And God said, Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear. And God called the dry land Earth; and the gathering together of the waters called the Seas. And God said, Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after his kind. And the earth brought forth grass and herb yielding seed and God saw that it was good. And the evening and the morning were the third day.

It was such a joyous morning. Jesus Christ was lounging in his vinyl lawn chair when I brought him his morning coffee, but he looked even smaller than I had remembered. He appeared to be about five foot now and weighed less than a hundred pounds, yet he appeared more muscular-

"Than a man my age?" Jesus Christ laughed. "Remember, I am omniscient. And to be precise, I'm five foot one and a half and weigh ninety-seven pounds-which is another reason I love prancing around in the all-together. Have you ever gone shopping for a man my size? Boys' clothes, yes, but men's clothing is hardly high fashion."

"How do you explain the Gucci? The Armani? From yesterday?"

"They're nothing but fabrications of your mind, Scot. Each human pictures the Lord Thy God in whatever manifestation that's best for you. Some picture me in a loin cloth dangling on the cross, others picture me wearing swaddling clothes, or me wearing that Me-awful robe . . . you know the one: in Da Vinci's Last Supper. Thank Me! At least you have a fashion sense!"

In less than an eye blink Jesus and I were in my kitchen-for some strange reason I dared not ask, Jesus seemed to like my kitchen more than any other room of my house.

"It's not difficult," Jesus said. "No one's offered me a bite to eat since my resurrection." Jesus looked a little dejected, "They eat my body and drink my blood just about every day of the week, but they never reciprocate."

"You know the folks who created the Buddha were much kinder than you Christians. The worshipers of the Buddha bring him food every day-I'm lucky to get a few carnations placed on the feet of the statuary linking the great cathedrals of the world."

Meanwhile, I drained the six strips of well-done bacon and flipped a half dozen pancakes. Jesus Christ seemed overly impressed that I could flip them with a twist of my wrist.

"I've always wanted to hone up my culinary skills," Jesus Christ said. "Perhaps you'd be kind enough to show me how to flip something off so well."

I was beginning to love this Christ's use of double entendre.

And speaking of the 'finger', you should have heard my girlfriend and I playing four-hand Mozart, I thought.

"Bring it," Jesus Christ laughed in his house-shaking laugh, "but let's have flapjacks first."

"Bacon or sausage," I asked as I popped a half dozen Jimmy Deans into the frying pan. "Oh my God, I didn't mean to offend you. You are Jewish, aren't you?"

"Was."

"In one of my later incarnations. I'm a Me-an now."

"A Me-an?"

"A follower of myself. After all these years, I still don't feel comfortable calling myself a Christian so I'm just a Me-An, although I'm sure you're not a 'Scotian', right?"

I laughed. And Jesus laughed louder. Ah, what the hell, I thought. Tomorrow we'll skip the pancakes, eggs and bacon and go straight for the beer.

"That's the best thought you've had all day," Jesus Christ laughed. "Keep me in six-packs and I'm yours forever."

"Did the sound of my grandfather clock bother you last night," I asked as I flipped a half dozen pancakes and fried another half-pound of bacon. "Milk, juice or coffee?"

Jesus Christ's silk pajamas bottoms rustled as he glided from the fridge where he was chugging a beer to the kitchen table.

"I thought you preferred to be nude," I said.

"I do," Jesus Christ said, "I just wanted to make sure you were in your comfort zone-a morning without beer can be treacherous."

"Feel free to wear whatever you want-or don't want. You're a guest in my house-it's not the other way around."

"I thought you were an atheist."

"I am."

"Be careful, Jesus Christ said, "That's my name."

"I am?"

"That's me!" Jesus Christ slid a Bible across the table, "It's the King James Version-quite archaic and totally out of date-but it's the only one I swiped from the Howard Johnson and kept hidden in the secret compartment of my silk pajamas," Jesus Christ let out such a roar of laughter that I fell even more deeply in love with him.

"What's your favorite verse in the Bible?" I asked

"That's easy," Jesus said, "It's Leviticus 13: 82."

I opened my Bible. "There is no verse 82." I said.

"I know," Jesus said. "Those damned Catholics used the control-alt-delete keys on it! Pope Digory the Ninth campaigned for the popehood on the motto: 'The Purpose of God's Holy Ordinance of Matrimony is procreation." Jesus Christ was laughing now.

