"Why do you feign tears when it is so brutally apparent that you are a valiant man of God?"
He quickly replied, frantically waving his handkerchief, "I am not a man of God; I renounce him! This sidearm is a ruse, and I've been brutal to no one but myself. It is true that my eyes do not produce tears, but I assure you, my face needed wiping, and I am very afraid."
Before I offered my reply, I glanced at the line of prospective cowards, which stretched down the hall, and around the corner. After making a brief notation in my journal, I returned to the hero.
"If I were to bring forth, at this moment, the holy book of God, would you spit upon it, and curse his name?"
"I would most certainly...yes, sir, I believe I would. But, I must confess, as I sit before you now, I am struggling with the urge to retreat. My palms are sweaty; my pulse is racing; my mouth has gone dry. Yes, it's just that it's becoming so difficult to speak. You absolutely must sense my fear!"
I did not, and I asked the audacious liar to leave, at which point he stood, produced his sidearm, placed the barrel flush against his temple, and pulled the trigger, splattering the contents of his skull all over my ceiling, wall and floor, and onto his pristine handkerchief. And, as his courageous body slumped to the floor, his religion revealed itself in gold, appearing triumphant from beneath the collar of his blood-stained shirt.
"Next."
❋ ❋ ❋ ❋ ❋
"Well, that depends on a good many things. But first, I must ask, how have you managed to acquire the property of this fallen soldier? Was he a relative?"
"This man was no relation to me, nor was he a friend, truth be told. He was simply a hero, an anonymous hero, who happened to fall before me, when last I ventured to the front line."
"So you, yourself, are a soldier?"
"Well, I've certainly fought some great battles, but no, I've never donned the uniform."
"Ah, I see. I don't believe I can offer you anything for this pendant, sir, as I am beginning to suspect you might have acquired it by dubious action."
"You don't mean to imply that I had something to do with the man's end, do you? Because, I assure you, he did not die by my hand. No, quite the contrary: His was an honorable, even heroic death. Unfortunately, however, he died without providing any identification, and I have, quite simply, been charged with the liquidation of his few assets."
"Regardless, I find the whole matter rather distasteful, and I am going to have to ask you to leave. Good day, sir."
"I understand. What good a tarnished old crucifix anyway, right?"
"Indeed."
"Then I'll be on my way. But first, would you have no interest in this revolver; our courageous soldier's trusty sidearm?"
"Well, now that's another matter. I apologize, sir, for my hasty dismissal of your previous offering. Please, let's talk."
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