Friday, November 12, 2004

 

A Promise

"Thanks, man," Satan says, as they ride away in the borrowed Jeep. "I was beginning to think nobody with enough authority was going to intervene with those numbskulls."

"No problem," Osama says. "It is hard to get good help these days. And Arafat has been out of touch for a long time."

"So who finally brought you in?"

"The Bu'ushites."

"Not George W., surely?" Satan says.

"No," Osama laughs, "they couldn't tear him away from his video game. Now that Rove's dead, the financier Bush cousins have had to play a somewhat more active role in policy-making. They prefer the shadows, as do I."

"Rove was a smart boy, all right," Satan says proudly. "You gotta love the balls on a mere human who'll come up with big grandiose plans like 9/11 and the invasion of Iraq."

"Yeah," Osama sighs. "On 9/11 I gave the Bu'ushites the mandate they needed to go to war and curtail civil liberties; by invading Iraq George gave me the recruiting tool I needed. And your boy put it all together. I didn't believe him, in fact, you know that?"

"About what?"

"That the Twin Towers would collapse if we hit them with a jet airplane. I scoffed. But he'd done the engineering calculations. He had it all worked out."

"He constantly amazed me too. My own boy!"

"I've been wondering," Osama says.

"Yeah?" Satan says.

"Wouldn't that suit have some sort of resurrection powers?"

Satan nods. "You're thinking of bringing Karl back, right?"

"Well," Osama says, "I really miss him."

"Don't think I haven't given it some thought," Satan says. "The problem is that when the fuckwits chopped him down on the Million Mantid March, they burned the plant and scattered the ashes. I don't know how I'd resurrect any of that. I really need Karl here to help me figure it out!"

"Yeah, I'm feeling a bit adrift these days too. Just last year Karl got me to demand the removal of US troops from Saudi Arabia, and then removed them, giving me a tremendous boost all across the Middle East--and then figured out a way to spin it in the US so the Chimp Clone didn't lose points with the militarists who think I'm you!"

"Sheer genius," Satan agrees.

"But that was then," Osama says rather plaintively. "Now, what? A measly little war of attrition against the infidel occupiers of Iraq? Small potatoes. I need Karl. Promise me you'll figure out a way to bring him back."

"You got it, big guy," Satan says.


 

Why Have I Forsaken You?

Yahweh was inconsolable. He sat out on the compost heap and wailed, and tore his clothes, and threw ashes in his hair. Fat tears coursed copiously down his grimy cheeks.

"My Son, My Son," he cried, "why have I forsaken You?"

"Dad," Jesus said, "You didn't forsake Me; somebody just kidnapped Me. I mean--"

"Why did I refuse to turn My countenance upon You?" Yahweh keened.

"Dad," Jesus said, "I can see Your countenance just fine."

"First I had You crucified, now I've let You get kidnapped! I'm a terrible, terrible Father!"

"Dad," Jesus said, looking around to see if the neighbors were watching, "would you cut this out? Somebody's gonna see you."

"My Kingdom, half My Kingdom, to the deity who gets me back My Son!"

"Dad," Jesus said, "please, I'm right here! Don't start giving away Your Kingdom to impostors returning the impostor that got kidnapped!"

"A third of My Kingdom to the one who lets me look once more on the creamy, blemish-free face of My only begotten Son!"

Jesus rolled His eyes, threw up His soft hands. Fuck the stubborn old Fart!

He went inside. The Holy Ghost was Hoovering the sofa. He flicked off the machine, tipped His head down at Jesus. "Did He budge?"

"No," Jesus said.

"Told ya," the Holy Ghost said.

"Shit," Jesus said, and went to His room.


Thursday, November 11, 2004

 

Shocking News

JESUS SNATCHED IN BROAD DAYLIGHT; MARY IN HOSPITAL WITH LIVER FAILURE

(Heaven and New York City, APP) According to police, Jesus was kidnapped in broad daylight while walking out of the Fox News studios here earlier today, where he had been taping an interview with Greta van Susteren. Early reports indicate that three men “of Middle-Eastern origin” threw a burlap sack over the head of the Savior, and threw him into a black Mercedes, which then sped off.

“We have not had contact with the kidnappers, nor has Yahweh heard from them yet,” Sergeant Hank Wilfurtz said. “We have no leads as to where they may have taken him. It almost certainly must be the work of some very powerful people, though. I mean, to snatch an all-powerful deity in broad daylight?”