"What?" I asked

"Such bullshit," Jesus Christ said, "even the bloody Mormons believe that crap."

"So what was the deleted verse?" I asked.

"The control-alt-deleted verse?" Jesus squinted up his eyes as if looking deep within his soul, "He who marries and does not procreate within a year of marriage, shall be taken outside the city and stoned-he and his wife and all his kindred," Jesus Christ said.

"Ah. . . why would anyone cut out that verse?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"They ran out of stones."

We both rolled with laughter-Jesus Christ on the ceiling, me on the floor looking up at his writhing wriggling willy wobbling in the morning light.

Then Jesus opened his Bible to Exodus chapter three, verse fourteen. "Read this," Christ said.

"And God said unto Moses, I AM THAT I AM: and he said, thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, I AM hath sent me unto you."

"That's me," Jesus Christ said, "I am that I am."

"Nice," I said. But what does that mean in English?

This is English-the finest, albeit screwiest, translation known to modern man . . .but it's also the finest."

"Screwiest? Finest? No offense, but, Christ," I think I meant his name more as an expletive than as a title as my eyes automatically scurried to the ceiling dreading what was to come, "and please don't send any more lightning bolts crashing over my house!" I looked out the garden window as fast as I dared, hoping the sky wasn't darkening, the lightning wasn't crashing, hoping my house and my sanity would remain intact.

Jesus touched his fingers together-like my aunt Hazel used to do when I was five years old and spoke as softly as my auntie had when she wanted me to remember her words forever: "All words go together, Scot. Even with the occasional oxymoron."

"Okay," I said, as I quickly flipped off the rest of my pancakes and headed to the fridge for the day's first six-pack. "May I?"

Jesus Christ nodded and I brought over a six pack for each of us. "This should be enough to start our day."

"Indubitably." Jesus Christ popped a tab and inhaled his first beer, then his second, his third, and his fourth.

"I'm so glad we have this time together, Scot. You don't know how many of my believers feed me those shitty saltines and tiny sips from five-dollar bottles of wine," Jesus Christ laughed again-and I joined in, even though I didn't know why. . . but I did know that after a few beers, my sense of frivolity increased rapidly.

"And those mothers are just the Catholics," Jesus Christ said. "The Protestants, on the other hand," Jesus Christ burped loudly, inhaled his last two beers and looked wistfully at the fridge, as I took the hint and sidled over to grab another six-pack for him.

"Where was I?" Jesus Christ asked.

"Something about the Protestants," I burped.

He belched.

I belched.

He farted.

He won. After all, he was the Lord God of Israel, Moses, and King David, wasn't he,I and no man to fart at.

"Those damned Protestants think I'm happy with a few chopped up slices of stale bread and a thimble full of Welch's Grape juice."

"Aren't you?" I giggled.

"Nah. You know me. Couple dozen beers a day and I'm fit to live with . . .less than that and . . . "

"Well, we don't want to go there do we?"

I noticed the sky darkening.

"I'm afraid you're out of luck this morning. At least until I get down to the Piggly-Wiggly. That was my last six-pack."

"You do have water, don't you?"

We both laughed so loudly that I heard the neighborhood dogs howling their response.

"You're funny." I said as I farted louder than Jesus Christ had a few moments before.

"So are you," Jesus Christ tooted.

"Let me get some more water," I said. "No offense, but if you were a female, I'd marry you."

"Perhaps I am." Jesus Christ said.

"Not with that schlong," I laughed.

"True," Jesus Christ said. "You know, Scot, there are so many things I like about you."

"And the chief one is?"

"That you have an unending supply of water."

"That and my good looks will get you far."

"I'm not kidding this time," Christ said. "You are the first human being I've ever met who has a genuine sense of humor-not even my beloved Johnny Cakes was that funny."

"Funny? Or funny looking?"

"A little of both," he said, "let me help you with the dishes. I hope you have enough beer to wash them with."

"You mean water."

"Right!"

I started laughing uncontrollably.

"Fill me in," Jesus Christ said.

"Those are my thoughts precisely," I said. I looked toward the dozen empty beer bottles in front of him "May I?"

