The Reluctant Jesus: A Satirical Dark Comedy (9 page)

“What happened? What happened?” replied God, sounding perplexed. “Clerical and administrative error, that’s what happened. You’ve guessed it. Lost memo. Some idiot messed up the paperwork. Once again, it boils down to bad and shoddy admin,” God tutted. I wasn’t surprised; it seemed there was a big problem involving paperwork wherever God was based, which I presumed was Heaven, but I was learning that assumption, when dealing with God, was not a wise pastime. God continued: “Anyway, I missed
it;
I know for definite that Saint Peter missed
it,
and obviously Gabriel and the other on-watch angels missed
it.”

“Missed what?” I asked.

“Missed the fact that she wasn’t actually a virgin,” replied God “Textbook error, really. Bad research and bad background work. It transpired that Dave—Dave was the husband,” God clarified for my behalf, “well, Dave had indeed already consummated the relationship, and it seemed that Samantha, the wife, failed to mention this. I don’t blame her; they were delighted to get the job. Gabriel initially did the background check, and it was some of his team who I put on ‘sex watch.’”

“Sex watch?” I asked.

“Sex watch is where I have angels on a twenty-four-hour watch ensuring that virginity stays intact. It seems there was a novice angel on watch who missed the ‘dirty deed.’ I had been grooming this couple for years. It was a disaster, I assure you. Gabriel took full responsibility and did offer his resignation. Of course, I did not accept, but it left me with a major problem. I needed to find a virgin couple quickly. So I got my
best
man on to the job of finding one.”

Believe it or not, I was still listening.

“Your
best
man?” I asked, intrigued as to who that would be.

“Ah yes, at first he was a bit reluctant. He felt I was going about it the wrong way, and he did voice his concerns. You see, he wanted to come back. He felt, as he had done such an excellent job the first time, he should be the one down there. He pointed out that a lot of people ‘down there’ believed he would be the one returning and not some newcomer. I was surprised that he agreed to get involved, but I think when he saw what a mess we were in, he decided to help. It was Jesus, your sort of half-brother, who found Irma and Ely.”

“Jesus?”

“Yes, Jesus. I know I was surprised he even agreed to help, but he came through in the end. He spent hours researching Ely and Irma and then a couple of months on ‘sex watch.’ We really needed to avoid a ‘Code Dave,’ what we had named a virginity snatch, and if I couldn’t rely and trust my own son, who could I trust?” asked God. The question was rhetorical, and in any case, I had no answer.

“But they’re Jewish. They don’t even believe in the whole ‘Christ the Son of God’ story,” I pointed out.

“That is a good point,” said God. “But so were Mary and Joseph, the original virgin couple. Both were Jews, good Jews, so it didn’t seem to me that it would be a problem. Turns out, it really wasn’t.”

I nodded my head, indicating I understood that what he told me actually made sense. It didn’t, and neither did I understand. I just felt the explanation sufficed. I was sure there would have been better and more suitable candidates than my parents, but I decided not to force the issue. What was done was done.

“Well, I suppose you do move in mysterious ways,” I said, half-joking.

“No, son, that’s actually a limp. There’s nothing mysterious about it at all,” replied God.

CHAPTER

I FEEL I SHOULD TAKE
this opportunity to explain what was occurring in certain places around the world at the exact same moment as I was talking to God. God, it would seem, had decided to coincide his call to me with “setting the wheels in the motion” (his words, not mine.) As we spoke, he introduced the world to the new Messiah using old and trusted methods. Unfortunately, this didn’t go as well as he would have liked.

These “old and trusted methods” included an image of my face miraculously appearing on a slice of toast in Sydney, Australia. Unfortunately, the recipient of this miracle toast, “Little” Timmy Grayson, aged seven, told his mom that, “there was a scary face of the Frankenstein monster on his toast” and that, “it freaked him out and he hated it.” Without even looking up from the morning television show she was watching, his mother had told young Timmy to, “just eat it and shut up, you whining little git, it’s the way the bread was made, just eat it,” which young Timmy duly did.

Similarly, an apple cut open that morning in Johannesburg, South Africa by a Margaret Deveraux while she prepared ingredients for an apple strudel she had promised to bake her sister, Dorothy, had somehow ripened inside to produce a startlingly realistic image of my face. This apple was subsequently tossed into a bin for being “funny looking” and mistakenly presumed to be rotten. Jasper, the Deveraux’s German shepherd then proceeded to rummage through the trash and devoured the Holy Apple.

Other attempts at these image miracles had also failed miserably. The one that I heard of later that most offended me was the image that manifested itself inside a recently felled tree in Sweden. Apparently the cut of the tree had revealed the face of “Oliver Hardy—but without the mustache” on the stump that remained. Crowds flocked to see the image of the “chubby and rotund comic” from all over Europe and indeed, the Sons of the Desert, the global Laurel and Hardy fan club, had declared that this occurrence was proof that God himself was a fan of the black and white movie greats. Especially the fat one. Actually, God did find their antics amusing but had never considered them worthy enough of an image miracle.

