P.A.: Once I went to the Farmers’ Market and I bought one of those huge bags of oranges from this random Christian fundamentalist guy, who was just sitting there, reading his Bible, selling oranges. Anyway, I got them home and they were so good that I ate like ten in a row and only stopped because I realized I probably should. And he’s never been back since, so I have a theory that maybe he was Jesus, and he just came into some oranges.
Me: You really think Jesus would sit there reading His own book? That’s kind of tacky, don’t you think?
P.A.: Yeah, can you picture it? Sitting there, trying to look extra-Jesus-like, going, "Man, THIS guy’s really got a point."
Sad thing is, I used to *do* that when I saw people reading the L on the subway. I’d just sit there trying to look extra me-ish hoping someone would accidentally turn to the back of the magazine and then accidentally look up. The only time anyone ever did recognize me was once at one of those overpriced yuppie chopped salad places in NY where my credit card got declined (for a $10 purchase) and then I got food poisoning.
PS is that how you spell "apocryphal"? If only a mysterious orange vendor could explain it to me. Man, I could use about ten oranges right now myself.