As the investigation continues, news from our reporter in Heaven, Samuel Clemens, indicates that the Mother of Jesus, Mary, is in the hospital in a deep coma, reportedly suffering from liver failure. Yahweh is reported to be at her bedside. While Yahweh declined to speak to reporters, his spokesperson granted a brief interview to Mr. Clemens just minutes ago.

Adam ben Ezra: “Now this isn’t for addition to the Holy Scriptures or anything, you understand,” he began, “because we can’t verify that Mary is actually ill. There is no sickness or tears in Heaven, after all, and Yahweh just built the hospital here because the Christian Scientists insisted on it.”

Clemens: “Sounds like a coverup to me, ben Ezra. We all know Mary has been into the sauce for the last few years. Even a Holy Liver has to give out sooner or later.”

Adam ben Ezra: “I can’t confirm or deny that.”

Clemens: “Have you heard that Jesus was kidnapped? Any ideas on that?”

Adam ben Ezra: “Yahweh is being kept abreast of that situation, yes. And he asks that all of his supporters keep Jesus and Mary in their prayers until this tragedy is over.”

Clemens: “That’s kind of a switch, isn’t it? I mean, usually people appeal to Jesus and Mary in their prayers.”

Adam ben Ezra: “So now you’re saying that you can’t return the favor, when they’re in need?”

Clemens: “But whose name would they pray in?”

Adam ben Ezra: “Just leave that part blank, and we’ll fill it in later at processing. OK? I have to go now.”


 

Denial Ain't a River in Heaven

You know that they meant to get you, Jesus.

Don’t be silly. Who’d want to kidnap me?

Your dad’s behind it. Face the facts. He wants you out.

Does not. My dad loves me. He just has a hard time showing it. All those years in the desert, arguing with Moses. He’s had a rough time.

Look, Jesus, denying it isn’t going to help. Your dad kills people who get in his way. You know it’s true.

Okay, Ghost, fine. Suppose dad does have some anger management issues? Why does that mean he’d want to kidnap me?

He’s planning another kid. A whole new family. I read it in his diary.

You’re lying.

I’m the Holy Ghost. I don’t lie.

Yeah, sure, whatever. How about that time you said my pet rabbit got lost, and then I found you burying it in the back yard?

That was different.

Well, I don’t believe it. I’m going to go to my masseur’s appointment like I always do.

I’m coming along. I’m telling you, when they find out that they got the wrong Jesus, you’re meat.

Fine, come along. Maybe a nice massage with some cucumber cream will calm you down.


 

Mistake?

I’m NOT Jesus, you stupid assholes! I’m Satan. Look, just let me get this fucking suit off and I’ll show you!

Hit him with the denialozine again, Ahmed.

You sure this stuff works? He’s still putting up a fight.

All the deities and spirits have a tolerance to it. Don’t worry. Just up the dose.

No! Don’t shoot any more of that stuff into m—

He’s out.

Man, he took a lot.

Arafat told us it would take a lot. He says all the deities have a weird reaction to it. Instead of increasing their levels of denial, it makes them fall asleep and dream of things they don’t have to deny because they’re infallible.

You think this guy’s really Jesus? He kept claiming he’s Satan. He’s still muttering something. I can’t make it out. Sounds like “hell to pay.”

Look at him. Of course it’s Jesus.

I don’t know. He looks, well, bigger somehow. More manly.

Don’t worry about it, Ahmed. When we get to our insurgent hideout, Arafat will sort it all out. He has the Holy Prepuce.

A-ha. That’s why he had to die. The only way to get it.

Right. How much longer till we get there, al-Nasiya?

Ten minutes.


 

Greta Van Susteren Interviews the Real Jesus

"Welcome to On the Record With Greta Van Susteren. I'm your host Greta Van Susteren, and I've got a special treat for all our loyal Fox News home viewers. There has been some controversy over the true identity of a man calling himself Jesus Christ who has been appearing on the communist propaganda radio station Air America. Here to set the record straight, a total surprise to my staff and myself, is a man I've loved and admired since my youth, the Messiah, Jesus Christ. Welcome to the program, My Lord."

"Thank you, Greta. You can just call Me Jesus."

"Well, Jesus, why don't You tell us, once and for all: are You a liberal?"

Jesus laughs. "Of course not, Greta. And the poor lost soul who's been posing as a liberal Me will find out when he comes to his eternal 'reward' just how costly an imposture it's been for him."

