Lamb by Christopher Moore Read Free Book Online Page A

normally as dull as mud, shone like black jewels in the dusty desert of his face. “What’s a Cynic?”
    “A philosopher. I am a student of Diogenes. You know Diogenes?”
    “No, but how much could he have taught you? Your only friends are dogs.”
    “Diogenes went about Athens with a lamp in broad daylight, holding it in people’s faces, saying he was looking for an honest man.”
    “So, he was like the prophet of the idiots?”
    “No, no, no.” Bart picked up a small terrier and was gesturing with him to make his point. The dog seemed to enjoy it. “They were all fooled by their culture. Diogenes taught that all affectations of modern life were false, that a man must live simply, outdoors, carry nothing, make no art, no poetry, no religion…”
    “Like a dog,” I said.
    “Yes!” Bart described a flourish in the air with the rat dog. “Exactly!” The little dog made as if to upchuck from the motion. Bart put him down and he wobbled away.
    A life without worry: right then it sounded wonderful. I mean, I didn’t want to live in the dirt and have other people think me mad, like Bartholomew, but a dog’s life really didn’t sound bad. The idiot had been hiding a deep wisdom all these years.
    “I’m trying to learn to lick my own balls,” Bart said.
    Maybe not. “I have to go find Joshua.”
    “You know he is the Messiah, don’t you?”
    “Wait a minute, you’re not a Jew—I thought you didn’t believe in any religion.”
    “The dogs told me he was the Messiah. I believe them. Tell Joshua I believe them.”
    “The dogs told you?”
    “They’re Jewish dogs.”
    “Right, let me know how the ball licking works out.”
    “Shalom.”
    Who would have thought that Joshua would find his first apostle among the dirt and dogs of Nazareth. Bleh.
     
    I found Joshua at the synagogue, listening to the Pharisees lecture on the Law. I stepped through the group of boys sitting on the floor and whispered to him.
    “Bartholomew says that he knows you are the Messiah.”
    “The idiot? Did you ask him how long he’s known?”
    “He says the village dogs told him.”
    “I never thought to ask the dogs.”
    “He says that we should live simply, like dogs, carry nothing, no affectations—whatever that means.”
    “Bartholomew said that? Sounds like an Essene. He’s much smarter than he looks.”
    “He’s trying to learn to lick his own balls.”
    “I’m sure there’s something in the Law that forbids that. I’ll ask the rabbi.”
    “I’m not sure you want to bring that up to the Pharisee.”
    “Did you tell your father about the angel?”
    “No.”
    “Good. I’ve spoken to Joseph, he’s going to let me learn to be a stonecutter with you. I don’t want your father to change his mind about teaching me. I think the angel would frighten him.” Joshua looked at me for the first time, turning from the Pharisee, who droned on in Hebrew. “Have you been crying?”
    “Me? No, Bart’s stench made my eyes water.”
    Joshua put his hand on my forehead and all the sadness and trepidation seemed to drain out of me in an instant. He smiled. “Better?”
    “I’m jealous of you and Maggie.”
    “That can’t be good for your neck.”
    “What?”
    “Trying to lick your own balls. It’s got to be hard on your neck.”
    “Did you hear me? I’m jealous of you and Maggie.”
    “I’m still learning, Biff. There are things I don’t understand yet. The Lord said, ‘I am a jealous God.’ So jealousy should be a good thing.”
    “But it makes me feel so bad.”
    “You see the puzzle, then? Jealousy makes you feel bad, but God is jealous, so it must be good, yet when a dog licks its balls it seems to enjoy it, but it must be bad under the Law.”
    Suddenly Joshua was yanked to his feet by the ear. The Pharisee glared at him. “Is the Law of Moses too boring for you, Joshua bar Joseph?”
    “I have a question, Rabbi,” Joshua said.
    “Oh, jeez.” I hid my head in my arms.

C hapter 4
    Yet another