Just a Normal Guy from Tel Aviv

I was introduced the other day to a friend of a friend . . . a young Israeli; 'Just a normal guy from Tel Aviv -Sin City.'
His friend has been spending Shabbos on this side of town for the past few years, coming ever closer .
But this young Israeli considers himself nothing special, more bad then good.
He said he had wanted to come sooner, but he had been stuck back at home, fighting in Lebanon.
Chromatic sunglasses perched coolly upon his short hair, he looked on with interest -taking in the conversation, only interjecting his thoughts from time to time.
"You know," he said, "I was on the bus once with a friend . . . I noticed an Arab in a coat that was too warm for a summer day . . . So I walked over to him and asked him to show me his papers.
He reached into his coat, and I noticed wires. I took out my gun and held it to his head.
'Take your hand out slowly from your pocket!'
I told him, instead he reached deeper in . . .
I shot him, and then called for technicians to remove the bomb from his body."

Just a normal guy from Tel Aviv.



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