(Editor’s note: Originated slated as a press conference, the following is a prepared statement submitted in lieu of the aforementioned face-to-face session.)
(Editor’s note: It seems someone has a new meaning for bunk.)
Right-hand District of Kingdom of Heaven – Good afternoon! For those who don’t know me, I am known by many names: Immanuel, Lamb of God, The Alpha and Omega, King of the Jews, Wonderful Counselor, Prince of Peace, but you can call me Jesus.
I figured it was time to settle the disputes surrounding the validity of certain humourous anecdotes which have crept into the compendium of tales about my final days on planet earth.
First up is the one about the Last Supper. The guys and I had decided to have one last rager at our favourite restaurant. It was in fact Simon the Zealot who requested a table for 26. The maitre d’ questioned the actual number after examining our crew, and Simon joked, “We all like to sit on the same side!” Oh, I thought we were going to piss ourselves; we laughed so hard.
The next two alleged incidents need some clarification.
First of all, although from the top of Calvary Hill I should have been able to see Paul’s house, I was actually facing the wrong direction. Secondly, although beavers called coypu do exist, at no time was my cross tilted, nor did I curse the beavers. I suspect an unwitting Canadian invented that particular falsehood.
Now, in the modern era, I quite enjoy the irony involved in this next story.
It involves a local man-in-the-street newsperson questioning passersby. The question du jour requires respondents to reveal their understanding of meaning of Easter. The first answer is predictably wrong as she describes the events of Halloween. The second response, from an obvious non-believer, mistakes the events of surrounding my birth for those of my death, and is dispatched.
The ultimate inquisitee offers, “Is it that time in the spring when a guy was killed, and put in a cave?”
“Yes,” says the questioner with enthusiasm.
“Then three days later, he emerges?”
“Yes, yes!” the ecstatic reporter interjects.
“Then he sees his shadow, and goes back in the cave!”
I think the lack of authenticity in that yarn is rather obvious.
To close out this episode, I would like to finish off with a narrative of my own for which I can assure you did happen.
Bored with answering an untold number of prayers one day, I strolled out by the Pearly Gates to get away from the office. Of course, Saint Peter is on duty as expected.
“Hey, Jesus,” he offered unenthusiastically.
It appeared to me he needed some time-off too, so I offered him a well-earned break.
Right after Pete left, I couldn’t help but notice an elderly gentlemen standing back a bit, but gazing through the gates.
I asked, “May I help you, sir?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I am looking for my son.”
At this point, I have to tell you that I hadn’t seen Joseph for eons, so I excitedly exclaimed, “Father?”
And the old man responded ecstatically, “Pinocchio?”
Padum-pum! Good night, folks, I am here for eternity. Try the latkes.
COPYRIGHT © WASTE OF INC. 2021
2021 04 01