"So when liberal Christians--if that isn't an oxymoron, ha ha!--start quoting all that blather about 'turn the other cheek' and 'forgive your brother seventy times seven times' and so on, what do You want to say to them?"

"I want to say grow up. Life isn't fair. Get off your duff and put your nose to the grindstone, and stop whining about forgiveness. Penitence is just a way of making excuses, and I hate excuses."

"So when liberals say You're all about brotherly love, they're basically misquoting You, out of a woeful ignorance of the Bible?"

"Well, brotherly love can be a beautiful thing, Greta, if it's based on earned respect and an intolerance for weakness. But if by brotherly love you mean whining and puling about mercy rather than justice, well--you're right, that sort of liberal spinelessness was never what I was about."

"You aren't going to be soft and kind and loving and merciful on the Judgment Day, is what You're telling me, right?"

"That's absolutely right. As I said during my earthly mission, I'm here to bring not peace but a sword."

"So You would categorically deny any liberal propaganda calling you a pacifist?"

"Ha ha! Pacifist! That's a good one. I say go after God's enemies with all the firepower you've got. The only true pacifism in My book is, you pacify the natives with the big guns, and then move on to the next trouble spot and pacify them too."

"So what would Your solution to the conflict in Iraq be?"

"Kill em all, let God sort em out."

"And the next trouble spot would be, what--Iran?"

"Yes indeed. I've been talking to President Bush about this very issue, in fact. I think his task during his second term will be to kill all the Muslim insurgents and convert the Middle East and northern Africa to Christianity."

"Convert them? That could take forever!"

"Not if he does it with the threat of nuclear annihilation."

"No, that's quite true. Now if I could change the subject, here--"

"Certainly."

"Could we talk about social issues for a while?"

"You mean sexuality? Rampant sexual immorality? Teen pregnancy, abortion, homosexuality, and other cardinal sins?"

Greta nods, encourages Jesus to start there, and Jesus does, but as He speaks, something very strange begins to happen. Greta begins to feel very warm ... down there. The warmth spreads slowly and deliciously up from her ... private female parts into her lower belly, and then up to her breasts and chest. The heat seems to be coming from--Jesus Himself, if that's possible. As He talks, His right forefinger is out, pointed at her, moving up her body. Could it be--? She has loved this man all her life, but not like this ...

"So that's why," Jesus is saying, "I think it's imperative that we reestablish the death-by-stoning penalty for morality crimes like adultery, prostitution, and sodomy ..."

But Greta can't do it any more. She can't concentrate. She sees Jesus' eyes on her--worried? No, more like--gleaming ...

"Sorry to interrupt, Jesus," she manages to gasp, "but we're going to have to come to gomercial, I mean go to commercial ..."

A voice in her ear tells her she's off, and then, ten seconds later, she does indeed get off. Almost had this orgasm on national television. What would that have done to her career? She's never been a screamer, has always insisted that sex be conducted in absolute silence. She and her husband John have had long practice in suppressing all outward signs of orgasm, and that practice comes in handy now.

But it isn't over. It isn't like any ordinary orgasm. The thing keeps building. Pretty soon she's tearing at her clothes. The heat is in her head, now. It's like her head is exploding with a million mystical cockroaches.

And then, as her eyeballs burst like sun-ripened grapes and every hair on her head shrieks to attention, Greta lets out an unearthly howl and topples over unconscious.

"My God," her producer cries, rushing into the studio. "Somebody call a doctor!"

"No need," Jesus says with a beatific smile. He spits into His left palm, stirs the sputum with His right forefinger, and rubs the mixture into Greta's eyes. They are of course instantly restored to normalcy. Well, near enough. It will be some time before anyone notices that Greta's left eye is now green, her right, yellow.

Jesus then lays His hands on Greta's chest, belly, and upper thighs, and knees, then sinks back into His own chair. Her eyes flicker, then open. She sits up. She feels fine. Her hair is perfectly coiffed.

"What just happened?" she asks Jesus.

"You had some kind of seizure," Jesus says.

"And You healed me," she says raptly.

"Well," Jesus says modestly, "it's all in a day's work."

"Greta," her producer says, "you look--different."

"What do you mean, different," Greta says. "Good different, or bad different?"

"I don't know," the producer says. "Just--different. Are your eyes okay?"

"My eyes are fine, why?" Greta says.

