Friday, November 05, 2004
Have a Drink on Me
“You wanker,” Yahweh grumbled. “It’s all your damn fault. We’d have won this election if you hadn’t pandered to the gay crowd. We actually had them believing the Holy Family had split up, and it would have worked, but you had to push it, you little twit. And it didn’t help that Mary kept drinking. When that story broke, it was all over.”
“But, Dad, what’re we going to do?” Jesus whined. “It’s all over. Moon and Satan and, and… we’re screwed. And where’s Lincoln?”
“Hey, Yahweh! There’s shomething in my whishkey!” Mary gurgled, as she sat at the table holding her bottle up to the light.
“Hey, Dad, it’s a tiny Abraham Lincoln. Riding a cow.” Jesus was peering into the bottle.
“What? Lemme see that.” Yahweh grabbed the bottle from Jesus, sloshing a little onto Mary’s head.
“Hey!” she shouted, reeling toward Yahweh and grabbing the bottle. “That’s my whiskey. Give it back!”
Of course, the bottle fell and shattered on the tile floor of the Holy Family’s kitchen.
“Dammit! I just mopped that floor!” the Holy Ghost yelled. He’d been standing at the sink washing dishes.
“Hey, look. Mary was right. It is a little tiny Abe.” Yahweh scooped him up in his hands. “Gimme a magnifier, Jesus.”
Jesus dug into his old Heaven Scouts backpack and took out an official HS magnifying glass.
“It’s Abe, all right. And he’s riding Bessie. Wonder how he got in Mary’s hooch? Mary--? Mary, where’d you get, huh? Where’d she go?”
“Down to the liquor store, I imagine.”
“Hope she’s not driving the station wagon. Cops said if they caught her DUI again, it’d be jail.”
“What do we do about Abe? I can see him waving his tiny little arms and shouting, but I can’t hear him.”
“Call Zeus. He’s good at this reversing shrinking stuff.”