Jesus Christ bit into his Chick fil-A sandwich, giving thanks for the time travel machine that the Father Almighty had invented -- or rather the one Noah had unknowingly invented. Technicalities, technicalities.
Tsssk... Technicalities. There wasn't anything Jesus hated more...
Looking around him, Jesus thought the people of 2013 really did need saving. He didn't need to be God to know that. But surprisingly, that hadn't been why his Father had sent him to the future. The Father Almighty had an ulterior motive...
The fulfillment of his father's request was to be no easy task. He had seen the signs that stood guard in the churches' entryways.
If you think it's hot here, try Hell, one had seemingly spat at him. And he couldn't help but scratch his head at this one. He didn't even know what -- that was. Was it supposed to make him want to go inside the church?
He had kept on walking. Truth be told, the church and sign had scared the Hell out of him and that was really saying something...
The other church sign he had passed had read, Free thinkers are Slaves of Satan. Jesus, knowing himself to be the free thinker that he was, wouldn't be caught dead in that church.
Yes, his mission wasn't going to be easy. So, in the meantime, he figured he'd do a few other things on the side.
He'd change some water to wine, feed some bums of New York, and if he had time -- raise Larry King from the dead.
Jesus sighed and took another bite of his sandwich. The food wasn't too bad. But then again, he had better. But still, he had better eat up. He would need the energy and he was already tired. Getting into America had been nothing but a headache. Coming from Israel, he had been denied entry into the United States thrice times. What was it with the number three? Jesus wondered. It was right up there with 666 as far as "screwing him royally over" went.
Customs and airport security hadn't cared for him. Maybe it was his darker skin and Mediterranean accent. Then there had been the fact that God had forgotten to pack his passport in the Ark that was the time machine. But it was all good. His Father had sent a distraction ( a Leper as it were, who climbed aboard the Ark in secret, a stowaway). But because of the Leper Jesus had managed to sneak by. The CDC hadn't cared much for the eyesore that was the Leper.
Across from him at the table was Peter and next to him, Judas. He saw the way Peter looked at Judas and he saw the way Judas looked at Peter. He was certain the Father had noticed it too. Had that been why God had sent them and not the others? Jesus wondered.
He looked around the restaurant, noticing the stares. He knew why they stared and it wasn't because he was Jesus Christ. Jesus smiled and his eyes twinkled with amusement. He had seen the supposed portraits of himself in the shops. It was almost enough to make him laugh. Almost.
And suddenly it hit him. This was where it was all going to go down. This was the place where he was to promulgate his Father's will...
Just as Jesus had taken his first bite out of his chicken sandwich, a man of great prominence walked into Chick fil-A. Everyone in the restaurant recognized the balding, plump TV personality. This man had been in a good mood, but that was before he spotted the terrorist and gay couple sitting together over in the corner. He had known right away they were gay. He could smell it.
"A Terrorist and a couple of fags dining in a family restaurant such as this," he muttered. "WHAT is this world coming to?"
Jesus, being God, sort of (Jesus got a little confused himself at times too, call it identity crisis or whatever you like, with the whole Trinity deal) had heard the man's snide comment. Superhuman hearing was one of many perks of being God.
Jesus right away could tell how this man had gotten his name. And he felt a trace of pity for this man, whose name curiously enough was a verb, ironically enough for this man often rushed to hasty, ignorant judgments, ultimately made in vain...
"What was that?" Jesus yelled from across the restaurant.
The man he was, felt no shame and repeated the word, louder this time. "Fag. Wouldn't be surprised... you associating yourself with the likes of them. You three, uh planning a little get together later?"
"Why? Did you wanna join?" Judas asked.
Jesus kicked Judas lightly under the table. "Traitor," Jesus hissed.
Jesus turned his attention back onto the foul man. Are you calling me a 'fag'?" Jesus asked.
The man shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I am." He turned to the cashier behind the counter, and paid for his chicken and said, "Notice how he didn't deny the terrorist part."
"Let he who is without sin be the first to cast the first chicken leg," Jesus said.
And the radio host looked like he was about to do just that. Holding the chicken bucket with his right hand, his left hand was dangling above the brim of the bucket, (his left arm was his good throwing arm) at the ready. "You don't know who you're talking to? Do you know who I am?"
"Do you know who I am? What I am?" Jesus asked.
The two men yelling at each other from across the restaurant had caught the attention of the people eating in the restaurant. They whispered amongst each other. "Was that really him? The TV host? Why yes it was! And it was appearing he was challenging a... terrorist?"