"I, uh," the producer says, but runs out of ideas. "You sure you're okay to go back on?"

"Of course, of course," Greta says in her signature sardonic curled-lip rasp. "What do you take me for, a liberal?"

"Okay," the producer shrugs, stepping out of shot, "ten seconds."

And as they smile for the cameras, Jesus thinks: God damn but this suit works cherry.


Wednesday, November 10, 2004

 

Jesus Defends Own Liberalism

"My guest again today is Jesus Christ, whom many consider to be the Savior of the whole world. Welcome back to the show, Jesus."

"Thanks, Al. Glad to be back. Air America is the only media outlet that will have me any more these days."

"So I've noticed. There seems to be a regular jihad going on against You out there."

"There certainly does, Al. And the ironic thing is, it's being waged by people in My Name."

"So let's get one thing straight."

"Yes?"

"Tim LaHaye's now saying that You must be an impostor, because Jesus isn't a liberal, he's a compassionate conservative in favor of genocide, assault rifles, and a right-wing police state. Which is it: are you a liberal or a right-wing nutjob?"

"Well, Al, as I've told you and your listeners before, I'm a liberal. Always have been. That was the whole idea behind Christianity, in fact--to liberalize a dangerously primitive hate-filled ancient religion. My Dad, well--bless His heart, but He never had much patience for diversity. People got their own ideas, He just wanted to pinch their little heads and start over. Job finally suggested to Him that He make Me, a liberal, to tone things down a little."

"Oh, Job told Him that, did he?"

"Sure. 'I know my Redeemer liveth.' That was Me."

"Okay, but, uh, that was a pretty big turnaround, wasn't it? From the Jewish Bible's genocidal intolerance for difference to 'love your neighbor as yourself'?"

"Sure, in a way. But the germs of liberalism were always there. Jonah's a liberal book. The whole message of the Book of Jonah is DON'T annihilate Iraq--talk to them. These fundamentalist crusaders today keep conveniently forgetting about that."

"Really? There's a book in the Old Testament that says don't annihilate Iraq?"

"The Book of Jonah. Check it out. Nineveh, the city Jonah wants Dad to destroy, was in what today is Iraq."

"So but the rest of the Old Testament must be the basis of this so-called 'compassionate' war-mongering, right?"

"For the most part, sure. But there are plenty of liberal glimmers in it. Proverbs 11:25 says 'The liberal soul shall be made fat: and he that watereth shall be watered also himself.' Proverbs 19:6 says "many will entreat the favor of a liberal man.' Isaiah 32:5 says 'The vile person shall be no more called liberal, nor the churl said to be bountiful.' Isaiah 32:8 says 'But the liberal deviseth liberal things; and by liberal things shall he stand.'"

"What about You, though? What makes You such a liberal?"

"Hey, I was the guy who said that it's going to be easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man like Tim LaHaye to enter the kingdom of heaven. I loved the oppressed masses and hated the oppressors. I was committed to justice for the oppressed, care for the poor and the hungry, healing for the wounded, hospitality to foreigners and immigrants, and good stewardship of the earth. I stood for everything the Christian Right despises as liberalism."

"So what's it going to be--are You going to make sure Tim LaHaye goes to hell when he dies?"

"Well, Al, I have to tell you, things are in transition right now. Nefarious plots are afoot. I'm afraid I'm being squeezed out."

"Out? What, of heaven?"

"Out of the family."

"The Family? Are You telling me there's some kind of heavenly Mafia?"

"No, the Holy Family. Dad, Mom, and Me. They think my liberalism lost us the election. I have a sneaking suspicion I'm going to be replaced."

"Replaced--with who? With what?"

"God only knows, Al."

"Well, it's been great having You on the show again, Jesus."

"Always a pleasure, Al."

"For Air America, this is Al Franken, signing out."



 

Tim LaHaye: Talk Show "Jesus" an Impostor

Los Angeles (MBDBC) -- Fundamentalist activist and novelist Tim LaHaye, 72, thundered out of the pulpit this past Sunday condemning the imposture of someone calling himself "Jesus Christ" on liberal talk shows recently.

"The idea that this liberal demagogue could be Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ is simply ludicrous," LaHaye cried. "Jesus wasn't a liberal! Jesus was a compassionate conservative! It's right there in the Bible, people! All you have to do is look!"

