Jesus

Sara: High! How are you doing?

 

Jesus: Great, how are you?

 

S: Fantastic, fantastic. So sorry to keep you waiting, I had to take a call from distribution that just dragged on and on.

 

J: No worries, I understand how it can be.

 

S: Please, please come inside. Have a seat right here, thank you.

 

J: Sure thing.

 

S: You've been waiting quite a bit so I'm going to be very blunt and cut to the chase; the reason we called you in for an interview is because you have one of the most impressive resumes we have ever seen.

 

J: Aww shucks, I'm blushing.

 

S: I don't mean to speak in... what's the word, hyperbole? But seriously, your resume reads like a 'what-to-do' for aspiring Best Buy Team Leads. The extensive experience working our Jasper store, sensitivity training you volunteered yourself for, and dying for our sins after being wrongfully sentenced by Pontius Pilate are all huge pluses.

 

J: You are too kind.

 

S: Plus I haven't seen many people pull off Comic Sans on their resume, but I would expect no less from the Son of God.

J: Thank you. Well I've never been too big a fan of Times New Roman, or Romans for that matter, so I tend to switch up the font here and there.

S: Your references all spoke glowingly of both your work ethic and ability to cure leprosy. One of your references, John I think it was? Seemed a bit off compared to the other three.

J: He can be a bit over dramatic but he's a good dude.

 

S: Going over your work history I see you mostly worked in miracles between 33 and 1996.

J: Oh, I was, uh, in Heaven serving with my Father. It was an administrative position, mostly paperwork and the like.

S: What made you leave, Your Holiness? I imagine serving as the right hand of God is a pretty tough position to walk away from.

J: Just odd hours, honestly. Mostly because the Sun never sets. Makes it hard to know what time it is.

S: So Jesus, tell me what you feel you can bring to the Best Buy staff? How do you feel you can help this store succeed? I guess what I'm asking is, why should we hire you?

J: Well first of all, I am Jesus.

S: ...

J: ...

S: The Perfect Man, with the perfect answer. Listen, being honest with you Christ Almighty, you got the job. You had the job the moment you walked in this office.

J: Excellent! Wonderful! I am Jesus!

S: However, discussing with my supervisor we feel that you are a bit overqualified for this position.

 

J: Is it because I'm your Lord and Savior, turned water into wine, all that?

 

S: Exactly, exactly. But let me clarify. We like what you bring to the table. We really do. We just don't want to hire you and then three days later you ascend to Heaven or accept a position at Circuit City. It's not very often we get a deity of your caliber wanting to work for Best Buy.

J: I will do whatever you ask using my name, so that the Father will be glorified by the Son... I will do it. (JN 14:13)

S: I don't think that answered my question but I like Bible references. Congratulations, Jesus Christ, welcome to Best Buy.

J: Appreciate this. Thank you so much.

S: We'll be giving you a call some time this week to let you know when your first day and orientation is.

J: I'll be looking forward to it.

S: Um, Jesus?

J: Yes, my child?

S: Just one final question, if you don't mind.

J: Sure, anything.

S: ...so are you, like, your own dad or uh, how... how does that work?

Laundry

I fucking hate doing laundry.

It's a 20-25 minute walk from my apartment to the nearest laundromat. While I could drive, these legs of granite aren't going to chisel themselves. I load my duffle bag with clothes and snacks, walk in a circle five times before exiting my door (I have OCD), then lock/unlock my door eight times (OCD again; it's not quirky, it's miserable) and head about my way.

As I near the laundromat I notice a motley crew of foul mouthed children playing a rather raucous game of craps in the parking lot. Recognizing the smallest child, and hoping to avoid conflict, I quietly shuffle by whilst avoiding eye contact.

"Hey Coats!" The smallest child calls to me. He flicks his cigarette and approaches menacingly. "Ya' got a lotta fuckin' nerve, ya' know that?"

"Knuckles, please, I just need a little more time," I plead. He flips out his butterfly knife and grabs me by the collar.

"Ya' got one week, ya' hear me? One fuckin' week, then I gut ya' like the fuckin' pig ya' are. Understand, friend?"

"Yes sir, thank you sir." He balls up his fist and punches me in the stomach, which elicits laughter from his fellow eight year olds. I sort of have a gambling problem, and sort of owe people money.

Dragging myself into the laundromat I'm greeted by grainy Ranchera music and babies running around in diapers. The mounted television is playing one of those Mexican game shows that has some clowns, some hot women, and some mustaches. The scene causes either nostalgia or indigestion to briefly consume my being, as my local laundromat is the closest I will come to visiting El Paso, my home, for the foreseeable future.

