Billions of people around the world think religious genius and Pop Religion Icon Jesus Christ is dead and buried but nothing could be further from the truth.

In fact, say religious sources around the world in a position to know, the ‘Original Jesus Christ Superstar’ died and then rose from the dead three days later to allow humanity to escape the crushing pressures of life in sin -and he is now socked away equally in heaven, in Christians’ hearts via the Holy Ghost, in communion wafers, in icons, in images burned into tortillas, and equally everywhere at once due to a power known as omnipresence.
And in the strangest twist of all, say the insiders, once he’s rested and ready, Jesus Christ, age 2009, will blow the lid off speculations that he is “either dead, gone, uncaring in a Deist way, or absolute sham” and make a comeback tour on May 21 2011. Adoring fans are already buying tickets to Frankenmuth Michigan’s World Beer Expo to celebrate his surprise career turn.

“Jesus Christ is following in the footsteps of others he greatly admired –Amelia Earhart, Elvis Presley, Michael Jackson, Jim Morrison, L. Ron Hubbard, all who faked their deaths and are still alive, and in hiding, today,” Pastor Joshua Loomis, of Topeka’s Victory Chapel said in this previous Sunday’s sermon.

“Make no mistake, Jesus Christ is Lord and Savior, both as a performer and as and showman and marketer and promoter. Remember when he made water into wine just to get the publicity? Remember when he reputedly was trying to combat imperialism, injustice, ethnic bigotry, and classism through non-violent protest and inclusive fellowship? If you look at his history of stunts he’s pulled to keep himself in the public eye, like loving social outcasts and committing himself to egoless service, the idea that he would rise from his death makes sense.” Loomis said.

“Let’s face it – Jesus Christ has been vilified by many in the the liberal media and by people who just don’t like him. He’s been called ‘Just A Good Man’ and ‘Chief Among the Prophets But Yet Not God’, ‘The Firstborn of Creation-Meaning an Angel’, ‘The Son of God, Meaning a Human Turned God Who Created This World And Is Son Of Elohim Who Lives Near The Planet Kolob’, et cetera, et cetera. When Jesus comes back May 21, 2011 he’ll set matters straight and by the way it will be awesome to hang out in Frankenmuth Michigan for their beer festival. I love Michigan!” The pastor said, to his congregation’s ‘amens’.

“Yes, he’s got billions of fans. Yes, he’s sold perhaps billions of books about him. But for all the love he gets, there are those who still get their rocks off by being asswipes to other people and justify it by using his name and legacy. It ain’t right, and it hurts overall sales. With all due respect to the President of United States, Jesus Christ on a ‘Back from the Dead, Gone, or Uncaring Tour’ will make Obama look like a B-List celebrity.” Pastor Loomis then quoted at length from I Corinthians chapter thirteen and Frankenmuth’s website.

More on this story as it develops – exclusively at www.mindflowers.net

But not everyone is convinced. There are some who believe that Jesus Christ has, in fact, died. Secular Humanist and volunteer firefighter Mike Gresch says Elvis Presley welcomed Jesus into the Great Nothingness. “Non-existence isn’t all that bad I’d imagine. Anywho, god bless him. I love that guy. Elvis, I mean. And Jesus too I guess. I wish them both well.” Gresch then added, “Frankenmuth Michigan is a great town and it has some of the nicest people you’d want to meet. Jesus or no Jesus, I’ll be there come May 21 2011.”

(Highlight @ 4:41)

