I was downing my 6th or 7th beer, and clicking the remote, when Jesus appeared on channel 777. At first I thought it was a movie, but then He looked straight at me, and said: “Roberto, let’s have a chat son.”
I said, “sure Lord, do you mind if I open another can of Lowenbrau?” Jesus replied, “Go ahead Robbie, tonight is kind of special, the beer we pour must say something more somehow.”
“Robbie? Roberto? You aren’t one of my MND fans are you?” Jesus smiled, “No son, I only read all the news that’s fit to print.”
“OK”, I said, “Do you really speak to Pat Robertson?” Jesus responded, “Of course son, I speak to him every day.” “Wow” I exclaimed, “We’re in deep crap, Pat’s prophecy that terrorists will kill millions of Americans this year must be true.” Jesus sneered, “I told that idiot no such thing. Sure I speak to that Bozo every day, I keep telling him to stop making an ass of himself.”
“Jesus”, I inquired, “I never go to church, I even leer at cute nuns, I don’t help little old ladies cross the street, am I going to hell?” Jesus laughed, “No my son, you are far from perfect, but you aren’t in the same league with the likes of Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell.”
“Jesus”, I meekly inquired, “Is there sex in paradise?” “Oh, yes my son, in heaven the sex is well, heavenly.” “Oh boy”, I said, “I can’t wait!” “My son, who said you were going to heaven? You are spending eternity in Purgatory.”ÂÂÂ
“Jesus, why did you choose me to have a chat with? Do you want me to become a missionary or dedicate my life to minister to those in need?” “Heavens no”, Jesus replied. “I just wanted to let you know that one day you will write for the most popular periodical in the world.” “Thank you Lord”, I almost shouted, “It’s always been my dream to write for the New York Times. “The Times”, Jesus snorted. “Ha, it’s the National Enquirer that’s going to hire you one day.”
Jesus Christ, what a nightmare! I clicked the remote to ESPN, and guzzled another beer to attempt to forget my unearthly vision.