As I'm loading my clothes into the nearest washer I feel a tiny foot repeatedly kicking my leg. A small, ice cream stained toddler stands behind me, his face in perpetual I'm-about-to-sneeze-I'm-about-to-sneeze-no-wait-I'm-good mode. His mother quickly runs up and grabs him by the hand, apologizing. He looks up at me, with his stupid three year old eyes, turns absent-mindedly to his left, then does the most impressively awkward sprint I have ever, or will ever, see in my life. Like a gazelle missing one leg, with its remaining legs on fire. Ambivalent as to what to do in such a situation, I turn to the mother and say "Cute kid."

"Oh, thank you," she smiles politely. "He's not mine." Her smile slowly dissipates. "Not yet." She is staring off into the distance. "Soon. Soon he will be." Her eyes are the eyes of one who has seen much sorrow, of one who will see much more. "Mine. Forever."

Focusing on the task at hand I put my quarters in the washing machine. Not one to disappoint, the washing machine eats my quarters. The machine reads ERROR: DESPAIR. Using my Ring of Summoning (+2 Wisdom, +15 Mana) I call forth Quarter Wizard Lady the Gray.

She stops sweeping the floors and comes to my aid. "Que paso? It eat you quarters?"

 

"Your grace, this washing machine has broken the Pact of Six and consumed my quarters without having first laundered my laundry. I beg your assistance in retribution, o' Great Wizard."

"Oh, este no work. No use it." Quarter Wizard Lady's sagacity never fails to impress me. She hands me six quarters. "Different one."

"You humble me with your assistance, Quarter Wizard Lady. A thousand pardons for having disturbed you from your sweeping." She grunts and waddles off to sweep floors that need sweeping.

Many moons later I transfer my clothes from a washing machine to a dryer. I briefly contemplate what would happen if one put a washing machine into a dryer, then quickly shake such juvenile thoughts from my head. Obviously it would make a Transformer®.

 

I notice that an older gentleman is removing my laundry from the dryer. I reach for my wallet to flip a silver dollar for his troubles, then I realize he is stealing my clothes. I flare my lats to look hella jacked and more intimidating, then ask him what he is doing.

 

"Him what he is doing?" My brain and mouth don't always see eye to eye.

 

"What?"

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"Getting my laundry."

 

"That's my laundry."

 

"Whaaaaaaat?"

 

"Do you work for UNT?"

 

"Maybe, maybe not. What's it to you?"  

"Because those are UNT shirts I wear for work."

"Oh, it looks like you're right. These are clearly shirts for pussies."

"There's no need for name calling."

"There's also no need for you to have such colorful underwear."

"Just drop the clothes, dude."

"You must say that alot." He drops the clothes, then he drops the mic.

I fucking hate doing laundry.

Games

My carriage rolls to a stop as I reach my destination. Hugo, my driver, hastily opens my door.

 

"Thank you, Hugo. I shall send for you when I am ready."

 

"Yes sir, very good sir."

 

I dust off my spatterdashes, adjust my handkerchief, and leisurely twirl my cane as I make my way toward my friend's apartment. I stroll by two lovely young women, and tip my hat to them. "Good evening ladies. Mayhaps this be the apartment of one Evelyn Miller?"

 

"Nah, next one over. What the fuck are you wearing?" asks the more boorish of the two.

 

"Why, only the latest coat from famed Italian designer Sergio Mozzarella." Instinctively I twirl so they may absorb the entirety of my coat.  

 

"You look like a fucking asshole."

 

"Charmed, I'm sure." I tip my hat and genitalia towards them and bid them adieu. 'Adieu' is Mexican for 'sayonara,' which in turn is Asian for 'goodbye.' Language! I approach Evelyn's door and bang the ever loving shit out of it. I quickly ruffle up my cravat; a properly ruffled cravat serves as a visual aphrodisiac for women and some household plants.

 

She opens the door, looking ravishing as always. Her Homer Simpson pajama pants, ketchup stained t shirt, and complete lack of make up only serve to accentuate her beauty. "Dominic, what's with the costume? It's just board games, not a Halloween party." She laughs erotically. Or nervously, one of the two.

 

"Oh, bwa ha ha! Fa la la la! Scrumpleedo! My dear, you mustn't jest like so; you shall make me laugh off my new wig." I place my hat and coat away, though I do find it strange there are no negroes to do so for me. I walk- no, glide -towards the living room to great the other guests. There are roughly eight people spread out on various couches and the floor itself, partaking in delectable imported cheese and Steel Reserve™ malt liquor.  All eight stop speaking as soon as I enter the room. Knowing a cue if I ever saw one, I perform the most elegant of bows in the history of elegant bows.

