It is a hot, dusty day in beautiful downtown Tehran, Iran, as the thin young man approaches a nondescript storefront and opens the door.

"Hey!" a gruff voice from within calls out. "Close the door, you infidel. You're letting out all the air conditioning."

"I'm sorry, Uncle Abdullah," says the young man.

Abdullah, bald and paunchy, has his desk telephone receiver on one ear and his cell phone on the other as he looks at the young man with disdain.

"Achmed, if you weren't my sister's boy, I swear to Allah I'd never let you work here. Try to make yourself useful. Sweep up the place."

Achmed nods meekly and picks up a broom and dustpan. There is always a lot of dust in beautiful downtown Tehran. Uncle Abdullah, meanwhile, is talking into his office phone.

"You want the standard spontaneous demonstration, right? You want it Tuesday from 2 p.m. to 4:30? All right, let me check my schedule."

A quick glance at his laptop computer later, Abdullah talks into the phone again.

"Listen, Gamel, I can let you have 750 wild-eyed demonstrators Tuesday at 2, but I'm going to need them back for another spontaneous demonstration by 4 o'clock. What do you want them protesting against this time?

"The U.S. Senate approved another resolution in support of Israel? Gamel, for such a worthy cause, I would normally give a 5 percent discount. But for you, I'll knock off 7 percent, and I'm not making a rial on the deal.

"C'mon, Gamel, you know it takes about 9,000 rials to make one American dollar. I'm going broke here. All right? We have a deal? Praise Allah. Goodbye, Gamel."

Abdullah watches his nephew slowly sweeping dust into a corner.

"Achmed," he says sadly, "you're about as useful as a toothache. Put down the broom and come over here. Listen, and maybe you'll learn something. All I can say, Achmed " and I never thought I'd be speaking these words " is thank Allah for the pope. If he hadn't quoted some old Byzantine emperor saying that some of the teachings of the Prophet Mohammed were 'evil and inhuman,' I'd be starving.

"Look, kiddo, when you're in the 'spontaneous demonstration' business, it's either feast or famine. Things were great when Israel and Hezbollah were going at each other. I couldn't keep up with demand. I had employees coming down with strep throat and pulling hamstrings, they were doing so much protesting. My health-insurance premiums are going through the roof."

Achmed is about to say something, but Abdullah abruptly holds up a hand. His cell phone party is no longer keeping him on "hold."

"Murray!" says Abdullah in the friendliest voice he can muster. "Tell me, how are you, Murray? The wife over her lumbago? How are the kids? That's swell, Murray, just swell. Me? Oh, about the same. I'm up to my moustache in work ever since the pope slammed Mohammed.

"Listen, Murray, that's kind of why I'm calling you. I've got a favor to ask. I have a rush order. Let's see ... I'll need 200 hand-painted bedsheets with the usual slogans " you know, 'Death to Israel, Death to Bush, Death to Tony Blair, Death to the United States' in English and Persian, with a few words misspelled in the English part.

"Also, you'd better give me 300 'Death to the Pope' handwritten signs and an assortment of American, Vatican and Israeli flags for burning."

"When do I need 'em? I need 'em by Thursday, or the Council for the Discernment of Expediency will cut off my hands. Murray, I'm talking about the government that pays me to round up thousands of people on an hour's notice here. There's gonna be half a million people demonstrating on Friday, and they need props. You've just got to come through for me, Murray.

Abdullah's face is crimson, his eyes bulging as he shouts into his little cell phone. Achmed has never seen his uncle like this before.

"What, Murray? How much? There must be something wrong with this phone. I can't believe you would hold me up like that? Why don't you just take a gun and shoot me, Murray?

"Murray, I knew you when you were sitting there in Canada painting five bedsheets a month for protesting the metric system. I made you a rich man, Murray, and you're going to rob me like this?"

Abdullah listens for a moment.

"All right, Murray. That's a little better, but you're still taking the food out of my children's mouths. You'll have the stuff here by Thursday? Federal Express? You're a thief, Murray, but all right. Goodbye."

Achmed " wide-eyed " looks up at his uncle, who is suddenly very calm and pleased with himself because he's going to make an enormous amount of money off of his next "spontaneous demonstration."

"Would the Council for the Discernment of Expediency really cut off your hands, Uncle Abdullah?"

The businessman chuckles.

"What are you, nuts? You're almost as gullible as those Americans watching my demonstrations on CNN. You're through sweeping the floor? Well, then, get out of here. I've got work to do.

Achmed slowly walks out, careful to close the door quickly so as not to let out any of his uncle's air conditioning. It is a hot, dusty day in beautiful downtown Tehran, Iran.

___

Sam Pollak is editor of The Daily Star. He can be reached at spollak@thedailystar.com or at (607) 432-1000, ext. 208.