy his last wind, goes to the window, opens it to the alley below. He lips a wad of tabak out into sky, which is wetting with night, slicking cobbles: another day’s winter, dying like snow by the millions.
He’s only one mensch, you’ll never…
Never Schmever’s the tsk, it’ll be easier than you think: the idea’s to seek out anyone different — divine intervention, surrender, I mean…His face is known, as are His habits; it’s miraculous, a matter of fate; it’s mystical, you of all people should understand — if you intend to die peacefully, you’ll have to…
He’s why we’ve returned here to this abominable Witz. He led us here, lonely for destiny…resolution; please, it’s all too obvious not to have been preordained, prophesized already done…hesitation — we have our top menschs on it; it’s not my department.
