Category: Oh Jesus

Down in the Den

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If you want to come in Hell’s Den, you need to play by the rules:
Leave your shoes outside. Your socks, too.
Cut the knuckles on your left hand with a silver knife.
Knock three times. Two raps, a pause, and then one hard knock.
Really hard. It’s a long way down, and it’s sometimes hard to hear.
Stand back. Door opens fast.
No saints allowed.
Only sinners.
Got diseases? Bad diseases?
Good. The more the better.
But when you come to Hell’s Den, come alone.
Once you’re inside, trust me, you won’t be lonely.
Tell them Jesus sent you.

The Fraud of Turin

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Pausing a moment during his weekly trip to the market to sell the abbey’s wine, Brother Antwelm watched as the lights descended from the sky.
BOOM! Every bottle in the donkey cart shattered!
Then, a roaring dusty whirlwind surrounded him. When it stopped, a glowing dome appeared on the grass nearby.
With a hum, the dome split and a tall figure emerged.
Radiant… magnificent… perfect…
And on fire!
Brother Antwelm grabbed the donkey’s cloth blanket and slapped out the fire.
Sadly, the magnificent figure was crisped. But his image was fused on the blanket.
Antwelm shrugged and continued to Turin.

Praise Jesus and pass the ammunition

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Around here, a crash in the middle of the night is usually a cat or my wife.
I roll over. She’s still asleep. And all three cats are on the bed.
Another noise.
Great.
I pull my gun from the nightstand, flick off the safety, and walk down the hall.
I see a shadow. It moves, and I empty the clip.
A body falls.
I reach for the light switch, flip it on, and discover I’ve just blown away Jesus Christ.
“Maybe they’ll blame Texans this time?” I grumble.
“Not a chance, Christ Killer,” says my wife. “Nice grouping, though.”

Oh, Jesus

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“Barbaras! You’re free!”
The soldiers cut Jesus down.
“But I’m not Barbaras,” said Jesus.
“Get lost, Barbaras,” said the soldiers.
“But… but…’
“GO!” they shouted.
Jesus ran for the hills.

“I’m Barbaras!” shouted the thief from his cross.
“Liar, Nazarene!” said a soldier, spearing him in the gut.

“I guess they got us mixed up,” Jesus mumbled, rubbing his aching palms.
Jesus looked at his reflection in the pond. What a bloody mess.
“The guys are never going to believe this one,” he said. “It’ll be as if… as if…”
Jesus grinned.
“I came back from the dead!”
Laughter.

Get down off the cross, we can see your wood

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My loincloth’s slipping, I’ve got a splitting headache from the heat and the crown of thorns, and there’s not a damned thing I can do about it.
“Help!”
I look down. Mom’s there, crying her eyes out.
“Quit crying, Mom,” I shout down to her. “Get me a towel or something.”
She just kneels and weeps.
Wonderful.
“Shut up, freak!” shouts a soldier. He jabs me with a spear.
“Damn!” I yell. “Asshole!”
That’s when it starts to rain.
“Thanks, Dad,” I mumble Heavenward. “What a fucking shitty day this turned out to be.”
I should have checked my horoscope.

Jesusman!

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All young boys dream of flying, but Jesus really could.
That stuff really scared the crap out of Mary, Joseph, his brothers, and his sisters.
“Do you think we should tell him about the Son Of God thing?” said Mary.
“Absolutely not!” snarled Joseph. “We just need some bigger rocks to tie to his ankles.”
Twenty years later, Mary watched helplessly as they nailed her son to a wooden cross.
She wasn’t worried about him dying, though. She was just hoping the cross was heavy enough to keep him from flying around with the thing.
The spear wound brought relief.

Take Two Tablets And Pray To Me In The Morning

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Juan and his burro Steve went up the mountain to pick coffee beans.
A bush was on fire.
“I AM THE LORD JEHOVAH, GOD OF ABRAHAM,” it said.
Juan stared. Steve brayed.
“I HAVE TEN NEW COMMANDMENTS FOR MY CREATION!”
“Que?” said Juan.
The bush rustled.
“OH GREAT,” it said. ” DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?”
“Que?” said Juan.
“YOU… SPEAKA… ENGLISH?” the bush said, slower and louder.
“No habla,” said Juan.
“SHIT,” said the bush. “NEVER MIND THEN.”
Juan stared.
The flames grew. “LEAVE! GO! GET YOUR ASS OUT OF HERE!”
No more weed before harvesting, thought Juan, running away.

The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln 6

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The preacher shouted hellfire upon the congregation, waving his arms like a madman. He kept a stack of bibles by his pulpit, and he’d throw them at exhausted parishioners.
Twenty feet above, Abraham clung to the rafters.
He’d staked out this church for weeks, testing his drops and marking spots with chalk.
Wait for it… wait for it…
NOW!
The rafter creaked under his weight. The hive slipped from his grasp and fell on the choir director.
Oh well, he thought. When I hear a choir play, I like to see them act as if they were fighting bees, too.

The Saved And The Blessed

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I look up, and I see the Face Of God in the angry, boiling skies.
I look down, and there’s piles of clothes everywhere. A few unguided cars roll into streetlamps or bushes.
Rapture? Well, isn’t that nice. Bye bye, fundamentalists.
I’m sure that a few houses will start to burn because ovens have been left on. Or planes will crash because pilots have vanished and cockpit doors are locked these days.
My next-door neighbor’s empty Armani suit in a pile. In his driveway.
Next to his lovely, perfect Ferrari.
I may not be Saved, but I am truly blessed.