Police Officer Patty: Okay now Mr. Sherman-I know that you’ve gone through a lot but this will all be over soon.
Mr. Sherman: I can’t take anymore of this! This coffee that is. This is the worst police station coffee I’ve ever had!
POP: I’m sorry. Its just that with budget cuts and everything-
MS: I didn’t ask you for any excuses, Patty…Now, I’ve been waiting patiently for like an hour now-
POP: And I appreciate your patience. First we’ll get these handcuffs off you-
MS: Thank you! They’re on really tight. I can hardly even comb my fingers through my hair!
POP: We’ll get them off you as soon as we get the key. Officer Lou ate the key and he’s drinking Milk of Magnesia as we speak.
Police Officer Lou: (enters) hey guys-here’s that key. Sorry about that.
MS: About time, Lou!
POP: Lou, can you also get me the murder victim’s skull from the evidence locker?
POL: Uhhh…That might take a while to get the key to the evidence locker.
POP: (Looks gently accusing and shakes her head)
POL: I have an eating disorder, Patty. You KNOW that. (exits in a huff)
MS: Don’t make excuses for yourself, Lou! (Patty takes off MS’s cuffs) Ahhh. Now that’s better.
POP: And you’ll have to promise not to choke me again.
MS: No one can tell the future, Patty.
POP: I’m not asking you for a horoscope, Mr. Sherman- just that you won’t choke me again.
MS: Are you familiar with existentialism, Patty?
POP: Of course. My last murder case was committed with an extension cord. (MS looks unsure) And the murder victim was an octopus with an extra tentacle. (MS looks more unsure)…and it got me thinking about the meaning of my life. (MS finally looks appeased)
MS: Well, my point is, Patty-we can never be certain of what will be. Or WHO we’ll be at any given time. There is no essential ’self’, Patty.
POP: You…your wisdom is powerful. You’re like a philosopher king.
MS: (chokes Patty for three seconds and then sits, looking innocent)
POP: You just choked me!
MS: That was the Mr. Sherman of the past, Patty. I live in the now.
POP: You facinate me (looks romantically at MS).
Police Offficer Lou: (enters) Hey guys! (senses romantic aire) Sorry to interrupt. I got that skull for you. (holds up tiny
container)
POP: Thank you Lou…(looks at inquisitively) That’s much smaller than I had expected.
POL: Well it IS the skull of a squirrel.
POP: I know that! Of course I know that. Still-its remarkably small.
MS: That is small. Even for a squirrel.
POL: …and I cremated it…and I spilled some of it…and I ate some of it.
POP: That skull was our only evidence, Lou! Well this case has just been flushed down the toilet.
POL: Oh yeah. And I flushed some of it down the toilet too.
MS: Well then, in that case I think that I’ll be going.
POP: Lou, will you do me a favor and leave us alone for a minute?
POL: Hey, it was good to see you again Mr. Sherman! Hope to see you soon.
MS: Oh, I’m sure you will. I’m here everyday. Say ‘hi’ to the wife and kids for me.
POL: Will do. Oh, and I didn’t forget-I still have your DVDs of ‘Silence of the Lambs’ and ‘American Psycho’. I’ll bring them for you tomorrow. Seeya! (exits)
MS: Well, Patty-we’ve been doing this dance for how many years now? You bring me in on trumped up charges with
either no evidence or lots of evidence that is quickly ingested by your partner…why don’t we just stop playing these silly games and tell each other how we really feel?
POP: You’re right. Let’s stop playing charades with each other’s hearts. Let’s stop holding the sex themed playing cards of lust so close to our heaving chests. Let’s tell each other the truth.
MS: Where do I begin? (takes her in his arms) Firstly- I killed that squirrel. Secondly- I love you.
POP: And I must tell you Mr. Sherman that I plan on killing you right now. (she pulls free and points her gun at him)
MS: I wasn’t expecting that.
POP: I wouldn’t have expected you to expect this.
MS: I thought that we had a rapport together! The way that you’d tell me I looked handsome in handcuffs, the way that you let me couchsurf at your place last summer….we went to your sister’s Bat Mitzvah together for Christ’s sake.
POP: It was all an elaborate scheme to earn your trust. Seventeen years of botching your murder cases just to get in your good graces.
MS: You won’t kill me, Patty. You don’t have the balls. You wouldn’t hurt a fly.
POP: Truth be told-it was ME who killed that extra tentacled octopus I told you about earlier. And truth be told, I do have balls. And a fully functional and uncircumsized penis.
MS: But….but….Patty…you’re Jewish!
POP: And I consider killing you a mitzvah! (raises gun and pulls trigger but it is empty, nothing happens. She looks at it confused)
Police Officer Lou: (enters) Oh, sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to say goodnight to Mr. Sherman again. Goodnight, buddy. I love you. Sweet dreams. I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh and sorry Patty, I ate all the bullets that were in your gun. Sorry. (to MS in a whisper) I love you.
MS: So where do we go from here?
POP: I just wish we could start all over again. Go back to the way things were. I’ve been such a fool-been so afraid of love-
MS: I didn’t ask for any excuses, Patty. Besides, that was ‘us’ in the past. I live in the now. And right now-I want someone to spend the rest of my ‘nows’ with. I’ll tell you what…I’m going over to the wharf to club some catfish to death. And I sure would like some company.
POP: How could I say ‘no’ to someone who looks so handsome in handcuffs? (they link arms and walk for the exit)
MS: I know a nice little vegan cafe on the way. They have a great kosher menu. (they exit)

