Dear diary,
How low can one sink as a writer? Moreover, I am under no one’s command, thus I can’t even use the excuse of “My boss made me write this awful article.” So when I decide: “Hey I’d like to do one of those super lazy things where we imagine what it would be like if Christ returned to the modern world,” I myself am the only one to blame for how stupid this idea is and how poorly it was executed.
Or maybe you could blame my brain, because it’s like a stubborn mule: it doesn’t want to do anything else today except this one entry.
So, Christ returns to our plague-ridden world. One good thing is that nobody would have to yell at him to “Wear a mask! Don’t you know we’re in a pandemic!?” cuz he would already have a mask on — he would need to use an oxygen tank and strap some type of scuba gear to his face, because his lungs are too weak for our polluted atmosphere. Christ would remark, “What’s wrong with the air here? It’s so much thicker than when I last visited, back in Year Zero; and it tastes really bitter and weird.” And we’d nod and say “Smog, Christ, smog.” And then we’d take him for a tour of the cruise-ship industry, and teach him how a coal-powered tugboat’s engine works.
Then of course we’d need to include a scene where we lose track of where Christ scampered off to, because one minute he’s with us in our big multitude, answering questions about his views on military strategy, and the next minute he has slipped away and is getting into more mischief elsewhere. So we go looking for him, and at last we find him: here he is, in the red-light district of the city, conversing with the owner of a kiosk that sells pornographic magazines. So we’d say “Christ, stay away from that place! That place is bad!” And Christ would answer, “But I came here to save those who are lost, and this guy seems pretty lost to me,” and he would gesture to the owner of the kiosk. And we’d say “You’re not considering the dangerous temptation that you’re subjecting your soul to, by remaining in proximity to such achingly luscious photo-spreads. Just open up one of those porno mags and see for yourself how hard it is to resist their allure. It’s impossible! You’ll find yourself in love with womankind!” And Christ would take the nearest periodical off the shelf and open it up to the glossy centerfold, and he would gasp and say “Be still my throbbing heart.” And he would turn to the kiosk’s owner and say “Sorry, I didn’t realize how tantalizing humans had become. May I ask you to abandon all your possessions and join my movement? — cuz I can’t stay here any longer trying to convert you.” And the fellow would say to Christ, “I understand.”
Then Christ would say to the multitude:
“Dear friends, you look anhungered. Luckily I brought a couple roosterfish and several loaves of bread. These items shall sustain us.” And Christ would command everyone to sit down by companies upon the green grass, in ranks, by hundreds, and by fifties, and to maintain at least twenty-five feet between each individual, so as to comply with the social-distancing regulations, because the respiratory disease that threatens to destroy humankind is borne upon the air and spreads pneumatically, which is to say: spiritually! and it is better to be safe than sorry.
And Christ would take the loaves and the fishes, and look directly up at the sun in heaven, and at exactly that instant an eclipse would transpire, signifying that Christ’s miracle-request had been granted; thus Christ would go back to blessing all the foodstuffs. And he would wear gloves. And he would order an oven to be constructed wherein we, his disciples, might bake the loaves; therefore someone would need to tell him that the loaves are already baked: there is no need to build this oven that you have requested. So he would say “Sorry, I just lost my place in the ritual and was stalling for time. OK now I know what must needs be done.” And he would pass the hard loaves and the slimy fish to his disciples, and tell them to “Pay this forward into the crowd”; and we his disciples would tear the fishes and the loaves into bite-sized chunks, and wrap them in seaweed, and load these morsels into t-shirt canons which had been constructed for the purpose, and we would then launch the edibles into the audience, and they would land in this or that starving person’s mouth, like a cork to a bunghole until everyone is satisfied. Yes, those among the multitudes would dine until they were full; and some would even need to loosen their belts a notch.
And when the event is over, we disciples would act as custodial engineers and go around picking up the trash that was left behind by the multitudes. (For there were thousands of attendees at our event.) And we would recycle what we could. And the amount of garbage that we’d clean from off the grass would total many thirteen-gallon baskets, and they would be filled with crust fragments and bones of fishes.
And during the festival, I’m sure that some people would complain and say “I cannot eat this bread because it has no label specifying whether or not it is gluten-free.” And others would complain about the fish, saying, “Nothing that came from modernity’s oceans can be trusted. All seafood is poisoned nowadays with either toxic levels of mercury, synthetic motor-oil, or splinters of plastic.” And for these people, we would need to order pizzas delivered as an alternative. And we’d ask the chef to split the toppings of the pizzas in twain: “one half meat-lovers and one half vegan”. Then some modern-day Peter would use his cellphone to transfer two hundred pennyworth of bitcoin to the delivery boy.
