Thursday, September 09, 2004
Olivia, it’s me.
Where are you?
Inside of you.
Again? You know I hate that. Why’d I let you put those chips in my brain?
Because I said I would kill you if you didn’t.
That was when I was still alive, though. And then I died in an unfair accident, anyway. It’s just not fair, is all. So, whaddya want?
You gotta get Jesus.
Give me a break. You’ve turned into a preacher? You want me to look deep in my soul, find Jesus, and shout Praise the Lord?
No, I mean I want you to get Jesus. As in, kidnap him and bring him here.
What? Are you nuts? Kidnap the world’s most popular savior? Shit. How am I gonna do that? The Holy Ghost is always hanging around, like some creepy bodyguard, for one thing.
I’ll take care of that.
Huh. So, where is he? At the mansion?
Word is, Yahweh’s having a barbecue tonight. Jesus will be appearing there as a baby. I plan on being there.
You want me to snatch him at a barbecue? With everyone hanging around? That’s suicide.
No, stupid. After the barbecue. Mary will get tired of Yahweh’s jokes and bragging, and she’ll say, “Oh, I’d better put Baby Jesus to bed, now,” and she’ll carry him upstairs and put him to bed. You know that Mother of God milk just knocks him out. Then she’ll come back down to do the dishes and take a few jolts out of that bottle she keeps under the sink. I’ll keep the Holy Ghost busy by challenging him to a thumb wrestling match. You snatch the kid.
I’ll need a ladder. And some chloroform and a sack.
It’s all in the phone truck outside. You’re a phone repair person.
OK, after I snatch the kid, then what?
You bring him here. Keep him sedated. Debone him if you need to.
And that’s all.
No ransom note to Mary and Yahweh?
This isn’t about money.
It’s all politics, baby. You just sit on the kid till I tell you different. Oh, and—
Keep a sharp eye out for a 40-something blond named Coulter. She wants the kid, too. Got her own axe to grind. And she’s got a chip in her brain, too, only I can’t access it, so I don’t know where she is or what she’s thinking. We’re working on it, though…should be able to hack our way in soon.
Make it quick.
What’s with the rumor you’re working for Zeus? That the Olympians are responsible for the outbreak of hurricanes, and revelations about the Leader of the Free World, and the robotic goats, and the overflowing blogshit…
My suggestion is you forget you ever heard that. Capiche?