(End Scene)

The night previous, I returned to my bed chamber after nodding in goodnight to my departing dinner guests and found my sleep to be hard fought. I thought it would be another night of wrestling with the demons of regret, the voices of “why did you bring up Charlemagne at dessert? You know Ms. Devonshire is Francophobic!” echoing in my fretful-host post-party reflections but I was soon alerted to it being something else entirely.
A hot eruption of vomit from my gullet across my down comforter and unto my stately new globe with the recently updated “passage to India” cartography told me that my third helping of corned beef hash was more than just a probable deciding factor in Ms. Devonshire’s declining my advances-it was an invitation to a shamanistic voyage of the mind. My friend and fellow member of the City’s exclusive Men’s Club, Dr. Mortolo had begun recently exploring the uncharted recesses of the human mind through the use of electromagnets, hypnoelectric shock, lightning rods, applications of leeches, and electrified leeches to great increase of knowledge. Among his findings, Dr. Mortolo concluded that Beef Hash was but one way to travel to the spirit realms which envelope the ether layer just below the watery heavens. The same effects could be reached through ample voltage directed through the brain pan or through the medicinal drug ‘cocaine’, but corned beef hash of the sort I’d eaten a pound and a half of was the most potent and successful means to achieve this altered state.
Another round of vomiting, this time painting my silk drapes, readied me for my spiritual voyage. I was not in the least worried nor upset. My upbringing was afterall, as a Methodist and I had grown accustomed to fearful flights into the edges of sanity.
The first thing I became aware of was that I was floating in a perfectly white space. Or rather, a white lack of space. There was absolutely nothing about. It was as though I’d been transported back to Minnesota in the winter (a devilish vision for anyone in of itself) and all about me was pure whiteout. I was fully aware of my body: my powdered wig, my parasol, my wooden clogs, my merkin, my wooden teeth, my ivory inlaid false eyebrows; all was in place only there was no reference point to gauge myself against.
I walked. Or rather, I made a walking motion for there was no ‘floor’ to be had. After what felt like an infinity of this repeated walking motion without any sensation of progress, I felt as one who has been attempting to solicit a direct answer from a politician or seminarian. At long last, I saw the dirty tip of a digging spade appear as a gnat before my face and then the entirety of said shovel as it ‘dug’ deeper then followed by a venturing hand. I was plucked from the dread whiteness as a gopher may from its burrow and came up in a humble farmer’s field.
“I thought you mighta’ been watermelon.” The oafish looking brute said in a purely working class accent.
“Watermelons grow above ground, dear sir.” I said, brushing off my crushed velvet cape and wiping clean my nez pince.
“Then how come I’ve never seen one?” he countered.
“If you’ve never seen one, then mayhap you have seen one and not known it, my good man.”
That put him in the throes of thought and I hated to have troubled his mind so. To relieve him of his efforts, I told him of my experience in the void. “I was afloat in a vacuum of nothing!” I concluded and half expected his proletariat’s ears to begin fuming.
“P’haps it was you that was everything.” he said back without a courteous bow. “That is,” he continued as he placed a plug of chewing tobacco in his jowly mouth, “If there was nothing else around, you composed the whole.”
I clicked open my pocket watch and saw the hands were moving backwards, a phenomenon I owed to either the beef hash or my nightcap of laudanum drank from my lead lined grail. “Sir,” I said “I haven’t the foggiest notion of what it is you are trying to express.”
“That is, when the universe was the size of you (which it was but briefly despite your great girth) that all was measured by it, and within it. Distance is a flexible and arbitrary idea-and by your description, I would say that before I plucked you like so much a beet or a watermelon (not to contradict your belief of watermelons) from the ground you were everywhere.” The farmer placed a plug of tobacco under his right eyelid.
I felt quite put off by the man’s haughty demeanor and I told him as much. With a smart lash of my riding crop across his mealy mouth, I bid him adeiu. If the tears in his eyes were any sign, my departing hail triggered an active Francophobia within him and I quickly replaced it with a “good day” accented by another taste of my riding crop.
As I turned to make my way towards a village I’d espied upon the horizon, I was transported upon a great gust of wind back to my four poster and the candlelight of my room.
My bedroom door opened and in came my maid inquiring to my well being. I threw my chamber pot at her and in my distress instructed her to fill it. Thankfully she quickly obliged and then left me to entertain my troubled thoughts of the night’s happenings. 
Had the night’s voyage been a trip through the astral plane? Or had I been privy to the ’seventh heaven’ spoken of by the Apostle? I put the guessing aside and settled down for bed joined by my fourteen wolfhounds and decided that the morning’s breakfast would be corned beef hash and  trepanation.

