“Everybody form a line! Everybody will get a turn with the Rabbi,” cried the disciple Thaddeus.

 

But the people heeded him not, and all clustered round the Rabbi, refusing all entreaties to form an orderly queue. They clamored to be next and made loud noises.

 

“I said,” cried Thaddeus thoroughly indignant, “form a frickin’ line! Can’t you people listen?! I swear to God!”

 

Meanwhile, the Rabbi was talking softly with a person before the laying on of hands and the solemn, healing moment, and above the murmurs of the crowd, a cougher coughed, loudly expectorating. Cough, cough, cough. Gross!

 

The Rabbi looked over to see who was coughing, but then the cougher fell silent, so the Rabbi returned his attention to the person at hand. Just as he was about to continue his ministrations, the cougher coughed again, wretchedly retching. Cough, cough, cough, cough, spit. Again the Rabbi was distracted by the cougher. Ahem. Silence again reigned. And Jesus returned to his ministrations, again. Not more than five seconds later the cougher coughed again, this time more wretchedly than before and more prolonged than before. Cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, spit, sputum, cough, retch, cough, sigh, cough. Cough. Ahem. Double gross!!

 

The Rabbi’s concentration was lost and admitting defeat he called aloud, “Would the cougher like to come forward now, please.”

 

An old crone came limping, coughing and sputtering forward, and scolded the Rabbi saying, “I ain‘t no ‘cougher’! I’m a lady with a cough. There’s a difference, you know.” Cough, cough, cough, etc. This woman was short and stooped. A wart grew out of the end of her nose and long hairs grew out of her chin. She was the second cousin of a rotten old potato.

 

“My bad,” said the Son of Man.

 

 And he was just about to lay hands on her head when the cougher, I mean the lady with the cough, fell into another fit of coughing, so long and so sustained, spraying this way and that, cough, cough, that the Rabbi recoiled from her. But he was too slow and a generous gob of spit and mucous caught the Rabbi on the left hand. He looked at the mucous projectile that landed on his hand; then he looked about him for a wipe and seeing none, wiped the sprayed sputum at the hem of his garment.

 

The crone smiled and tilted her head in apology and said, “Sorry. Couldn’t help meself.” Jesus quickly took advantage of the moment, laid hands on her head, healed her, just as she drew a deep breath prior to coughing up another lung, but alas, none was forthcoming. Healed, just like that. (Finger snap.)

 

And Thaddeus, the traffic cop, doorman and bouncer, tried to hustle her along for many people had come to be healed, but she protested saying, “I come about me leg. The cough I coulda lived with.”

 

“Well, what’s wrong with your leg, then?” asked Thaddeus.

 

“I’m not tellin’ you! What, think you’re a specialist? I come about something else, too,” said the crone.

 

“Just trying to be helpful,” muttered Thaddeus.

 

“Well, why don’t you try shutting up? That would be helpful,” wheezed the lady with a former cough.

 

And turning to Jesus she asked in a coy voice, “Can you make me pretty?”

 

“That would truly be a public service, if you can manage it, my Lord,” said Thaddeus sideways.

 

“I told you to shut up, if you please,” said the crone rounding on her antagonist.

 

“Maybe she don’t need that voice o’ hers, too?” said Thaddeus to Jesus.

 

The old woman swung her cane at Thaddeus, but deftly ducking, he avoided the blow.

 

Jesus, the healing rabbi, turned to the woman and said, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder…”

 

The old woman cut in on him and said, “But nobody be holdin’ me on a cold night! Old broads want love too, ya know.” And she shook her cane at Jesus to emphasize her earnestness.

 

Jesus, trying to keep things on a professional level, said, “Dear Woman, I don’t perform what may be termed as ‘elective’ procedures.”

 

And the old crone reached out with her cane and smartly rapped Jesus across the knuckles.

 

“You holy men are all alike. You don’t understand a bit about a person’s life. You give what you think we want, not what we really want!” ranted the old woman.

 

And as she limped off, she fake-coughed to draw one last look from the healing Rabbi and his disciple Thaddeus.