He went on to mention Bible passages in which Jesus attacked homosexuality, extramarital sex, masturbation, full nudity (even in your own shower), contraception, and marital sex in anything other than the missionary position or more than once a month.

"Jesus was behind the reelection of our great President, George W. Bush," LaHaye continued. "Millions of born-again Christians prayed to Him, and He answered their prayers."

He added, "The landslide victory Jesus gave President Bush is all the evidence we need--even if it wasn't clearly stated in the Bible, people!--that He is in favor of perpetual holy war against God's enemies, the removal of all restrictions on gun ownership, and the creation of a single-party Christian theocracy in America with George W. Bush as theocrat for life."

LaHaye further confessed that Jesus Himself had appeared to him and his wife Beverly in their Southern California home late Saturday night and confirmed precisely these doctrines.

"And I have to tell you, brothers and sisters," LaHaye concluded, "that He didn't look happy. He was, in fact, quite red with anger--righteous anger at the imposture of some liberal traitor pretending to be Himself."

LaHaye, cofounder with Jerry Falwell in 1979 of the Moral Majority, is better known today as the "theologian" behind the bestselling Left Behind series. LaHaye works out the plot of each novel and gives it to his coauthor Jerry Jenkins to write. The runaway popularity of the series among fundamentalist Christians--those who don't want to be "left behind"--has netted each of them upwards of $10 million.

LaHaye and his wife are both 1950 graduates of fundamentalist Bob Jones University.


 

At Allah's Front Door

Yahweh knocks on Allah's front door. He hears noises inside, but no one comes to the door. He knocks again. Rustle, rustle, but another long wait. He knocks a third time.

Finally the door opens. There stands Allah himself in shorts, a t-shirt saying INSH'ME, and a frayed straw hat. Under each arm giggles a scantily clad virgin.

"What, Yahweh," Allah says crabbily. "What you want."

Yahweh cranes his neck to look past them into the house. "Is, uh, Arafat here yet?"

"No," Allah says, and tries to close the door.

Yahweh places a big palm against the door, leans in. "Where is he?" he says. "I thought he'd be here by now."

Allah sighs. His shoulders slump around the virgins. "I think so too," he says. "Look. You want come in? Come in."

"No, no, that's okay," Yahweh says.

"What you want with Arafat?" Allah says.

"I might have a job for him," Yahweh says.

"What kind job?" Allah says. "Why Arafat want work for you, God of Israel?"

"Oh," Yahweh says, "I think it might be just the kind of thing he'd be interested in. Once he gets his bearings and stuff."

"I tell him you ask," Allah says, "when he is arriving. Now--"

Again Yahweh stops the door. "Listen," he says, "on a different note, if you don't mind my asking, what exactly do you do with those virgins you've got there?"

Allah rolls his eyes. "Always with the sex questions from you. I really--"

"Okay, okay," Yahweh says, taking his hand off the door and stepping back. "Don't tell me. Fine. I was just asking, sheesh."


Tuesday, November 09, 2004

 

The Paternity Suit

There's a noise behind him. Yahweh turns. Mary stands there like Bette Davis in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?, swaying, bottle in hand.

"Hon?" he says.

"How could you do thish to me," she says.

"You're going to have to be more specific, Mary," Yahweh says. "I'm not a mind-reader."

"After all theshe millennia," Mary says. The bitterness in her voice is tired, almost flat.

"If you want me to play guessing games," Yahweh says, "you'll need to give me a hint."

"Creator of the Univershe. Omnishhhient. Hah!" She goes to spit contemptuously, but coughs up a little ball of vomit instead. They look at it glistening there on the throw rug for a minute in silence.

"I'm guessing I hurt your feelings somehow," Yahweh says. "But look, if I've told you once, I've told you a billion times, desert gods don't apologize. Get over it."

"Get over you," Mary says.


"Uh, hon," Yahweh says, "maybe you'd better give the drink a rest. We can talk about this when you sober up. Hm?"

"Omnipotent, that'sh more like it," Mary continues. "He can't read minds, but he can stick his thing in anything that moves."

"Who can?" Yahweh says.

"YOU can!" Mary yells, and now it all comes up. Vomit sprays out of her in a bright rainbow fountain. "You--shon of a bitch!" she pants, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "You--I hate you!"

"Wait," Yahweh says. "Let me get this straight. You think I cheated on you?"

"I know you did!" Mary wails. "Over and over and over! Why do you think I've been drinking?"