Nathan: You know, I’ve made up my mind-I’m ready to quit.
Paul: Good. For. You. Nathan. I will support you one hundred percent.
N: Its just that I’ve faced up to myself you know-I’ve seen clearly that this is the road I need to take.
P: I didn’t want to say anything, but you’ve been wasting away, looking tired all the time….
N: That’s right Paul, and that’s why I need to quit my job.
P: And I’ve got your stapler and family photos already in a cardboard box…I pack up your stuff everyday at lunch-just in case.
N: Thanks, Paul. I’ll just take that box from you and also my unemployment check thank you very much.
P: That’s not really how it works, Nathan.
N: Too soon isn’t it? I need to go home and Tweet about how awesome it is being unemployed and getting checks from the government for NOT working right? And then the money starts pouring in? Or do I need to get stoned before noon and then BBQ half naked on my porch until my stupid employed neighbors and wife come home?
P: Actually, Nathan, Uh, you need to get fired to get unemployment.
N: Are you hiring?
P: We happen to have a youth pastor position that JUST opened up a minute ago, yes.
N: You see, that’s the problem. I hate kids.
P: I know you do. For the last 12 years, you’ve said that to me everyday.
N: Don’t you have anything else open?
P: We’re looking for an accountant, an organist and we are also in need of a bell ringer.
N: Like a hunchback?
P: You will need to get a hunch implant, yes.
N: A hunch! I’ll have to have it removed each weekend for my carousing. And Trinity Baptist doesn’t have health coverage and I can’t shell out thousands of dollars to have a deformity removed each week just so I can still cruise the red light district!
P: These are things you should have thought about BEFORE quitting. You are always acting too quickly.
N: I know.
P: Sure that’s a helpful characteristic in some cases-like when that demon possessed woman tried to spit venom at me and you shielded me with an impromptu cross made of two bread sticks. But it can be a detriment too, Nathan. Like when you baptized the Thompson kid while it was still being born.
N: That would have been a great idea had it not been a breech birth! Of course, since the soul lives in the brain, that Thompson kid will go to hell, but that can’t be pinned on me.
P: …I’ve been thinking.
N: About hiring me.
P: Yes. As the new head pastor.
N: But…Paul. What will you do?
P: I’ll go back to farming. Where I belong. I’ve sown the wild oats of the gospel in this little chapel for well on to 30 years now, and I think its time I packed up the shovel of my Bible, the hoe of my overhead projector, the wagon of my ‘thought of the day’ calendar, the silo of my guitar-
N: I get the picture…Now am I hired or what?
P: Yes, son. Trinity Baptist is in your keeping now.
N: Praise God! You’ve passed on the keys to the kingdom and now its me who can rule this Church with an iron fist!
P: Iron fist in a velvet glove I hope.
N: No, most likely an iron fist in a chain mail glove. My first order of business will be to fire myself so that I can live off the fat of the land-collect unemployment, be a welfare queen…
P: Again, I don’t think you understand unemployment at all. You won’t be able to fire yourself. That’s just a fancy way of saying you quit.
N: I really should have read up on this whole unemployment thing. Now I’ve got a church full of idiots to run, no youth pastor…
Hubjub: (a hunchback) Hello. I’m Hubjub. I’m here for the organist job interview. (To Paul) Are you the pastor?