 

"Good evening. I am Lord Dominic Coats, Duke of Ravenshire. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, you fucking faggots." Oh, dear. It appears I have accidentally let out another homophobic epithet. A remnant of my father's convictions, I assure you; it is most unbecoming of a gentleman and a habit I try mightily to shake.

 

"Er, uh... a thousand pardons. What I had meant to say was 'a pleasure to make your acquaintance, you fucking faggots and ladies.'" Pleased with my swift recovery, the guests clap politely and nod in agreement.  

 

Afterwards I assert myself as the belle of the ball. But, like, the dude version. I regale my fellow guests with delightful tales of hunting trips with Lord Baron Von Poopshitcz, my harrowing escape from the fiendish Redcoats during the summer of 1775, and that time I hit a deer driving from Fort Worth to Austin. Alas, my tales would not be enough to satiate the party for the entirety of the evening.

 

"Alright! Everyone get your drinks! Game time!" Evelyn says. She holds various games in her hands; Monopoly, Apples to Apples, Priests and Ladders, RENT! The Movie: The Game, and more. "What'd y'all want to play first?"

 

Her question holds little merit, for whatever game is decided upon shall end no differently; me, standing above the mangled and charred corpses of my enemies, victorious.

 

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED...

Nigerian

Dear Friend and Acquaintance,

Forgive for such an informal notice of assistance. I am Prince Charmander Agabi, Defense Secretary of the Nigerian People of Freedom Republic. As you may well already be aware of and know, we are currently fighting the Nigerian Army of Tyranny and Oppression. We have only now recently begun to march single file onto Abuja, our capital city of Nigeria, seeking to overthrow President Bulbasaur Okafor. His leadership has been an outrage and injustice to our people. To fight the government people we must properly have the funds to make do so.

To aid in the fight we shall transport the sum of 250000USD$ to your account, of which you will re route to an offshore account near a shore. Upon successful completion we shall transfer 10000USD$ to your account successfully. I would not ask you of this if not very necessary. We shall need your account information and date of birth to verify your trust and once verified we shall transfer you the sum of 250000USD$ immediately. The people of Nigeria thank you friend.

Regards,

Prince Charmander Agabi


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

My Dearest Charmander,

 

Oh! Has it been so many years, my love! Many an evening I have waited on the veranda, praying to catch a glimpse of your carriage returned from the War, or for the postman to deliver a message of your good health. Instead, many an evening I lay awake in tears for I was greeted with no such correspondence. For so long I have yearned for your touch, for the rough, callused hands of an African warlord masquerading as a diplomat, and now, after all this time, you return to me!

 

Oh! The way you held me in the foyer as we basked in the moonlight, the way you gently nibbled on my ear like a man mouse nibbles on a woman mouse's ear, the way you sent your military junta to slaughter an entire village so that we could leisurely stroll through town square. My love! My sweet, sweet Charmander! Just the thought of your touching my body makes me... makes me...

 

Oh! It appears I have fainted. My delicate, womanly form could only take so much scandalous thoughts of you and I together before succumbing to my lady boner and losing consciousness.

 

Oh! I had initially feared for the worst when I sent letters to you on the war front only to have severed human fingers returned to me. Surely, I thought, surely this could not be true; the man who taught me burning the children of one's enemy is an effective method for squashing disobedience in one's own ranks could not meet so grisly a fate.

 

Oh! There is so much you have missed in your five years on the war front, my love! Without your military to buy their wares, the local machete factory has closed indefinitely. So has the Superfluous Military Medals factory, unfortunately. Many of the women your soldiers raped have given birth to healthy, beautiful mulatto children. Alas, my womb remains barren and devoid of child. But oh! With your return we shall rejoin our bodies in union, my legs spread out among the stars and heavens to receive your noble celestial ejaculate. Finally, my love, you shall have your heir!

Oh! You need not ask for my assistance with your war effort, my love; only tell me where, and I shall send the full extent of my resources to aid you. Unfortunately, there is but one stipulation. Currently, as you know, there is an embargo between the Colonies and Nigeria. Luckily, there is no such restrictions with either country trading with the Democratic Republic of Congo. If you were to transfer the sum of 500000USD$ to my account in the Congo, I would be able to repay with interest plus 250000USD$. While I make arrangements with my associates if you would be so kind as to write me with your account information and date of birth to verify that you are indeed the love of my life.