"You have got to be kidding," Yahweh says indignantly--though not without a tiny worm of guilt at lusting after other women in his heart. "I've never once had sex with anybody--not even you!"

"You musht think I'm shtupid," Mary says. "I've got picturesh!" And she pulls a manila envelope out of her bathrobe, hurls it in the vomit at Yahweh's feet. He picks it up gingerly.

What he sees makes his blood boil. A fairly good likeness of himself in compromising positions with hot teens, MILFs, grannies and trannies, of all shapes, sizes, and colors.

That slimy bastard Satan has done all this in the week since the election? He must've had the pictures taken himself, sent them to Mary--but why? What's his angle? Isn't he afraid of undermining his imposture with the Christian Right?

Yahweh guides Mary to bed, thinking: I have got to get that Yahweh suit away from him.


Monday, November 08, 2004

 

Hard Choices

Yahweh comes in, starts to throw Mary her cigarettes, and notices that she’s almost emptied the bottle of gin, and her head is on the table, drool puddling around her slack jaw. Jesus is nowhere to be seen, and the Holy Ghost had been outside watering the lawn. He puts the cigarettes on the counter by the fridge.

Note on the fridge: “Gone to get my hair and nails done for our court appearance. Back soon. J.”

Yahweh, sighs, gets a beer out of the fridge, and carries his nachos into the den. He stretches out in his La-Z-Boy and digs up a nacho with a fat jalapeno on it. He takes a swig of beer and begins to think.

Another kid. Why not? Maybe a girl this time. He’d taken a beating from the female voters. A girl might help that. But then what about the Trinity? Bump Jesus out? Make it a Quartety? And, who to impregnate? That’s a problem. Does she have to be Jewish this time? Maybe a nice Japanese girl. Or an Eskimo. An African. Yeah, an African. That would help him win that continent. Or would it?

He flipped on the television. There was a show on about the election. “Yahweh lost big among female voters and the young, who feel that he’s dried up and out of touch. Meanwhile, exit polls continue to show that voters, especially parents, feel that Yahweh isn’t the best match with their moral values. Many voters expressed discomfort with the amount of smiting that Yahweh had been doing as of late, feeling that perhaps he was getting soft and less virile…” Click.

Maybe. Maybe it was time for a change of image. Another kid. A few smitings. Maybe lose a few pounds. Dye the hair and beard.

He ate another nacho and had another swig of beer. But another kid with who? Who?

 

The Seed Is Planted

So Yahweh runs into Zeus in line at the 7-11-Heaven.

“Yahweh! What’s up? Out of cigarettes and nachos again, I see. What, no condoms?”

“You’re funny. I don’t use condoms. And these cigarettes are for Mary.”

“You don’t use condoms because you don’t have sex. At least not real sex.”

“Whaddya mean, ‘real’ sex?”

“Like getting hot and nasty with some lonely shepherdess you spot while floating on a cloud.”

“Have sex with a human? Outrageous! Disgusting! Nothing good can come of it.”

“C’mon, Yahweh. You know you’ve wanted to try it. I mean, really try it. Put on a disguise, and go down there, and do the horizontal bop with some cute human.”

“You mean, butt naked? In bed? Gross! I prefer the sanitary method of producing children. And one's enough. Just someone to carry on the family name.”

“If you tried it, you’d like it. Trust me.”

“You’re a pervert, Zeus. A real whacko. No wonder nobody voted for you. No wonder they all voted for those amendments outlawing human-deity sex. No telling what diseases you're spreading.”

“Hey, Yahweh, you talk. I hear you’re all lawyered up, demanding a recount.”

“I can’t talk about that.”

Clerk speaks up. “Hey, buddy, you gonna buy that stuff or what?”

“Hey, I gotta go anyway, Yahweh. I’m thinking I might go scouting for a nice human to seduce today, in disguise. Make some more demi-gods. Hah! Got 23 now, working on making a few hundred more. You should try it, I’m telling ya.”

“Damn pervert,” Yahweh mutters. But inside, he’s thinking. Why not another kid? And not with that damn drunken Mary, either, but someone more, well... someone nicer.

Zeus heads for the whipped cream and mayonnaise.


 

Holy Family demands recount, decries use of DieLuge "phlogiston machines" to cast votes, as voters' exit polls show that the Holy Family lost on the morals and values issues, such as protecting their children from lustful goats, and the idea of a constitutional amendment forbidding sex between humans and gods. Posted by Hello