"Indubitably."

I brought the bottles to the sink and filled them with water. "Not very cold," I said. "Do you have a miracle for that, as well."

"Indubitably."

I like you more when you're drunk," I said.

"Me too," Jesus said. "I like myself best when I AM because that is my name, drunk as a skunk."

We both giggled and he grabbed me squeezing me like that old accordion I had played when I was ten, and he rubbed his hands down my PJs, down, down-

"I gotta pee." I said. "I gotta pee real bad."

"You Earthlings still do that?"

We both roared.

"I have a one-holer."

"I hope it's not holier than me!"

"A one-holer," I mumbled, "means I only have one toilet, but you go first, after all, you are my guest."

"And being your guest, I shall," Jesus Christ said, as he staggered down the hall towards the bathroom and I began scrubbing out the frying pan and wiping down the stove and wondered what to have for dinner.

"Steak," Jesus Christ yelled from the bathroom, amid a torrent of an Iguassu Falls of piss, "mashed potatoes, steamed carrots and homemade biscuits. I've heard heavenly praises about your homemade buttermilk biscuits!"

"Don't forget to flush." I yelled.

"I always flush," Jesus Said. Dad taught me that lesson when he parted the Red Sea."

A torrent of water erupted from the bathroom and I hurried down the hall, hoping I could make it to the toilet before I peed my pants. Luckily I made it with seconds to spare. When I returned to the kitchen, Jesus Christ was filling the cat litter pan with beer. "You've used up more water than Noah," I said.

"So tell me more about the King's College-that's where you learned most about real Christianity."

"We all had to sign a pledge at King's promising to shun the real world and live spiritually and that meant no drinking, smoking, gambling, using illegal drugs, attending the theatre, listening to Rock and Roll, playing cards and dancing. Those were all considered sins."

"It's hard to play cards and dance at the same time, isn't it?

We rolled on the ceiling this time in rapturous rambunctiousness that we kicked over the litter pan filled with beer and wet our pants so shot our first loads of the day-gloriously, of course.

"Is that where you learned about Noah?" Jesus asked.

"Actually, I grew up in a very sheltered family-my local church was a labyrinth of murky rules and regulations. We memorized most of the scripture dealing with salvation and quizzed each other on the minutest meanings of every word in the Bible. Do you know who the smallest man in the Bible was?" I asked.

"Luke! He had about three inches," Jesus Christ responded as he spread his fingers exactly that many inches apart, keeping his face as straight as I'd ever seen.

"I don't mean that. I mean the shortest man."

"I have no idea," Jesus Christ said. "After all, I didn't write it; I have enough trouble reading it."

"It's the only way I really found out much about me, you know. Dad and the Spook stopped talking to me after I walked on water. 'You think you're all grown up now, don't you?' Dad said as the Spook whacked me across my buttocks. 'The next time you decide to go fishing, stay in the boat-otherwise humans will think you're Mister Big or something."

"GOT IT?" Dad shouted. "Well, let me tell you from that morning on out I was careful with my Ps and Qs. There was no more walking on the water on my calendar. No sirree. No more miracles, other than those that were predestined. Dad's got a big strap you know."

I didn't know if Jesus was joking or not so I waited to see if he'd start laughing. When he didn't, I realized how fragile a relationship he had with his father. How sad, I thought, Freud wasn't born until well after the nativity. Otherwise, there might have been some social intercourse in the Holy Trinity, but the more I listened to my new best friend, the more I realized his family was just as fucked up as mine.

"Not a chance," Jesus Christ said. "Remember, we're not the oldest godhead and I'm nowhere near the front of the line when it comes to rising from the dead. More than a dozen rose from the dead long before I tried it. . . not to mention the millions across the universe."

"I thought you were kidding about being a lesser god," I said.

"The Me, Myself and I never kid-at least not about higher powers and we are the pipsqueaks of the universes' filled with gods," Jesus Christ said. "But we were talking about Noah, weren't we? He was always one of my favorites. Probably the carpenter training I had up in LaLa Land at Al's Boat House and Bait Shop. . . or maybe because of that damned walking on the water incident, but at any rate, Noah was one of my all time favs."

"So how much of the story is true?"

"Do you want to know the way I see it or the way most of my followers see it?"