Good for him, most of the people in the restaurant thought. If anyone had the nerve, the gall, the courage, to call out a terrorist, it would be this guy!
"I'll tell you what you are," the man bellowed as he toddled his way towards Jesus, Peter, and Judas.
"You're a Homo!"
"I am the Horn of Salvation!"
"You're a Faggot!"
"I am the Father!"
"You're a Sodomite!"
"I am the Savior! The Seed of Abraham!"
"You're a Butt Pirate!"
"I am the Bread of Life!"
"You're a Fudgepacker!"
"I am the Firstborn!"
"You're... you're Gay!" Rush was running out of witty, funny things to say.
"I am... God!"
"You're going to Hell for saying that."
More and more customers were flocking to the man's side. Jesus saw through them and he knew some to be long time followers of his -- others were supporting him out of fear, fearing they would support the "losing" party.
Jesus folded his hands and prayed for a sickbag.
A man pushed his way through the crowd. Jesus knew him to be the manager of the restaurant.
"What's going on here?" the manager asked.
The man whispered into the manager's ears. The manager had recognized him right away. He was a regular here at Chick fil-A. The manager looked from the celebrity and his fans to the Muslim and his two gay friends.
It was either Jesus and his disciples or the man and his disciples. Jesus didn't have to be the prophet that he was to know which one the manager would choose.
He turned to Jesus and his disciples. "Gentlemen; I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the manager said. Jesus could tell by the man's eyes that he was reluctant.
"If you would just give me one minute -- " Jesus began.
"Sorry, but I'm gonna have to go with Mr. Limbo on this one."
"Limbo?" the man scoffed. "That's now how you pron-- "
"My Father did not send me, his Son, into the world to condemn the world, or to save it... my Father knows a lost cause when he sees one," Jesus began.
A woman had flashed out her iPhone and was getting it all on video.
Jesus was glad. Everyone needed to hear this. And so, ignoring the manager, he got up and stood up on the table, and continued addressing the crowd.
"I have come to simply tell you that my Father has grown tired and frustrated of the unemployed life," Jesus continued. "He wants his job back." Jesus stared at the fat man on his latter statement.
The crowd gasped. "God? Job back? Why, the man's off his rocker!" a man cried. Others cried, "Blasphemy!"
"If you'll let me explain... " But for the third time, Jesus was interrupted.
Maybe if I read some text from the Holy Text, Jesus thought. And so Jesus reached inside his coat pocket for the Bible that his Father had packed for him. "I brought a B-- "
"Bomb! He was gonna say he brought a bomb!" Rush interrupted. "Did you hear him? Bomb! He said bomb!"
Because a bomb was no match for flying chicken, Rush hurled his untouched chicken leg at Jesus, hitting him square in the face. And soon, the others too began hurling their half-eaten chicken at Jesus, Peter, and Judas.
Jesus frowned, wishing he had brought along the other disciples. He was feeling a little bit outnumbered here. He motioned to his disciples for them to get out of here.
And so Jesus, Peter, and Judas were congregating outside Chick fil-A contemplating their next move. And then... a siren's scream off in the distance.
"To the Time Machine!" Jesus ordered.
They didn't have to be told twice. Well, except for Peter. He had to be told three times.
And as they ran to the back parking lot where the Ark was parked (no one had seemed to notice), Jesus pondered the day's happenings. It was safe to say God wasn't getting his job back anytime soon. Deciding who was to go to Hell and who wasn't to go to Hell -- apparently was no longer a specialized skill of the divine. Not in today's work force.
The people didn't need Him. They had each other. And more importantly -- they had that imbecile.
Unbeknownst to Jesus, the Father Almighty's will would be done. God had gambled... it was true... but God had an ace in the hole.
The customers in Chick fil-A had heard Jesus yelling something about a time machine and so they had scrambled outside in curiosity. (The loud, fat man hadn't heard it; he had been in the bathroom.)
Coming out of the bathroom, his belly rumbled and hunger gnawed at him. He had used all his chicken as ammunition and so he grabbed an untouched chicken leg from one of the tables. He sat down and began to eat.
Where was everyone? And that's when he looked out the window and saw the Ark... and, it began levitating above the parking lot. And it began to shake and rumble as it went higher and higher and then... GONE! This had sent a glob of chicken to the back of his throat. Choking, he fell to his knees and looked desperately around for someone to help. But there was no one. He was alone. Everyone had followed God outside to the Ark...
And for the first time in his life, Rush Limbaugh had a true epiphany -- er, rather three epiphanies.
I'm gonna die....
I told God to go to Hell.
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