Like all first meetings between children and previously absentee fathers, after thirty years or so of abandonment and neglect, there was bound to be a bit of negativity and animosity on my behalf. However, I believe I handled it well, and I tried to be as understanding as was possible despite the circumstances surrounding the events of my birth and subsequent lack of preparation for the role I had to fulfill. It wasn’t as if God and I would have been able to have spent quality time together anyway; I am sure he wasn’t the sort of father who would have taken me to little league, taught me to ride a bike, spent time taking me on fishing trips, or even attended Parents’ Evening at school. Ely had been an ideal stand-in, so I had no reason to feel animosity toward him for that.

Please don’t assume that I did not like the guy. Granted, he talked to me through a cat, which was slightly off-putting and a little bit strange. However, he had annoyed me, and his attitude continued to annoy me. I was annoyed primarily because I found it arrogant on his behalf that he felt he could walk straight back into my life as if nothing had happened. I was annoyed that he seemed to blame others for my lack of training and lack of preparation. It seemed to me that God thought he had a divine right to walk back into my life and presume I would welcome him with open arms and agree to be the Messiah. He didn’t seem to fathom or even consider for one minute that maybe I was not interested in being the Messiah. Granted, I was pissed, angry beyond belief, but the truth was that it wasn’t just his pompous attitude and his unwillingness to accept responsibility that annoyed me; it was the fact that I was quite happy with my life as it was, and to be perfectly honest, the whole God and Messiah business was his business, and thanks, but no thanks. I didn’t want it. I had got on for thirty-two years just fine, thank you. Thanks for calling, but unfortunately, I was not interested in what he was selling. That was how I felt, and that was when my conversation with God that morning turned a little nasty.

Walter had curled up into a ball, and it appeared he was planning on going to sleep.

“Ignore this,” said God. “I am still here, I am still listening, it’s just that Walter is taking a probably well-deserved catnap,” explained God. Walter was now talking in this sleep, and though his eyes were closed, his mouth still twitched open and close whenever God spoke. It was a most unnerving sight. I decided now would be a good time to thank God for his visit, but to let him know I was not interested in being the Messiah or second coming of Christ.

“So, God, Dad, it has been great meeting you and everything,” I said politely and pleasantly, “but what is it you actually want from me?” I asked, still unsure of God’s plan.

“Want from you?” asked God, sounding a little surprised that I did not already know.

“Yes, want, need, require. There must be a reason you picked today to call? It’s not like you were in the neighborhood passing through, or you are on your deathbed and wanted to make peace with those who you did wrong, trying to amend for the years you forgot about me.” I paused. “You’re not on your deathbed, are you?” I asked, suddenly concerned with the implications if God suddenly died.

“No, I am fine, never felt better, actually. I do not possess a deathbed, nor any other type of bed, come to think of it,” God reassured me. That was a relief. The implication of no God was worse than a forgetful, pompous, responsibility shirking, and absent God.

“Well, then,” I continued, “what is it that brought you here? Why now? Why today? I am a little confused as to the urgency of all this.” Walter’s ear twitched involuntarily as he slept. It often did this, and I used to mistake it as a sign that he had fleas. Many were the times I would transport Walter to the vet’s office for unnecessary de-flea treatments and tick removal. The fact that Walter, to my best knowledge, had never ventured outdoors unless to visit the vet’s office for these flea treatments made the whole flea issue a non-issue, but it was best to be safe rather than sorry.

“Armageddon,” said God.

“Come again?” I asked, trying not to be overly distracted by the twitching ear and the fact that Walter appeared to be sleeping. It wasn’t that I hadn’t heard what God had said; I felt the need to hear it again, for clarification.

“Armageddon, the Apocalypse, the end of days, Revolution chapter whatever, you know, end of the world, the battle for souls, the final conflict, fire and brimstone, good versus evil, and all that,” said God as if describing nothing of real significance. I felt the need to find out more. Actually, I felt it imperative and highly necessary that I gleaned some more information from my nonchalant father.

“What about it? What about Armageddon? How does that affect me, exactly?” I asked. I hoped the underlying tone of panic that accompanied my voice was not overly apparent.

“Well, it’s time, you know, as foretold in the Bible, chapter whatever, verse something or other, book of Revolution. Surely you’ve heard of it?”

I scratched my head as Walter’s ear continued to flick. For some inexplicable reason, I had a sudden urge to swipe Walter. It wasn’t that his ear flickered and moved manically as he snoozed; it was something else. Ah, yes, it was my frustration at God. I had the feeling this Armageddon thing was a big issue, and if I hadn’t asked, I wondered when he was going to bring up the subject. I had the underlying and sinking feeling that God seemed to think I would be playing an important part in this “Armageddon” scenario.

“Have you actually ever read the Bible?” I asked.

Walter’s ear stopped flicking, and he raised his head and stared at me straight on before yawning.

“Sort of,” said God.

