Flower delivery in Iran



  Write for The Iranian
Editorial policy

How much are you gonna pay me to join your religion?

June 20, 2001
The Iranian

It's Saturday morning. I have successfully ended a long week without getting in trouble. I have managed to keep my job, no traffic tickets, no bar fights, no arguments with the opposite sex, the parole officer has been happy with my progress in so-called, "easing back into society", the voices in my head have stopped talking to me, sleeping pills are working great, and I love the new tattoo I just got. I can surely say, it's been a good week.

It's only ten o'clock in the morning. I grab an ice-cold bottle of beer and light up a non-filtered Camel cigarette. It's my belief that one should start the day with a nutritious and hardy breakfast. I turn on the TV and flip channels; nothing catches my attention. I turn on the computer and start surfing the net for anything engaging.

The princess overdosed on sleeping pills. Some dude from Isfahan sending emails asking for donations so he can get married (old scam). Some Iranian chick is pissed off of chauvinist Iranian men and their moms. Some dude is upset because the Shah's picture was displayed on a website. It goes on and on.

I get up for another bottle of beer. I hear a knock on my door, which is very unusual, since I hardly ever have any visitors. I opene the door hesitantly and find myself facing two young lads -- sixteen or seventeen at most. Clean cut with white dress-shirts, black ties and black shinny shoes. Each holding a thick black book in his hand.

"Good morning sir. My name is Joe and this is Jack. We are missionaries with the church of..... We were wondering if we could have a minute of your time."

"Are you guys selling Bibles?" I asked.

"No sir, we are selling salvation, forgiveness, and love of God."

Great. Just when I thought I was having a good week, two walking pimples selling salvation are here to harass me. I was ready to slam the door on their faces but a moment of inspiration came over me. I had nothing to do, no plans whatsoever. So I figured, lets' have some fun with these kids. Let's see what they are made of. The poor soles were unaware that the greatest scam artist of all time is standing in front of them. I almost felt sorry for them.

"Sure, come on in fellows. Can I get you a beer, marijuana, women?... Just kidding."

"Sir, our mission is to bring God to your life. The Lord brings happiness, fulfillment, calmness, greatness, and love to your world. He opens doors that have previously been slammed shut. The Lord will free you from your pains and sorrows. We have so much to offer you. The Lord will not judge you and loves you regardless of who you are."

"How much?" I replied.

The kid looked puzzled for a second. He shifted his weight around hesitantly and said, "Excuse me?"

"How much are you gonna pay me to join your religion?"

Both kids looked perplexed. "Sir, we don't pay people for joining us."

"Alright guys-let's cut the bullshit. If I convert to your religion, you guys are gonna be heroes in your local church. Everybody will talk about you. You guys bring in this bad tempered punk ex-convict to your church and make a believer out of him -- imagine the headlines. I'm a hot commodity. Every church out there is after me. They all want to convert a bad guy like me. You guys are gonna be stars. They will definitely send you on a vacation and pay for your education. So how much toconvert me?"

"Sir, we can't do that."

"Why not? Okay, how much do you guys have in your pockets? Better yet, how much allowance do you get from your parents? I will take half of your allowance plus you guys will buy me beers, cigarettes and take me around like my personal drivers."

"But sir, we are underage and don't have cars. We have bicycles. Besides, if our parents find out that we are giving you our allowance, they will kill us."

"Guys, you should realize that nothing in this world is free. You want people to convert; you have to be flexible. I tell you what, you guys finance my frequent visits to the nudie bar, or better yet, you pay for a year's subscription to Penthouse and I will think about converting."

I saw the kids whispering in each other's ears. They looked uncomfortable and agitated.

"Sir, in our church, we teach camaraderie and teamwork. We teach the values of achieving through working together."

"Hay man, I'm all about that. You want teamwork and camaraderie? I tell you what. How about you two and I take your bicycles, I'll sit on the handle bar, and go down to the local convenient store. We rob the place and beat the heck out of the clerk. Then we come back here and get drunk. How's that for teamwork?"

The two kids jumped out of their chairs and ran for the door. I yelled, "Come on dudes. Have a little fun. Come back next Saturday. Let's explore our options a little more."

The poor paddled their bicycles like their life depended on it.

Comment for The Iranian letters section
Comment to the writer Siamack Baniameri

Flower delivery in Iran


Siamack Baniameri's features index


Features archive

* Latest

* Cover stories

* Feature writers

* Arts & literature

* Opinion

* Satire

* History

* Interviews

* Travel

* Women

* Rights

* Surveys

* All sections

Flower delivery in Iran
Copyright © Iranian.com All Rights Reserved. Legal Terms for more information contact: times@iranian.com
Web design by BTC Consultants
Internet server: Global Publishing Group