P: No, I’m a farmer.
N: I’m pastor of these parts. The name is Nathan-Pastor Nathan and don’t you forget it, Hobknob.
H: Hubjub.
N: You play the organ?
H: Not at all. 
N: Its a tough job market out there, Hufflepuff. I hate to tell you, but you’re competing against a high school drop out, a former GM CEO, and a Jonas Brother for that organist job. Do you have any references?
H: (To Paul) Will you be a reference?
P: Sure.
H: One hundred percent of farmers in this office recommend me.
N: That’s pretty convincing. But I’m still not sold.
H: (to Nathan) will you be a reference?
N: Sure.
H: Two out of three people in this office recommend me and one third of the people in this room will perform sex acts on his references.
P: Referencationalists.
N: Actually, we’re Baptists.
P: Wait-sex acts?
H: Sure! I’d do anything for a job. Except get training appropriate for the job I’m applying for.
N: Would you learn how to read in order to be an erotica reader to a blind man?
H: That I would do…
N: (stabs out his eyes with a pencil) Ahhhh!
H: …Hypothetically.
N: Ahh! I’m always acting too quickly!
P: We all have our weaknesses. Nothing to be ashamed of. God accepts everyone as they are.
H: My weakness is killing my coworkers. You hear about that triple homocide at Notre Dame last week?
N: Was that you?
H: You’re lookin’ at him! Oops. Sorry, no offense.
N: None taken. Wow. You still here, Paul? You hear that? We’re in the presence of a notorious hunchback! 
P: Yeah. I’m standing right next to you. My hand is on your shoulder. And my other hand is on your thigh.
N: (touches Paul’s hand and then his face) Your face is so smooth!
P: As a former pastor and current farmer I have to stay looking young-so I use face lotion and drink the blood of the innocent.
N: Its so hard to find an innocent nowadays isn’t it?
H: You’re telling me!
P: You said it.
N: You know what, HotTub? You’re hired.
H: As Organist!
N: No. As Pastor.
H: Yay! I’ve always wanted to be a pastor.
N: Under one condition. You hire me as church accountant and then fire me.
H: I’ll have to warn you, there will be a brief period where you will technically be my coworker.
N: That’s a chance I’m willing to take. 
P: Well, I should be going. I’ve got some fields to plow.
N: You’re not going to stick around and see if the hunchback kills me before he fires me or if I will attain my heart’s desire of being unemployed? You can’t stay to find out if I have some resolution?
P: I’d normally love to. But I have some job interviews to conduct at my farm.
H: You’re hiring? What position?
P: Mule.
H: Someone to pull your plow like a mule?
P: No, drug mule. I’m going to run a cocaine farm. 
N: Cocaine comes from a plant. That’s weird. I never thought about that. ”Cocaine Farm”. Weird. 
H: I want to apply as a mule!
P: Do you have references? 
H: (To Nathan) Will you be a reference?
N: ….Oh! Are you talking to me? I’m sorry, I can’t see. Uh, sure I’ll recommend you. Paul, you should hire HumJaw here.
P: You’re hired!
H: (unsheaths his sword, stabs Paul in the heart)
P: Gaahhhhh!
N: See you guys! Take care! See you later. (Sits at desk)
H: Hello? I’m here for the job interview?
N: Gah! You scared me. Hello. My name is Nathan.
H: Yeah. I know.
N: HumblePie? Is that you?
H: No. My name is Hubjub.
N: Oh, good to meet you. Please have a seat.
H: Thanks. I’d like to apply for the organist position.
N: Have you ever considered being a pastor by chance?
H: Yay! I’ve always wanted to be a pastor!

