Second Coming

What will you do when Jesus knocks on your door? I mean the Jesus. You know, the guy who died on the cross for your sins. Imagine that, such a nice fellow, to suffer horrible torture just for you. And now, here he is. He wants to stay overnight. Just enough bread there for your breakfast, and now this. Sorta inconvenient, but hey. Any cheese and crackers left…? Shit. Well, at least you don’t need any wine, he’ll deal with that shortage… so you go get some water. Then, maybe, he wants to even talk to you. I’ll just bet he does. It won’t be small talk. After all, he isn’t au courant, it’s been a while, he’ll want to get up on things.
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But then again, you might not even recognize him. More likely you’ll think: who’s this fucking long-haired, bearded bum in a tunic at my door, asking for hospitality? Jeez, looks like the dude hasn’t washed his hair in weeks… bad teeth. Uh, no, sorry, you’ll murmur, closing the door as you do so, feeling slightly embarrassed. And if he puts his bare foot in the gap, preventing you from closing the door, will you squash it? But he wouldn’t do that anyway, he’s far too nice for that. He won’t say or do anything when you close the door in his face, no, no, he’ll just judge you. Whaugh! You up for that, baby? I ain’t. Happy Christmas.

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