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Tambourines clanged and drums kept time as voices from a choir lifted up from the stage. Through the blistering heat, hundreds of people descended on Wilmington, Delaware to experience the Big August Quarterly. Song and praise dance took the center stage, but what also shown in the spotlight remained the delectable victuals prepared by church mothers, sisters, and brothers.
Incognito, Mohammad donned aviator lenses and a slouch beanie with Bermuda shorts and a white dress shirt. He completed the ensemble with a pair of Crocs. He stood in line for what seemed like centuries until he came to the table where a gigantic display of bacon-wrapped pork chops, still on the bone, lay before his eyes. He was like a pig that just discovered a truffle—except that he now found what could’ve been the finder of that delicacy. He put one of the chops on his plate and paid for the meal. While the gospel music reverberated, praising the name of Jesus of Nazareth, Mohammad bopped his head to the beat. He searched for a place to sit down and eat.
“Why don’t you sit over here, man?” a gentleman named Gordon Trimble in his 70s invited Mohammad. The prophet didn’t say a thing. He just motioned as if he understood. He plopped down on the bench and beheld the contents of his plate, a quick pang of knowing that ingesting this meal would be tantamount to not fasting during Ramadan. More groups went up and delivered soul-stirring songs regarding the sacrifice and salvation that Jesus allegedly provided to the saved and sanctified. Mohammad looked around and took in the music.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Trimble asked.
Mohammad just nodded his head yes and lifted his pork chop into the air.
“They’ve got fork and knives for that, you know,” Trimble said.
Mohammad paid the elderly man no mind. He grasped the piece of flesh into his hands and took a bite. Mohammad’s eyes nearly leapt out of his face. It was that good. In fact, it was so delicious that he had to keep eating and eating all the way until he reached the bone. And he ate that, too—or at least, he tried to eat it. He began to cough. The bone had struck his throat. Blood ran from his mouth to his cheek.
“Whoa, now!” Trimble said. “We’ve got to get a medic over here.”
By now, a crowd of people had surrounded the body of Mohammad. Soon paramedics came to the rescue of the dying prophet. An EMT named Erica Haskins rushed over to the man as a profuse amount of blood oozed out from his mouth. When Erica had removed the glasses and seen the face as the final gasps of air exited Mohammad’s body, she backed off and away from him.
“This is the Prophet Mohammad,” Erica said.
A few “Oh, my Lord” and “Help me Jesus” phrases arose from the crowd.
Erica stood with her arms crossed. “I refuse to save his life.”
“But you have to do it, we have to love our enemies,” Travis Cave said.
“That may be a belief that you and many of the people here hold, but I don't. I am a selfish atheist and I will not allow myself to save the life of a scoundrel and a malicious non-entity.”
The predominantly Christian gathering shook their heads, but one individual stood up and championed Erica’s words.
“That’s right, the war of Christians against Muslims has been fought far too long over these past centuries. That is why atheism is the only route to go to if we are to fight for reason,” a young man named Waddell Holmes said.
Mohammad reached out his arm, made a fist, and it slowly went southward as the final gasp issued from his body.
“God will fix it,” Mabel Ganner said.
“Jesus will help him,” Dax Covey said.
“No. Only the conviction that there is no supernatural force outside of reality can be used to understand what has taken place here,” Holmes said.
“Amen,” said Erica.