And Christ would want to visit the mall to buy shoes, because his sandals are outdated. And we’d need to inform him that “Alas, all malls are closed, during this time of airborne illness; they even shut down the Mall of America, which is located in Minnesota.” Then Christ would want to get his hair & nails done, but that would prove impossible as well. So, after all these arguments and letdowns, Christ would feel the urge to dine, and we would roll our eyes & say: “But we just ate — don’t you remember? We had bread-sticks served with garlic dip and broiled cuttlefish.” And Christ would say “Ah, in principle you’re right. But note that we elites forgot to serve ourselves: we were so concerned with getting the multitude of people what they need during this pandemic that we took no thought for our own nourishment. So let’s go to a salad bar at one of those all-you-can-eat buffets.” And yes, you guessed it, we disciples would then need to break the news to Christ that the last place on earth that would be open for business during plague-time is a salad bar, where the only thing protecting each customer from the pathogens that are infesting all the lettuce and vegetables is a flimsy glass divider, which is installed near one’s face at an angle so as to stop the germs from attacking you. And then Christ would sadly say: “Fine, it looks like we have no option left but to fast.”
But then Christ would perk up and add: “However, when we’re fasting, let us not ape what the churchgoers do and sport a very sad countenance: for they disfigure their faces, so that they may appear unto their Creator to resemble knights of sorrowful countenance, as if the LORD can’t see right thru their ruse. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward; for God never stops laughing. But when WE fast, let us anoint our head, and wash our face; so that we’ll appear not to be fasting at all — we can also line our suit-coats with a layer of foam insulation, to appear even paunchier than we authors of scripture are in actuality — but our Guardian Alien who watches us from the skies will see our sufferings, and he will pick up our heart and sniff it, and savor the aroma, and he will replace our heart back into our rib-cage again, and close up the flesh, and remark under his breath “I have seen my son’s suffering in secret and am very well pleased,” and perchance he will then reward us openly with a homemade meal. (Matthew 6:16)
CONCLUSION:
The Roller Derby Miracle
Finally the 2nd Coming of Christ would end with all of us visiting a roller rink. I don’t know how we found one that remained open — perhaps they were breaking the law to serve us: all I know is that it was a blast. We’d all wear our roller skates, and Christ will wear ice skates, and we’ll try to correct him but he’ll brusquely push us away and say “Watch THIS.” Then he’ll command one of the oxen nearby to fetch the garden hose and flood the roller rink. And the ox will hold the green garden hose in his mouth, and he will aim the hose at the rink, so that the water plashes down upon the wooden floorboards and covers the surface thoroughly; and, all the while, this poor ox will be trying to lick the stream with his large flexible tongue, because he loves water.
Then Christ will kneel and lift his face up unto the ceiling lights, and extend his arms and pray: “O mighty Monotheos, you once helped me walk on water, back when Peter was too scared to do so, thus he started to sink and I had to save him. Now I ask you to make this roller rink into a Primeval Ice-Jungle.” And immediately the water would freeze, and its surface would harden and become nice & smooth, and it would develop ramps & jumps everywhere: thus it would be transformed into a Skate Park. And the ox’s tongue would be stuck to the place he was licking.
Now Christ would leap out onto the rink and perform a “figure eight” maneuver (which is, in fact, the symbol for infinity), and then he would do many leaps and pirouettes. “Come on out here and test your skillz, Pete,” Christ would then shout to his rival who remains trembling on the sidelines: “What’s wrong, Satan, are you scared?” And the modern Peter, whose name is actually Clive, would take up this challenge, except he’d forget to swap his roller-blades for ice skates, so when he steps onto the rink, he immediately slips and falls right on his rump. “Ha ha ha!” Christ would laugh. “You SUCK.” And then he’d look at us, his other disciples, and give us the middle finger while he begins to levitate back up into the heavens, and he would crash thru the ceiling on his way up, causing the electric lights to shoot sparks out and catch on fire. “I’m not gonna save ANY of you. You’re all TOAST,” Christ would shout, as he leaves.
Then Christ would fly to the North Pole and steal Santa’s sleigh, so that, before leaving for the outer spaces, Christ could take one final joyride. And he would be holding two AK-47s, one in each arm; and Blitzer the Reindeer would pull the sleigh. And Christ would bless both of his weapons with limitless ammo, so he would never need to reload: thus he would take a victory lap around the globe before returning to his Father, and, as he passes by each house, instead of delivering Xmas gifts, he would gun down all the little children who live there — that is, every soul who is under the age of adulthood, Christ would personally execute as he drives by; and, although he is barely aiming, he would never miss a shot. So he would kill all the children of the world as he leaves, and he would not save anyone.
Before the credits roll, a booming voice would thunder out of heaven Christ’s favorite verses from the biblical Book of Job (39:26-30).
Doth the eagle mount up at thy command, and make her nest on high?
She dwelleth and abideth on the crag of the rock, and the strong place.
From thence she seeketh the prey, and her eyes behold afar off.
Her young ones also suck up blood: and where the slain are, there is she.
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