"You're my guest, Jesus, I'd like to hear your spin on it."

"Well, think it through logically. A man spends a hundred and twenty years building an ark large enough to carry a male and female of every single species-plus seven males and seven females of the clean animals-whatever in the hell that means, and at the end of his labors, he, his wife (who must be as horny as hell after waiting for her husband to finish a project consuming a hundred and twenty years of a Viagra-free life), his three sons and their three wives, get on an ark they've loaded with five or ten million animals."

"What?"

"Ok, let's just say, for argument's sake, think it through the way most of you earthlings do-forget math, forget logic, even though your scribes set the number. Just how many different animal species do you think there were back then-and how did Noah get crocodiles and iguanas and llamas on his ark? Bible believers are unable to think logically and that, dear Scot, scares the hell of me. So back to the script-make believe Noah only had to take two hundred males and two hundred females of each animal, and enough food and water to feed them and enough stables and sties and toilets. Just how big was this floating boat that could hold all that make believe crap?"

"I was taught that all things are possible in your heavenly world, right?"

"Sure, if we happen to be on your planet at the time, but you have to remember we have a hundred billion galaxies that each have a hundred billion stars-and more planets and a trillion other gods than even I could count; besides telling your fantasies from your Bible isn't rocking my boat right now. The Spook and Dad didn't have time to lounge around Bimini for two hundred years like I did-and when I leave here-I leave here . . . for good."

Jesus looked piqued.

"I hope you understand that!"

"I thought you took special interest in the saved." I said.

"Saved? Like they were on the ark? Or saved like, hallelujah, praise Myself? Do you honestly believe all those who 'believe in Me' are going to end up in LaLa Land, pick up a halo, walk on golden streets and commune with Noah, his couple of hundred fucking animals, and all the other patriarchs, do you?"

"It does sound a bit unrealistic, doesn't it?"

"Just a tad." Jesus responded. "Look at Genesis, chapter eight. . . that always gives me a big laugh."

I turned the pages and quickly found the passage Jesus Christ had mentioned: "'And God remembered Noah, and every living thing, and all the cattle that was with him in the ark: and God made a wind to pass over the earth, and the waters assuaged.'"

"That assuaged bit always gets me," Jesus Christ laughed. "When was the last time you assuaged anything? Or even got away with it in a Scrabble game?"

We both laughed so loudly it was difficult for me to continue, but finally, after slurping up the remainder of the beer in the cat litter pan, I read on. "'The fountains also of the deep and the windows of heaven were stopped, and the rain from heaven was restrained; And the waters returned from off the earth continually: and after the end of the hundred and fifty days the waters were abated."

"That's six months of cattle shit, lion roaring, and chicken clucking colophony, if you can believe it." Jesus was rolling on the ceiling now, naked as a jaybird, rubbing his ass so close to the ceiling fan that I thought we'd end up with rump roast for dinner.

"I'd prefer steak," Jesus Christ giggled, "other than my own."

"My rump is quite safe. Remember, you fucked the shit out of it last night and it's been nailed to a tree and has been struggling to get itself out of the Shroud of Turin for the past four hundred years. It's been places, seen things, and sat on things you never want to know about."

I bit my lip and continued reading, trying to refocus my mind from Jesus's glorious ass I had fucked not once but twice last night "'And the ark rested in the seventh month upon the mountains of Ararat. And the waters decreased continually until the tenth month, where the tops of the mountains were seen. And it came to pass at the end of forty days, that Noah opened the window of the ark which he had made, and he sent forth a raven, which went forth to and fro, until the waters were dried up from off the earth. Also he sent forth a dove from him, to see if the waters were abated from off the face of the ground; but the dove found no rest for the sole of her foot, and she returned unto him into the ark, for the waters were on the face of the whole earth: then he put forth his hand, and took her, and pulled her in unto him into the ark. And he stayed yet other seven days; and again he sent forth the dove out of the ark; and the dove came in to him in the evening; and, lo, in her mouth was an olive leaf pluckt off: so Noah knew that the waters were abated from off the earth. And he stayed yet another seven days; and sent forth the dove; which returned not again unto him anymore. And it came to pass in the six hundredth and first year, in the first month, the first day of the month, the waters were dried up from off the earth: and Noah removed the covering of the ark, and looked, and, behold, the face of the ground was dry.'"