(End scene)

1: Well, I would say its late Egyptian.
2: Most likely Ramses III. But I wouldn’t bet my camel on it.
1: I’ll bet the last of my water and food that its Ramses II period.
2: Let’s take a look in my iPhone’s ‘hieroglyph identification’ app. Hmm. Ramses III.
1: (Gulp) well, that’s interesting.
2: (taking the food and water from partner’s pack and putting it into their own)Ahhh, canned hummus. I love hummus.
1: I do too. (looking hungry)….Hey! Look! A mummy! I bet you its haunted.
2: Some mummies are haunted, yes. But its never a surefire thing. I wouldn’t bet my sunscreen on it.
1: I’ll bet you double or nothing for my food back.
2: You don’t have any food or water to put up to bet.
1: Triple or nothing.
2: You already have nothing. You could do a credit thing, take out a loan or…
1: or, bet my life!
2: or bet your life.
1: Its on.
2: I’m not sure exactly what ‘is on’.
1: I bet you my life that this mummy is haunted.
2: So if it is haunted you live and if it isn’t….
1: You can kill me.
2: You’re my best friend, research team coordinator, Doctoral advisor, kidney donee, half brother, and at times my lover. There is no other life I’d be more honored in ending.
1: Thank you. Besides, I would have slowly died of dehydration and starvation anyway, so really its helping me out.
2: That’s a good point.
1: Half of me hopes this mummy ISN’T haunted.
2: More than half, here.
1: (Picks up a jar) Hey, Mummy! I’m messing around with your stuff!
2: I think that you might need to desecrate it.
1: Like have sex with it.
2: Let’s start with making out and we can go from there.
1: (makes out with jar) Uh! This tastes horrible! (makes out some more) Oh! There’s a dead ol’ cat in here!
2: I thought that looked like a cat burial jar.
1: Uh….I’m getting its burial wrappings and cat hair caught in my teeth. Is that mummy moving yet?
2: A little, but not really in a scary way. Its just waving happily. (waves back) hello!
1: I have the worst luck ever.
2: Hey, luck is subjective.
1: How’s that?
2: I’m going to get my right kidney back.
1: True…I had grown attached to it though.
2: You just never learned your lesson! You remember last year when we went to Vegas and stayed in the Luxor hotel?
1: Of course! I lost my original right kidney in a bet there.
2: And that wasn’t enough to convince you that you have a gambling problem?
1: Gambling is only a problem when it interferes with your life.
2: Well, now its going to be ending your life.
1: Everybody’s got to go somehow. Better by the hand of your best friend and kidney donor in a pyramid than by say….old age or something.
2: (takes sword from sheath and approaches)
1: Hey! One last bet.
2: Okay.
1: I bet you my pith helmet that you’ll regret killing me.
2: Okay. (runs the sword through. 1 staggers gurgling and collapses. 2 waits then shrugs and takes 1’s pith helmet)
Mummy: Ohhhhh! I’m a haunted mummy!
2: The shedding of innocent blood has awoken you!
Mummy: No,
2: The making out with your cat has awoken you!
Mummy: No, I overheard that there’s an extra kidney to be had. I just love kidney pie. You ever had kidney pie?
2: No.
Mummy: I bet you’ll love it.
2: You’re on!

(End scene)

The following video was produced by laughing liberally:

Tim is sleeping in his dark apartment and the phone rings.

Tim: ….Hello?
Dave: Tim!
T: Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Hello?
D: TIM!
T: Dave? Is that you? What is it? Oh my god….
D: Hey man.
T: Yeah, Dave! Are you all right?
D: I’m golden dude. What are you up to?
T: I’m sleeping. Is everything alright?
D: Yeah. Yeah. What? Are you sleeping?
T: I uh…yeah. I uh.
D: Why are you sleeping?
T: Its like uh, four in the morning. We’ve got to be at work in the morning-are you okay?
D: Dude-you got to work in the morning?
T: Tomorrow’s Tuesday. The Hamshire deal….the big eight o’ clock meeting, Dave!
D: Oh! That’s right tomorrow’s Tuesday! I totally lost track of time.
T: How do you lose track of days Dave? Christ! Why are you calling me? Is this about the meeting tomorrow?
D: Tim, dude I’m sorry man. No, I just called to say hi. I totally forgot about the meeting. I’m on vacation.
T: You’re on vacation?
D: I’m on vay-cay, baby. That’s cool about the meeting though. Good luck in there.
T: Thanks. I guess. Why did you call me at four in the morning again?
D: Why do you keep saying its four in the morning?
T: Because it is!
D: Where are you right now?
T: My bed!
D: In L.A.?….Oh, dude….I’m sorry.
T: You’re on vacation?…Aren’t you supposed to present the proposal?
D: I emailed you the powerpoint.
T: No you didn’t.
D: No, I just did. You didn’t see it?
T: I’m not in the office-
D: You got your Blackberry with you?
T: I’m sleeping!
D: Well, when you check it, it’ll be there.
T: A powerpoint.
D: Well, not a powerpoint. A Word document. But you’ll be able to put it into a powerpoint.
T: For tomorrow’s meeting?
D: Yeah. I put in some links to Google images that are cool too. Like one of a bar graph and one of a poodle wearing sunglasses and stuff. Check it out.
T: I will. In the morning. Waitaminute: where are you?
D: New York. I thought I told you.
T: No.
D: Yeah! I’m in New York! Can you believe it?
T: No.
D: Yeah. That’s why I guess I thought you’d be up.
T: Because its what? Seven o’ clock there?
D: Is it? I dunno. I’ve been out drinking all night.
T: Goodnight, Dave.
D: Are you in a bad mood?
T: Well, Dave-
D: Because you really shouldn’t stress about tomorrow’s meeting. There probably won’t be any lay-off announcements tomorrow anyway.
T: There’s going to be lay-offs?
D: …Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.
T: You know about lay-offs? Ms. Lindel said she wouldn’t lay anyone off this fiscal year.
D: Well, she would tell YOU that.
T: What does that mean?
D: I shouldn’t have said anything. Look, dude. I’m sorry I’m talking your ear off. I should let you go-you got like a pivotal career making or breaking meeting tomorrow and you’ve still got to get a powerpoint together for it, so I should let you go.
T: No, wait! You got to tell me what you know about lay-offs! Am I being fired?
D: Dude, Tim. Relax, alright? I’ve got to let you go. I’m meeting some ladies at the club. Talk to you later!

