I had suspected it for a long time, but it was yesterday when I finally was sure. I was on the bus heading downtown. The days I don’t work in the morning I like to go to the market. I buy fresh fish and organic chicken, which are the basis of my diet. I take my shopping cart with me, because with my Olive Oyl-like, twiglike arms and my incipient osteopenia I should not lift too much weight. It is a long way from home, but time just flies by because I love pondering and observing through the bus window. I love to remain silent until I get off the bus. I had no sooner taken a vacant seat when a wobbly, decrepit old man, walking unsteadily with a cane, took the seat by my side. I can’t bear to have someone so close to me, let alone a whining nonagenarian, the one who is always muttering weepy litanies (you know I hate both old things and old people. However, it is also true that I strongly dislike children as well, although they are new, because they are always making noise and are a nuisance.
I turned to the window, using my body language to give him a hint that he would do well to forget me, but I was already doomed. The moaner launched into his talk on his debilitating ailments, incurable diseases and distressing discomfort. Tutankhamun’s mummy is in better shape than that guy. Then an idea struck me. I took a five-euro bill from my purse and dropped it at the old geezer’s feet, on the sly. Just the instant when the bill landed on the floor a miracle happened. The fossil leapt out of his seat, stepping over my shopping cart that blocked his path, kicked his own cane with this maneuver, grabbed the bill like an Olympic athlete and put it in his pocket as fast as a well-trained shell game cheater.
I MYSELF HAD HEALED HIM! That quasi-corpse, that human waste, had recovered in one second the faculties of a young lad. Senile macular degeneration, profound hearing loss, high-pitched wheezing, joint arthrosis, Parkinson’s tremors and fecal incontinence vanished as if by magic. All gone in a jiffy. I left him smiling, standing there, completely cured of his ailments, when I got off at my bus stop. An extra five-euro bill stuck out of the pocket of his guayabera. Then I knew how Jesus had brought Lazarus of Bethany back to life. HE PUT A LARGE SACK OF DENARIUS ON HIS SHROUD! I don’t know how many, but I suppose they were a lot, as Resurrection is clearly a non plus ultra thing. But it is even more difficult to resurrect somebody making him look younger and more handsome than before (it definitely demands more dough), although we don’t have any historical evidence that Lazarus walked out of the tomb turned into an Adonis. Either Jesus didn’t want to overdo it, so He probably stopped when Lazarus got up, not including the improvements, or He was broke and could not throw more denarius on Lazarus’ shroud.
You know, my dear readers: there is no better Balm of Fierabras than a good fiver. It performs wonders.