stereotypes, passive microaggressions, extreme
violence, raisins, and nuts.
“First we take the Ukraine . . . then we take Taiwan.” ~ Neo Babylon
As punishment for my crime of celestial lust a life sentence aboard a Jerusalem shuttle bus all covered in desert dust and full of Chinese tourists having just escaped the fall of Paris all wearing long lens cameras around their necks and surgical grade face masks With me forced to view and then compliment their digital photographs All street scenes and military instillations But that’s crime and punishment aboard a Jerusalem shuttle bus
Was it just a dream? Landing at Ben Gurion Airport overflowing with arrivals Armed guards watching every step Banners hanging from the rooftops announcing the grand opening of the Third Temple Then floating out the terminal upon a flowing river of humanity many of whom in religious regalia so I didn’t think it unusual that a man dressed as a crusader approached me with a sign FOLLOW ME ● I’M YOU DRIVER As he led me to the shuttle bus I commented that everyone seems to be taking this Temple business grand opening every serious The driver agreed with a laugh but added … “You dont know the half of it.” He then looked me in the eye … “Verily, I am a Knight Templar. Our holy order recommissioned by Pope Leo XV ~ The Grand Unifyer for just this hour.” My curt reply … “So, Catholic then?” His strident response … “You’re forgeting, my friend, Christendom is being reunified under the one glorious Universal State Religion. By force if required, so it can overcome the Infidel assault.”
All I could think to say … “Obviously you’re a fanatic battle renactment role-player, but tell me how the hell did you get that broadsword past the metal detector? It looks heavy. And are you really my shuttle bus service driver?”
Without a word spoken despite the airport cacophony I could hear clearly . . . “The enemy’s power is broken. The battle to come is already won. In Christ’s mighty name proclaim the final victory.”
By the banks of the Dead Sea where the waters have turned to rust I offered up my dry bones for the bedouins to make into souvenirs as due reparation for the sins of my forefathers and my own misdemeanours Those Seven Sisters of Petroleum and their ravenous exploitation not to mention the British East India Company getting the Chinese peasantry addicted to opium Revenge is a cold serving of methamphetamine courtesy of Beijing mainlined into the collapsing vein of Western civilisation
I finally asked the driver where on Earth was he taking us and to which terminus? He just pointed to the horizon saying … “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. But in the meantime we’ll just do a quick detour to Mount Megiddo. Very scenic this time of year, so the tourists can take some pics. But keep your wits about you and an eye out the window for infidel marauders as we go.”
My fellow passengers apart from the Slavic contingent aboard the shuttle bus began quietly chanting in unison …
“We are humble tourists. We are not foreign agents. We are humble tourists. We are not foreign agents.”
The first words I’d heard from them not spoken in MandarinFrom the three Russians occupying the back seats a sudden outbreak of hysterical laughter whilst sharing a bottle or two of Stoli vodka One of them yelled out … “The Bedouins are too busy constructing football stadiums and drinking Starbucks coffee to bother with your rotten Anglo-Saxon remains!”
Doing my very best Robert De Niro impression I calmly replied … “Are you talking to me ?! I’m no rotten Sassenach! I’m a true blue Caledonian. And which Siberian gulag did you escape from, Ivan?”
This bellicose Russian perched by the exit door then got out of his seat a Makarov pistol in his hand ready to sneakily launch a special military operation in my direction but instead fell to the floor instantly dead A feathered bolt embedded in the back of his head During the commotion the driver had pulled over retrieving the crossbow hidden below his seat The Chinese tourists now silenced in shock and consternation The two remaining Russians whispering surreptitiously taking stock of the situation as I thought to myself God only knows what’s going to happen next?
Artwork; courtesy of Michael Lewis © 2026
Photography;
Stefan I. Redpath © 2026
