About a week ago, I was in New York City hailing a taxicab for the airport. I noticed a particular gentleman, appearing to be of Arab decent, pull aside just in front of me in a cab and begin to wave his arms frantically. I hesitantly approached him in bewilderment. As I neared the window, it became rather evident that his flapping arms were not on my behalf, but rather an attempt to waft several toxic, deep seeded gas passages from the interior of his taxicab.
“Move away… air dangerous,” The man yelled, quickly exiting the vehicle and running for cover under a Wiener Schnitzel stand near by, leaving his door wide open and windows ajar.
Lighting a cigar and taking a couple concentrated drags, he tilted his head back, blew out a ring of smoke, and snapped his head back towards my direction. “Gas deadly. Just ate bean. Taco bean. Incomparable damage. My name is Laloo Prasa Yadividoo. I am Sikh Indian, here nine days since last bathe. Need you go somewhere?”
Taking a moment to digest what it was I had just witnessed, I glanced towards my watch in one last moment of desperation.
“Can you take me to the airport?”
Many hand wafts and three King air fresheners later we were on the way. Pulling out into oncoming traffic, Laloo looks back at me through his rear view mirror with a smile, “I (sick) Sikh… Sikh… Sikh.” I smiled back and nodded in agreement.
“I know. Do we need to stop by a restroom or something?”
“No sick tummy… Sikh Indian. No afraid, me been to airport many time without…” Puffing his cheeks and bulging his eyes, “BOOM!” Smiling again, he looks back into the rear view mirror and winked, “Terrorist bad, Sikh Indian good.”
“What brings you here to New York, Mr. Sikh.” I asked curiously.
“Computer job, fired yesterday.” He remarked sadly, while making a left turn in front of an oncoming truck.
“What were you fired for?”
“Dun know…” he remarked confusedly as he swung around the seat facing me. “ I toll lady fix computer, erase all file… you no understand file… erase it… I Sikh… Sikh Indian. Here eight days since last bathe… I go now. Erase file. Just ate bean. Gas deadly. Incomparable damage.”
He looked towards the road for a split second after sideswiping the grocery cart of a homeless woman crossing the street, turning back around to continue his story. “Later, man visit me at toilet. Claim he fired me. He yell at me. Another man hand me key. He say drive cab, you drive cab. No more computer for you, jus’ cab…”
Laloo then became very silent, grimacing in horror, as from under his seat rumbled what can only be described as the sight and sound of a 69′ Volkswagen starting up on a cold winter’s morning. That is, a worn VW Bus revved at full throttle until two cylinders pop, echoing a high pitched whine which would eventually fade into a deafening explosion of green metallic cloud.
Laloo screeched the breaks, stopped in mid traffic, and began to run from the cab.
“Gas deadly… I am Sikh.” Laloo was instantly knocked down upon the ground by an on-foot police officer as people began to pour from their cars and take to the streets running frantically. The radio was blaring an emergency broadcast signal warning all citizens of a gas bomb deployed in downtown New York City by a “sick” Muslim terrorist.
I stepped out the cab and slowly proceeded through the empty streets towards the airport. On my way, I couldn’t help but hear Laloo’s screams of defiance.
“No terrorist! Me Sikh… Sikh Indian, eat bean nine days since last bathe!”
THE END
(Story originally appeared in The Circle)