A Wonderful Death
"Son? Son! Get in here!"
"Hi, Pops! What's up?"
"Junior, it's finally time for you to go down to
Earth and meet your destiny."
"Great! Let me go get my accordion."
"Uh, no, ummm.... look. Sit down."
"Sure. What's going on?"
"Well, you see, son. We've done some basic market
research and it seems that a savior
who plays polkas all his life and dies of athlerosclerosis
in a rest home in Phoenix doesn't skew well with the
"Where's Phoenix? What's a demographic?"
"Never you mind. All we know is that mortals are
more responsive to guilt than 'Roll Out the Barrel'
as concerning the afterlife goes, so we've had a little
change of plans."
"Uh-oh. Like what?"
going to be born poor..."
"Poor? Do I hafta?"
"All messiah's are born poor, Junior, you know that.
It builds character. And it won't be so bad. You get
to have a pretty good time down there. You know,
drink, screw, knock around in the woodshop, parcel
out a few small miracles to impress the ladies. Or the
call. Best of all, no wife, no kids."
"Until you're thirty-three, that is, then you're going
to die and be reborn as mankind's redeemer."
"Thirty-three's a little younger than I planned,
but that's life. Or death, eh, Pops?"
"Yeah, kid, you're a riot. Now there's something
you ought to know...."
"For technical reasons they're going to execute
you as a criminal... real slow. It's going to take a
and its going
"Now wait a minute! I didn't...."
"Okay, first they're going to whip you bloody,
drive nails through your hands
and feet and then slip a spear into your rib cage a
times. But that's the good news as the punctured lung
will suffocate you in your own blood in a matter
otherwise you'd hang there for days until you died
of thirst or fatigue."
"You'd let them do that?
To your own son?"
"Well, sure. I mean, it was my own idea. Well, actually
everything's my own idea, but I had a focus group in
Indiana iron out the details. I'm tellin' ya, those ladies
in Fort Wayne don't mess around."
"You can be such an asshole, you know?"
"Sorry, it's my job. Any other questions?"
"Yeah, one. I don't suppose it's too late to go Buddhist, is it?"
"That's my boy!
Now let's get transubstantiating. We've got a hot virgin
waiting for us in Nazareth and she won't last long."
"Hot dog! Last one to the womb is a rotten oosphere."