My Short-Short Story Sunday 1

[Riversboy]

PURPOSE IN HYSTERIA

By Riversboy


Ahmed decided the nose needed to be pointier. He picked up one of the enlarged photographs, studying the man’s profile. Definitely. Stepping away from the table, he walked over to the lifesize doll in the corner, holding up the photograph next to its detailed face. Most definitely. He needed to make the nose pointier. That would not be difficult. A little paper mache was all it took. Ahmed was glad to have gotten this over with. The first one was always the most difficult, he found. A new face took practice to master. He had to learn the nuances of its features: the droop of the eyes; the curve of the nose; the standard expression. Now that he had made all his mistakes with the prototype, he was sure he would knock out the subsequent copies in half the time.

A knock on his door interrupted him mid repair, a cake of flesh tone paper mache in his cupped fingers. Swearing under his breath, he jettisoned the mush back into a pot, and stomped to the door. On the other side, as he found out upon opening it, were four middle aged men. One’s fat, bearded face grinned at him from above a grey French suit that strained to stay buttoned. He was flanked by two lanky fellows in olive green paramilitary uniforms. At the head of the delegation was the oldest of the men. His turban, neatly trimmed beard and flowing black and brown robe announced his profession.

“A salaam aleikum,” the imam pronounced with a controlled nod and a miniature smile.

“M’aleikum salaam. Welcome to my shop. Please come in.” All five men walked into the studio, which suddenly seemed a lot smaller to Ahmed. He bade the imam to sit while he retrieved his order. The cleric sent the two paras to help Ahmed, and the three men entered the small storage room in the back. When Ahmed came back out, carrying an effigy in his craftsman’s hands, the imam was staring at his latest work. He turned to Ahmed, with a wide grin on his face.

“Secretary Roberts?” he inquired.

“You see the likeness? That is a relief.” Ahmed smiled back.

“It is almost exact. He was only just appointed. Has one of my colleagues already condemned him?”

“No sir, but I find it best to stock supply before there is a demand.”

“Very wise. Still, it must be good for your business, the changes in government.”

“Allah be praised.” That was Ahmed’s way of making “no” sound like “yes”. He wasn’t one to complain, especially not to the imam. The truth was the sudden resignation of Roberts’ successor had left Ahmed with a dozen obsolete effigies. Nobody wanted to demonstrate against a private citizen. Ahmed’s business was a tightrope walk. If he waited for orders to make effigies, he would not finish them in time. Demonstration planners didn’t have time to wait around for effigy-makers. They would just move on to the next guy, or at the worst, burn a few enlarged photos. On the other hand, if he made the effigies before they were ordered, he ran the risk of never selling them. Anything could happen. Israel could give up some more land, and appease the radicals for a month or so. America might buy more oil from his country, making the government crack down on demonstrators. Or maybe some American secretary of state might get wrapped up in a sex scandal and be forced to resign just one month before a scheduled visit to Israel. A visit that would have sparked at the very least four riots. Anyway, Ahmed thought, Allah be praised. It wasn’t all bad. At least there still wasn’t Peace in the Middle East.

“Would you like to purchase lighter fluid, sir?”

“What for?”

“For burning the effigy.”

“No need.” It was the man in the French suit who answered. After placing a few notes on the table, he walked over to Ahmed and took the doll from him. “We’re hanging them, not burning them.”

“Surely, hanging isn’t as dramatic, doctor.” Ahmed’s voice raised a tad. “It doesn’t make as much as an impression on American television.”

“Ahmed, you crafty dog,” the doctor laughed. “Hanging means we don’t have to keep buying these damn things! Good for us, bad for you.” He shook his head as he left the studio, still laughing. The two paras followed. Ahmed cautioned them that the heads were fragile.

“Allah will reward you,” the imam said before he rose to leave.

“I don’t suppose you want to buy nooses?” Without responding, the departed imam shut the door behind him. Ahmed shrugged. That was the way things had been going of late. These clerics were putting money before jihad. A sad state. He thought back to when he was a boy, and he would watch his grandfather at work. They had a bigger studio then. Back then, the Caliph was on the throne. The imams and mullahs and ayatollahs were falling over themselves to impress him. Money was no object. They commissioned larger-than-life models of Israeli prime ministers and generals. Popes were always a great target too. After processions through the streets amid songs and slogans, they would douse the effigies with unbelievable amounts of gasoline. The infernos would illuminate the desert night. Deaths were common, but the dead were considered martyrs. Or so they said. It made sense to Ahmed. What could be more jihad than ridiculing the enemies of Allah and then setting them on fire? Now they didn’t even want to buy four effigies a month! Pathetic.

Ahmed returned to his work. He scooped a little paper mache and began to apply it to the nose. As he gently shaped the protrusion, he noticed an uneven patch on the doll’s neck. He hadn’t quite mastered the new necks either. Although, the ones the imam just took away would prove whether the new design worked the way it should. If the cheapskates wanted hangings, he would give them hangings, complete with broken necks. Of course, if the paper mache broke along with the neck’s frame, decapitating the effigy, that would not be his fault. And if the oh-so-fragile head happened to fall to the not-so-yielding arab street, that would be but an occupational hazard of hanging an effigy, not a fault of the maker, who had specifically recommended that the effigy be used only once, for a burning.

THE END

[sapphire]

this is actually pretty good

fuckin wow!