Dave hangs up and Tim clicks his phone down. He tries to rest, but turns uneasily. He finally sits up again turns on the light and calls Dave back on the phone.

Dave: Hello this is Dave.
Tim: Am I being fired tomorrow?
D: Who’s speaking?
T: Me! Tim.
D: Did you get my email about the presentation?
T: No!
D: Oh. I was just expecting you to call when you tried to open it because there will probably be some problems opening it. I used an old Mac letter template and I think it was a pirated copy because I found it on an offshore porn website.
T: Dave. What did Ms. Lindel tell you about my job? Am I being fired?
D: Mom didn’t say anything really. Its not that big a deal.
T:….Ms. Lindel is your mom?
D: Uh…
T: The boss is your  mom?….Dave?
D: Step-mom. Officially she’s my step mom….But she has legally adopted me.
T: Now it all makes sense.
D: What does?….I mean speak up, I can hardly hear you. We’re doing some coke over here and its getting hard to pay attention to what you’re saying.
T: I said it makes sense why you get away with being drunk at the office and why you get raises every year and yet other more talented and hard working people get fired!
D: That sounds accusatory, Tim. I’m not a sensitive guy. But I could take offense. Really. I’m not sensitive or caring at all, and I arguably have no emotions. But you’re getting close to poking a tender spot, here.
T: You know what, Dave? Do you know what I’m going to do?
D: You’re going to tell me off and then hang up the phone and then say something snarky that reincorporates.
T: As funny as that might be, Dave, I’m going to rather divulge my sinister plans to get back at you.
D: I don’t like that ending so much.
T: I didn’t think you would. I’m going to go in to work tomorrow with some Bree cheese-
D: No! You wouldn’t! That’s Mom’s favorite!…
T: And I’m going to romance your mother by feeding her Bree cheese on rye crackers-
D: Oh no!
T: Then I’m going to marry her and through years of manipulation and devious plotting, I will wrestle her job as CEO from her, take over the company, and then I will fire you!
D: Tim….Can’t we make a deal? I mean let’s be reasonable. Please.
T: Too late, Dave. The wheels have already been set in motion. Tim gets out of bed and begins clicking on his iPhone I’m ordering some Bree cheese to be delivered to me right now.
D: You’d have to order all the way from New York at this time of day its like seven o’ clock!
T: Four. I’m in L.A.
D: That only confirms my point! There’s no place in L.A. where you can buy fancy cheese at four in the morning!
T: I’ve found a store already called “Bree Storehouse For The Conniving” in New York and it says that they can rush order it in time for the meeting!
D: Dave looks up and sees he’s standing next to the sign for the store-he motions to the teller to buy some Bree
T: They have one wheel of Bree left and I’m ordering it right now! Hahahahha! What?
D: Did the website tell you the last one was just bought?
T: ….Yes. How did you know?…..realizes and silently admits defeat Dave, I should let you go. I’ve got to get ready for the Hamshire meeting tomorrow.
D: Tim…I’m sorry I woke you up tonight buddy.
T: That’s okay. Don’t worry about it.
D: Have a good morning, buddy.
T: Yeah. You too. Hangs up phone his girlfriend Brenda rolls over from where she’s been hidden in the covers
Brenda: Would you really have married your boss just to get back at Dave? You’ve always told me you don’t want to get married.
T: Oh, Brenda-you know that was an empty threat. It would have never worked out between me and Ms. Lindel anyway. I’m lactose intolerant.
B: You’re lactose intolerant? Uh. I think we need to start seeing other people.
The phone rings
T: Can you answer it? I can’t take anymore. Is holding is head in his hands
B: Hello? Oh, Hi Dave! Yeah. Laughs again and again flirtatiously. Yeah, dinner sounds nice. Yeah, I’m single now. Friday sounds great. Yeah, he’s here. He’s just a sour puss right now. Okay. I’ll tell him. Night, Dave! See you soon. That was Dave.
T: Really. sarcastic
B: Yeah. He said that he’d thought of something snarky you could say that would reincorporate but he forgot it. He’ll call back though. Well. I’ll see you, loser. She leaves in her pj’s and slams the door. The phone rings. Tim looks at it despairingly. Finally concedes to pick it up
T: Hello?
Francois: In thick French accent Allo! This is Francois from Bree Storehouse for The Conniving. Yes, the fellow who bought our last wheel of Bree returned it. Would you still like it sent to you express?
T: Yes….Oh, and do you sell Lactaid?
F: But of course.
T: hahahahahahahahahaha!
curtain