"Right," Jesus Christ said, "this Noah and his family, along with specimens of every single animal that ever lived, including the various and sundry species of dinosaurs the fundamentalists believe in, walked merrily off the ark. And they ate . . WHAT?"

I jumped back and devoured another pancake, which was still warm from sitting on the stove, "Nothing," I said, after finishing the last morsel. "There was nothing for any living creature to eat. My God, I can't even figure out how many months they were on the ark. How on earth could there be anything growing after all that time? No corn, no wheat, no trees, no-" I grew pale.

"It took you long enough," Jesus Christ said as he and I spoke the same thought aloud, "Just what did the meat-eating animals eat if there were only two of each species?"

"There are obviously a few holes in the theory." Jesus Christ said.

"I mean I didn't write that crap, okay. Dad and I were visiting a ski resort on Nebus, in the Andromeda Galaxy when all that was written, so we didn't get any chance to edit it before Moses and Hyman wrote it down."

"Hyman?"

"Ah," Jesus Christ said. "Most Christians think Moses wrote the Pentateuch. Ha. What a laugh. He had a small part to do with it, but to be honest, the Hebrew alphabet was pretty damned new at the time and he could only chisel out so many stones before he lost the use of his right hand altogether."

"Chisel out? I thought God wrote the Ten Commandments."

"Right. And created Eve from Adam's rib, and built a ladder to LaLa Land for Jacob, and sent a fiery chariot down to rescue Elijah?"

"Remember, there was a gang of story tellers in those days . . . still are if you watch the televangelists on TV. Have you ever really listened to Pat Robertson or Peter Popov? So full of shit. But they like to tell stories. Your race always has."

"So, imagine what my life's been like-me, Dad, and the Spook. Everywhere we went, every time we bought a copy of Play Girl or whacked off in the bathroom, there was a man with a chisel. . . or a quill pen to rewrite our history. That was acceptable while we lived in the Stone Age, but Scot when we reached the Modern Era, all hell broke loose and ended up with the National Inquirer, the paparazzi, and the faith healers recording everything I did."

"So that's why you hid out on Bimini?"

"I couldn't even eat a ham and cheese sandwich without fending off a dozen photographers."

"I thought you were Jewish."

"Was Jewish . . . remember."

"The cross changed all that."

"Do you have any idea what it's like running from the paparazzi as I hid in closets waiting 'til four in the morning to sneak out?"

"I couldn't even have a decent sex life-every time I found a Peter or Dick, I had to tug my pants back up and run like hell."

"I see your point," I said. "So the Bible is wrong?"

"Let's just say the multitude of story tellers cleaned up most of the stories about me . . . that was before the Internet of course-and before your generation found more fun in watching Donald Trump than in reality.

"I see."

"That's what the blind man said to me a month before I was crucified."

"You're making that up . . . right?"

"More or less. But just to prove my point. Humans love to make up stories-especially about things they don't know-and they have no clue as to the nature of the gods."

"Then tell me the answer. That is the oldest question, isn't it?"

"Actually. 'to get to the other side.'"

"What."

"The answer to the oldest question."

"The second oldest question is how do I get into my girlfriend (or boyfriend)'s pants?"

"We both know the answer to that-"

"Practice, practice, practice," Jesus and I said simultaneously.

"But what's the answer to the nature of God question?"

"I am that I am," Jesus Christ bellowed. I thought we'd already discussed that. Remember the verse I quoted: 'I am that I am.' And as your fundies would say, 'The Bible says it, I believe it, that settles it!'"

"But it doesn't settle it, does it? So tell me, what is your nature. . . I know, I know, you are what you are, but so was Popeye."

"Scotty Boy, you are fresher than a bag of spinach."

"I know."

But at least you didn't bellow-or wield down any more bolts of lightning."

"That's because I like you. I really like you."

"You and Sally Fields."

"Did you see that? That was thirty years ago and I Sally hasn't lived that down yet."

"Exactly my point."

"Once a legend-especially one about the Myselfhead, and the nature of Me, Myself and I-it's impossible to shake . . . well-" Jesus Christ laughed loudly. "Pop and I did manage to destroy several hundred of those damned Egyptian, Greek and Cretan texts. That was cool."

