It was early Sunday morning, and Jesus had been laying on his back, looking down the bridge of his nose and picking through his beard, trying to remove any loose pubes from the previous nights festivities. By now, his diciples had all become accustomed to spending long, wild evenings at J’s place. Of course, although there were 12 diciples, several hundreds of grubby hangers-on with no direction would lay around his compound, in sloppily built lean-to’s, looking for free soup or blow. The group became known as Occupy Bethlehem, and everyone hated them.
Jesus was known around town as a below average carpenter but a hard worker. In those days, there were only two ways to make money: Swing a hammer, or give out “blajoejays” (blowjobs) down at the park. He wasn’t opting for number two unless he lost both arms in a horrible cross building accident. He hated to think about such accidents, but were it to happen, he supposed he would be most upset at never being able to pinata again. Ironically, one day, Jesus became aware that he was building his own cross. You’d think with that kind of knowledge in advance, you wouldn’t build one so sturdy, or may have included a hidden compartment where you could hide a gun, ten grand, and a phony passport. Unfortunately for Jesus, he wasn’t uber-intelligent, like Jack Bauer or Alex Trebek.
He collected his diciples for a quick meeting and said “We need to do something about these Occupy Bethlehem assholes. They’re glomming onto our success and telling broads that they’re part of a movement, all for the sake of plunging into poontanna. And you guys thought I despised the Guatemalans and Mexicans for hanging around the hardware stores looking for work? They’re under cutting us on labor costs, they don’t take smoke breaks, and they work until sundown. At least they have some fucking work ethic. It’s 7am on a Sunday and the parking lot at Home Depot looks like a Los Lonely Boys concert. Everyone get out of my site and do not return without a plan for erradicating those shitbags.”
Jesus stood on his balcony, closed his eyes and looked upwards towards heaven and took a deep breath. He could smell the flowers, the fruit, and the mackerel from the market below. Once he realized there were no fish that day, he said “I have to shave this god damn beard.”