A Miracle Off Broadway©
The otherday I called on a friend of mine at his office on the 32nd street, Mañana Ave., off Broadway. Applebaum worked for Paranormal Absurdities Inc., Knowing how keen he was to expose every fraud that went under psychic phenomena I had to be wary notwithstanding our 20 years of friendship. He was a dragracer and one who tinkered with anything that came with wheels. After exchanging pleasantries I paused unable to find an opening line. Noting my fumbling he asked me to shoot. Well it was a clear and succinct invitation. So I took my .45 magnum and shot. The bullet went right through his shirt and hit the rubber plant in the corner of his cabin.
“What was that?’ Applebaum sat up suddenly and wrinkled his nose. “ Sounds like a gunreport.” He said. Seeing me grin widely he sat up on his swivel chair and said,” What is the matter with you?” You look weird!” I explained triumphantly,”I just shot at you. You survived. If you can prove this isn’t a miracle I shall believe you are holding a proper job and not wasting your talents in some fraudulent set up.” My friend guffawed. “You are on. I can smell a fraud miles away!” He took the gun from me and checked to say,” One bullet less here. His eyes narrowed and looked at me suspiciously,” So you did shoot at me?”
“Then it is a miracle?”
“ No. Don’t be in a hurry.” He levelled the gun and aimed at the cabin of his boss where his name Henry Winkleman was neatly written on the frosted glass.
Bam! The gun went off and the glass shattered in zillion splinters. The man came out and checked the damage to his cabin. It was sign for the personnel to converge around their boss. They all were in a shock. Mr. Winkleman came in quick steps followed by the staff. He stood before my friend red in the face and cursing him he wanted an explanation. My friend said,
” This guy here a nut case. I happen to know him from school. He came here with a cock and bull story of a miracle. I had to prove him wrong.” The boss took the gun and checked “A real McCoy, obviously.” Before I could reply he added in irritation,” Must you waste time, Mr. Applebaum with every nut who comes to you with a miracle?”
As my friend floundered I found my voice.” Miracle wasn’t in the gun sir. I have miraculous powers.That is all.” While I said my piece I had deftly extricated a manila envelope with the Army seal. I said, “ As you can see I would have enlisted but because of my powers I was exempted.”
It was true a gun was a toy in my hands.” If you don’t believe I can prove with AK-47. Or Kalashnikov?”
Applebaum looked at me as if I had gone off the rocker. His boss with his rat like face looked at me. “I suspect fraud here sir. Would you mind if we put you to a series,- non-invasive tests? ’ Before leaving the office I had to surrender the gun for close examination. I agreed and went to the lab specified by the company. For three days I was probed, swabbed and pinched by a few nurses and I had all my extremities connected to a number of panels where I could see needles recording everything that was to be known of me. For a good measure I underwent psychological tests and what not. Applebaum was there to keep me company. A fortnight later I received an envelope, which was stamped: PERSONAL. Beneath in red, For your eyes only
I scanned hastily the report. It read.” “The patient under reference is non-existent. There was an annexure that had a heading GUN REPORT
Only one line was neatly typed: The gun with serial number X@-A-23674: real.
Since then Mr.Applebaum refused to take or return my calls.