Devoted Always,

Lady Catherine Raventits 

Babies

Babies are adorable in moderation. Because they are lacking in social skills and general politeness, they do not know what moderation means. Also because they do not speak English. Sometimes, howerver, moderation will simply not do; babies are not needed at all. The following is a list of places I do not want to see babies anymore.

Grocery Store

Inside a Bag of Cereal

Quizno's

Working at a Quizno's

On a Sandwich Made at Quizno's

Riding a Dog Like a Horse

Inside a Basket Left On My Doorstep

Laundromat

Laundromat Parking Lot Playing Craps Looking Shady as Shit

Stuck Inside a Tree Trying to Get Honey a la Winnie the Pooh

On the Street Working as a Circus Barker

Barbershop

Barbershop 2: Back in Business

Police Interrogation Room During 'Good Cop, Baby Cop' Routine

In a Car as a Designated Driver

Dressed as Fruit Inside a Fruit Basket

Leading a Mosh Pit

On a Rollercoaster

Starting Power Forward For the Phoenix Suns

Operating a Rollercoaster

Inside a Basket Left On My Doorstep With a Heartfelt Note Saying That the Mother Loves the Baby With All Her Heart But She Is Incapable of Providing For Him and Prays That I Can Give Him the Type of Home He Needs

 

Department of Batman's Motor Vehicles

On a Cruise Ship

On a Somali Pirate Ship Boarding a Cruise Ship

On a Space Pirate Ship Boarding the International Space Station

Seriously Stop Fucking Leaving Babies On My Doorstep, There Are a Bunch of Cats in My Neighborhood and If I'm Not Home When You Drop Off the Baby He/She Will Almost Definitely Be Attacked By Cats

Erotica

James: 1-2-3-thrust! 1-2-3-thrust! 1-2-3-thrust! 1-2-

Mary: What are you doing?

J: I'm having sex with you.

M: No, no I can see that. Why are you counting?

J: To maintain an acceptable rhythm. I've learned that women love a proper rhythm.

M: Ok. Maybe... a faster rhythm?

J: 1-2-thrust?

M: It's a start.

 

[After some gentle thrusting]

J: Are you ok?

M: I'm fine.

J: How is my level of gentleness?

M: It's fine.

J: Should I be more gentle?

M: Less gentle, if anything.

J: If you insist.

[James increases speed of tempo to 1-thrust]

J: Bless you.

M: I didn't sneeze.

J: It looked like you were about to.

M: You say bless you before someone sneezes?

J: Preemptive blessing, yes.

M: Well, not to worry. I won't be sneezing anytime soon.

[Silence]

J: Are you about to sneeze now?

M: I don't think so.

J: Ok.

[Silence]

J: It's just you scrunched up your face a bit, like you were about to sneeze.

M: I'm not abou- HACHOO!

J: Bless you.

[Silence]

M: Thank you. Sorry for sneezing on your face.

J: It's fine. You didn't have a lot of mucus so it wasn't that bad.

M: It's because I took allergy medicine before you came over.

J: Wise. Shall we try a different position?

M: Wouldn't hurt.

J: If it does hurt please do not hesitate to let me know immediately.

[Both move around uncomfortably]

J: What position would you like?

M: Um, I don't know.

J: We could... go back to missionary.

M: Doggy. We will try doggy style.

J: Very well.

 

[Mary rests on her knees, waiting]

J: I am having reservations about this 'doggy style.'

M: What? Why?

J: I just... I just feel it reinforces archaic patriarchal stereotypes and paints you as uncharacteristically submissive.

M: I don't even-

J: You are a strong black woman! You deserve to be treated as such!

M: I'm Thai, actually.

J: Oh.

[Silence]

J: You're Thai?

M: Yes. My parents were born in Pattaya.

J: Well, as a strong cisgender woman of color I feel I am doing you a disservice by employing the doggy style technique.

M: You're not, honest. I assure you I have never felt more liberated than I do now.

J: ...really?

M: Really. This place is a place of love.

J: We are in the Loss Prevention office of a Wal Mart.

 

M: Yes. It is Loss Prevention, not Love Prevention. We are here because we love each other, and because we both had the same schedule today. Now please, would you kindly put your penis back inside my vagina?

[1 minute later]

J: How does it feel?

M: It feels al- HACHOO!

J: Bless you.

M: Thank you.