"And they talked about the nature of God?"

"More or less-and some were more creative than your own tales, but we burned 'em to a crisp."

This time I laughed. "So you started the fire at the library of Alexandria?"

"Exact-a-mundo."

"And destroyed countless Greek plays, treatises on mathematics, philosophy, and science?"

"You read too much," Jesus Christ was rolling naked on the ceiling again, his schlong battering the ceiling fan. "Perhaps I should rename your fan number one from Peter to you." Jesus Christ laughed. "Up to know, he had more of my seed than anyone."

"Fans aren't human," I said, "and I am a hell of a lot more than your fan, aren't I?

Jesus hugged me as he continued, "Right."

"And animals are dumb. And the sun rises and sets. And snow falls from the sky."

"Snow doesn't fall from the sky?"

"It depends a lot on your direction, doesn't it?" the upside-down Jesus said. "Suppose for example," Jesus Christ did a black-flip and landed on his back on the ceiling-his schlong pointing straight down. "From this direction, I would say that snow is falling up.

"No, it isn't-it's still coming straight at you-from above."

The sky darkened and thunder boomed. "Do you dare dispute the word of God?" Jesus Christ asked.

"Well, no, but I do have free will, don't I? And there is science, I have an entire library dedicated to science and history . . . if you'd ever like to read it."

Unfortunately, Dad never taught me or the Holy Spook how to read or write. We've just muddled through."

"Do you mean that the Holy Trinity is illiterate?"

Look at me, for example. I spent the last few hundred years hanging out in the Caribbean. Do you think I bothered to go to night school? Get my GED? Or even worry about learning my ABCs? Hell no. Life's too short for all that chicken shit. Life should be spent with old friends drinking beer, or frolicking in the hay with someone you love, or," Jesus Christ's face lit up like the front side of a full moon, "dancing the tango until dawn after you've run with the bulls in Pamplona."

"I guess, you could put it that way. Pop talks a lot-he's reiterating the history of the universe right now-not much time left, he tells me, we'll be thrown into the Great Cosmos sometime in the next hundred years or so. And then-" Jesus Christ's voice trailed off, "then, you'll be without your gods because all of us will be swept away."

"What in the hell are you talking about. God is God. There is one God. . . well, three. . . two and a half. . . in your case, but God exists eternally. He can never be fucking 'swept away!'"

"Whatever. But sometime on February 22, 2222, all of us will be swallowed up-until we climb back into the void and wait for the next Big Boom."

"Let me get this straight, you and Allah and Buddha and all the other gods are just going to disappear?"

"Yep, 'Behold in a twinkling of an eye.'"

"For a God who doesn't read or write, you sure have a way with the scripture."

"Something Pop beat into me and the Spook. Hebrew School, then private lessons with the Big Guy, then a practicum."

"And by a practicum, I suppose you mean the crucifixion?"

"Nope."

"The practicum was learning how to carve those wooden ducks."

"What?"

"Joseph was a carpenter, I'm sure all Christians know that, but what they don't know is that he spent his days carving wooden ducks. There was a huge market for them back in those days."

I heard the Canadian geese honking outside my window. "Wooden ducks? And that was the extent of your entire education?"

"Yep, just carving ducks and little figurines-mostly sheep and cows. The Egyptians bought those for their tombs."

"So, if an archeologist ever opens a tomb from the early Christian era, he might find one of your sheep or cows?"

"Yep, I signed mine J.C. and my earthly dad signed his J.F. of J.C."

"J. F of J.C. . . . I get it Joseph, father of Jesus Christ. Very funny, but you don't expect me to believe that do-"

"We even carved cats. Amun-Ra was crazy about cats since they were the most worshipped animal in Egypt."

I threw up my hands and started to walk away until I realized it was still my house.

"You cannot walk away from the Lord your God. Even you should know that."

"And what does that mean?"

"That means exactly what you think it means. Do you think you found me in a cardboard box by accident? Hell no! I chose you. I appeared 'unto you.'

"Enough of this chitter-chatter and enough of the beer, I want your cock in my mouth I want to suck you dry and then anoint you with my power and give you enough strength to fuck me until my head rolls.

And the evening and the morning were the third day.


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