“Sort of? What does that mean? Sort of? It’s your book. It’s about you! How can you quote the Bible when you have only ‘sort of’ read it? I’ve even read part of it, and I’m Jewish. For a start, it’s not the book of ‘Revolution,’ it’s the book of Revelation. How could you not know that?” Deep down I already knew the answer, and I did not expect a reply. Walter stood up and arched his back to stretch, which he always did after a nap. He yawned again, jumped down from the sofa, and made his way to where his food and water bowls lived inside the kitchen.

“I was meant to proofread it before they released it. I kind of glanced through it, you know, got the general gist of things. What I read seemed fine. A few spelling errors, the odd grammatical error, and some chapters were better than others, but overall, I thought it was a good effort, good plot, great characters, and I enjoyed the bits I read in detail. To be honest, we had a whole team working on it, proofreading, re-writing, editing; there wasn’t much more I could add. And anyway, writing isn’t my sort of thing. I leave that to the eggheads and scholars. I am a much more hands-on, give-me-a-screwdriver, give-me-a-hammer, give-me-a-Universe-to-create sort of fellow.”

God paused to allow Walter to drink from his bowl of water before he spoke again. Walter licked his lips, and I was sure he was going to start on his fish-flavored dry food, but instead, he left the kitchen and returned to the sofa and sat, once again, on his haunches.

“With Armageddon just around the corner, I thought it was time you started to earn your keep.”

“My keep?” I queried.

“Just a figure of speech. Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Scratch that, there is no keep, bad term of phrase,” apologized God, rather too readily, I hasten to add, and it didn’t go unnoticed. In any case, I had more pressing concerns.

“What do you mean by ‘just around the corner?’ What do you mean by Armageddon?” Once again, I hoped the nervousness in my voice was not as apparent to God as it was to me. God seemed to ignore my questions and continued to speak in his unnervingly jolly and pompous sounding voice.

“Anyway, we really need to get cracking; we have no time to lose. We need to get you out there on the streets, collecting the lambs for saving, and all that, getting everyone prepared.”

“No,” I said.

“Sorry,” said God, “for a minute there I thought you said ‘no.’” Walter had jumped down from the sofa and flicked one of his toy balls with bells in it along the floor. The jingle jangling was slightly distracting.

“I did say ‘no.’ No, I am not interested. I don’t want the job. Thanks, but no thanks. Great meeting you, no hard feelings and all that, but I am not interested in your offer. I get the feeling that Armageddon is probably not a good thing, and if my memory is correct, I am sure it involves violence and destruction and hassle. I do not need hassle in my life. The fact that you said ‘around the corner’ is also not a good indication. I don’t think this is the job for me. I think you should go to plan B.”

Walter stopped flicking the ball and rolled over onto his back.

“No plan B,” said God, “and anyway why ever not?” He sounded a little upset. “It’s a great job.”

“Because I am quite happy with my life as it is, thank you very much. For a start, I already have a great job. I am happy, and I don’t need this right now. Not now, not ever. I am sure it won’t be too difficult for you to find somebody else. Surely there is another virgin birth out there or at least someone whose parents just did it once. Is it really that important, this whole virgin thing? I know I am your son, and I know this is of course a family commitment, but couldn’t you maybe adopt? Why not adopt some super priest who knows karate or something? Surely there is a better candidate out there than me.” I hoped I didn’t sound too desperate.

Walter stretched his claws on my sofa. He had never done that before, and I suspected it was God’s influence. I thought about smacking him on the head but reconsidered.

“I would appreciate it if you would stop that. This sofa is new,” I said. Walter stopped clawing at the couch and returned to sit on his haunches. I inspected my furniture and saw the damage was minimal.

“I am sorry,” said God. At first I thought he was going to apologize for scratching my sofa. “I am afraid the job
is
yours. There is no one else, and you are it. The one.
El numero uno.
Do you think there is another virgin-born child out there? You think I have a ready stock of virgins just hanging about, hoping they miraculously become pregnant? What, I need to place an advert? ‘Wanted, male, age 32, born to a virgin mother, prepared to save the world in the upcoming battle against evil. Long hours, some traveling, and excellent benefits. Training package provided. Come on, son, be realistic. Adopt? A super priest? Karate? I have to say, I’m a little disappointed in your attitude.”

I could tell from his tone he was getting annoyed. I got the feeling not too many people said ‘no’ to God. I also got the feeling that I should not push him too far. I was sure he probably had a temper. I think I had read that somewhere. His voice was getting louder, and I noticed Walter staring at me. Usually, I always won our little staring competitions. In fact, I always won. But Walter’s gaze was not diverting. I felt even more unnerved. I broke away from Walter’s gaze.

“You think I wanted it this way? You think this is how I planned it?” shouted God. “Did you not hear me when I told you about the couple from Wisconsin? They were ideal. It’s not my fault we are in this forsaken predicament. I cannot believe any son of mine would be so uncompromising. I would have thought you would have jumped at the chance. I really do not understand your reluctance.”

God’s tone softened slightly, “Come on, Seth, be a sport; most people would jump at the chance of being the Messiah, and you know some people out there actually dream about things like this.”