Posted: Sun Nov 4 2001
An Interview With Job

- by Ezekiel, roving reporter

I met the most inexplicable old man the other day as I was wondering around. Like so many other homeless and hapless people, he was sitting just off the street, warming himself by a small fire.

Going only by "Job" (pronounced jobe), he begged for company, so I obliged, taking care not to get too close, just in case those oozing pustules were contagious. He told me his whole life story, and I'd like to share part of it with you.

E: Have you been here long?

Job: Man, it seems like an eternity.

E: Have you always been like this?

Job: No, man, I used to be really popular. I had friends coming over all the time, asking my advice and stuff like that.

E: How did you end up like this?

Job: Well, see, I've sort of had a run of bad luck. And I think I had some bad weed, too. First, it was the oxen and asses getting stolen, then the lightening got the sheep and shepherds, then those damn Chaldeans showed up. It kind of all snowballed. It's hard not to take it personally.

E: Do you have any family?

Job: Well, I do and I don't. You see, they used to stick by me, bringing me food when I was paralyzed and all. Then, the money started running low. But we were still up about everything. We'd even come up with a plan. See, as each day passed, I was getting new symptoms and spots, and people used to come by to see it all. My family, they was going to start charging admission so we could make ends meet. But then, one day, they just all went away. I ain't seen any of 'em in a long time.

E: I see.

Job: Hey, man! Where you going? Come on back, we'll have fun, I promise… Man, I hope things look up soon. This is depressing.