Expect a lot of controversy this week.
Ugh.
There’ll be many a ‘flame war’ among internet
trolls and the African Bishops, I just know it.
You know, there were nay sayers when
Pope Clement the Eleventh said there was
no grace outside the Church.
And you know what?
They burned in hell.
And when Pope Gregory the Sixteenth said that all Bible
interpretation is left to the infalliable Magisterium of the Church
there were those hipster ‘blog’ journalists who chimed in.
And you know what?
They had unusually high viewing records for that week.
Because religion sells.
And controversy ups blog hype.
And you know what?
The current Pope is expecting and ready for all that
you internet-dwelling-microwave-baked-beans-eating-nerd-chic
Mac-using-jerks can throw at him.
Well, I for one appreciate the spirit and daring prophetic
vision that the Pope had this week when he declared my perpetual virginity.

And a Papal decree of virginity is WAY better than any ol’
evangelical ‘born again virgin’ bullshit.
You tell someone you’re a ‘born again virgin’ as they’re about
to fist their way into another fistula and you’re bound to get laughed
out of the academy.
Evangelicalism won’t get you anywhere in serious religious discussion
or in the sack.
But a statement written in Latin will sew you tighter than the security at Dulles.
That’s the breaks, folks. I wish all you sluts good luck-as for me and my perpetual virginity,
we’re heading over to the House of Blues on Sunset!

You know, some of the best poets never spoke literally.
Why is it that we need to always speak of religions literally?
Really.
Have you ever thought about Mormonism in a non-literal sense?
It seems pretty cool in that way. You know, like, these immigrants
or more appropriately refugees have to flee and lo and behold they
end up in the Americas.
And this fella cares about their stories and writes them down and
then this other dude finds them and in an effort to establish harmony
and unity, makes a new myth for spiritual folk in America.
Forget literalism! It’s a cool story.
And its in that same spirit of Mormonism that I can tell you that
I’m sober.
I’m totally not high-in a metaphorical sense.
You see, when I body paint magical runes on myself and eat
chocolate covered cherries and watch the sunset over LA,
I can say that like every religion worth its weight in salt,
I’m operating at a purely mythic level.
So to answer your question:
Yes, I am perfectly fit to walk to
Jack In The Box.
Just write what you want down on this old google maps.

Hey! Oh my goodness. I mean oh my goodness! Good to see you. My. I haven’t seen you since Dave and Paul’s party this spring. Yeah! Yes, I remember you-silly! Of course. You look great. Just great! You’ve been working out. Pilates! Oh my gawd! I tried that once and nearly broke in half, girl! It works for you, though. Damn. I’m telling you, I was on my way to my second pilates class, and caught a different bus and went to The Massage Place on Montana instead. I said: “I value my life more than that.” Well, good for you. Wow. You look great. And I’ve got to say, your nose job looks alright. Yeah! Don’t be shy! No! It looks okay. Yeah. No, I’d heard some things, but from what I’d heard I had a totally different image in mind. But, no, it looks like…not bad at all. Totally. Would I lie? I’m like George Washington over here, girl. I’ll be the first to tell you I took somebody home last night and then passed out half way to second base and then kicked them out at six in the morning ‘cause I had the runs. No, believe me: its just about passable. Yeah! Are you walking this way? I can walk with you. Oh, I’m in a hurry too. Maybe I’ll just walk with you to the parking garage. Okay. Oh, you’re getting a phone call? Go ahead answer it, yeah, no, I’ll just walk with you.