Looney

It was another miserable, rainy day in this miserable, rainy city. After running the beat for 12 years I'm actually upset when it isn't raining. 12 years. Every time I think of quitting the force, my good buddy Johnnie Walker calms me down. I take one last shot of whiskey before I grab my coat and head out the door. I was meeting Gomez over by ACME Tools. Phoned me earlier, something about a possible murder. Heh. In this city, there is no possible murder. Just murder.

I arrive in front of ACME Tools and the coats are already hauling the poor bastard off. Gomez is surveying the scene. He's always first to the scene.

"Glad you could join us, O'Malley. I was getting lonely." Always a smartass, too.

"Can it, Gomez. What've we got?"

"Well," he lights a cigarette, "seems like we got ourselves a classic case of wrong place at the wrong time."

 

I take in the area as Gomez continues. Directly in front of ACME Tools are the remains of a piano, presumably a piano that fell some distance. I look up to see the still dangling rope from where it snapped. "By wrong place you mean here, and wrong time you mean now?"

 

He stares blankly. "What the f- yeah. Yeah, that's what I'm getting at."

 

"I'm guessing this here piano crushed the man being hauled off right now. Any witnesses?"

 

"A few, still a little rattled. That dame over there gave me the rundown. At about 10:43 AM a one Mr. Wile E. Coyote enters ACME Tools. Owner says he was looking for a giant catapult to, and I quote, 'end that insufferable bird once and for all.'"

 

"Looks like the bird lives to fight another day," I say smugly. The only part of this job I don't hate is that I can be smug pretty much non-stop.

 

"Yeah. Well, owner tells Coyote that they don't sell catapults, so he ends up leaving the store somewhat irate. Witnesses say that right when he walked outside he barely dodged a runaway wedding cake on a cart by jumping right here," Gomez motions to where the piano lays. "He was heard saying 'boy, that was a close one,' seconds before this piano landed on him."

 

Looking up at the rope again I check for signs of foul play. After being distracted by a few clouds I stop checking for signs of foul play. "Where was the piano being moved to?"

 

"Third floor, ACME Music. Movers say the rope just snapped. Freak accident." It's my experience in this town that there are only freaks, no accidents. "Luckily, or unluckily, however you please, the piano didn't kill him. Witnesses say it just turned him into a giant accordion, his teeth replaced by piano keys for some reason."

 

"He had visible music notes swirling around his head, huh?" I know how this goes.

 

As does Gomez. He nods while lighting another cigarette, his first still burning in his left hand. "Yup. Coyote then stumbles around in a daze, mumbles something about forgetting to bring his sheet music, and heads south on Mulberry. That's when this safe fell on him." Gomez walks a little ways off to the opposite side of the building where, sure enough, a safe sits firmly rooted into the concrete.

 

"Being moved up to ACME Banking?"

 

"Being moved up to ACME Banking. Fourth floor." Looks like Life was selling sandwiches for a nickel and Coyote didn't even have a penny. "Somehow he managed to open the safe from the inside, and immediately vomited out gold coins and dollar bills. Why he ate them in the first place we'll never know."

 

I begin to think if this is mere coincidence, two foreign objects landing on one man mere seconds apart, or the endgame of a far more sinister plot. Thinking hurts my head. Knew I should've brought my whiskey. "So the musical notes floating around his head, still there?"

 

"Replaced by floating cash registers and dollar signs. That dame I told you about earlier was going to run over and check on him when she heard a Falling Whistle Sound Effect™. Stopped, looked up, and watched. This is what did the poor bastard in."

 

Gomez motions to just behind the safe as he lights a third cigarette, one for his mouth and each hand. I told him those things will kill him, and I think he mistook it for encouragement. As I look just past the safe, I feel stupid for not having seen this coming.

 

"The old fashioned skydiver-with-a-bag-filled-with-silverware-and-utensils-instead-of-a-parachute, huh? Eighth one this month." All of those jumpers had jumped out of planes owned by ACME Aviation. The mangled corpse of the skydiver was just now being attended to by paramedics. Spoons, forks, knives, and a few broken plates lay around his corpse. Of course, the only one eating fat after a snafu like this is Lady Death.

 

"When the skydiver, who we're still trying to ID, fell on Coyote they were both killed instantly. A real bloodbath, partner." Gomez shakes his head, hands on his hips. Not so much out of disbelief but relief. He knows that in this city, this accident could have been much worse. "Honestly we're lucky we know this much. Most witnesses only saw the piano bit but the dame over the way saw the whole thing. Said she was only here because she made a wrong turn at Albuquerque."

 

I stop dead in my tracks. It appears the plot has thickened.