JESUS

The True Life of Jesus

The Son of God
As we all know, more than 2,000 years ago, a little boy named Jesus was born in distant Bethlehem. But everything else written in the Bible is pure nonsense that we ought to forget as quickly as possible! The truth is, it all happened quite differently. Well, perhaps not everything, since it’s common knowledge that Jesus’s parents were named Mary and Joseph. Joseph, incidentally, was an exceptionally animal-loving man. Although he had actually trained as a carpenter, he very rarely intended to hold down a regular job and spent nearly all his time with the shepherds’ sheep. Because the sheep, you see, he loved especially—and he loved them a lot! Time to care for his wife Mary? Not a chance! Somehow, though, she had become a mother, and little Jesus gave poor Mary nothing but grief. “Only God knows how I ended up with this little failure!” she complained, and so the rumor spread that Jesus was the Son of God. And because people believed little Jesus could take away their sins by committing them himself, they gave him all the freedom one could possibly grant a child. Jesus had nothing but mischief on his mind. He cut off cats’ tails, pooped on the neighbors’ doorsteps, blew up frogs, raided birds’ nests, and, even at six years old, jerked off like crazy in full view of everyone. Once, he rolled around in the pigs’ manure. Covered head to toe in blackish-brown muck, he looked like a boy from Africa—not just in appearance, but in smell, too. Now, just around that time, one of the very first traveling circuses was passing through the country. Since Black people were a rare sight in Bethlehem back then, the circus folks captured him and locked him in a cage as their latest attraction. They let him go hungry for days, and the audience was delighted when he then lunged at a rotting rat and devoured it, grunting. When the circus moved on, of course they took little Jesus with them wherever they went. Over time, the boy became quite skilled at catching and biting rats to death. But eventually the dirt on Jesus’s body began to flake off, which hardly surprised the circus folks. Everyone generally believed the little Black boy was going through a shedding phase. Then, one day, a dreadful storm blew up along the road—one such as you hardly ever saw in those dry regions—and Jesus got soaked, too. Unfortunately, all the pig shit was washed off his body. When the circus folks realized they’d been mistaken, they threw Jesus out of his cage and left him in the wilderness. So little Jesus had to find himself a new home. He took refuge in a rocky cave. He caught a few tasty rats, just as he’d learned to do in the circus, and also hunted snakes, scorpions, and other creatures that could fill his belly. Jesus quickly settled into the area and never went hungry. What’s more, he had tamed a large crawling creature—a reptile that, penned in, guarded the entrance to his cave and, as a bonus, laid him a fresh egg every day. On Sundays it laid two. No one knows why. Little by little, he stole pots, pans, a hatchet, and even clothes from a nearby village. And so Jesus grew into a strapping man. One day, twelve men appeared in the valley. Their wives had kicked them out, and they hadn’t been able to find the Devil, so they asked Jesus for asylum. Since Jesus didn’t want to be too unkind, he gladly took them in at his cave. They were all younger than Jesus, so he called them his disciples. Naturally, Jesus had to provide his disciples with a delicious welcome meal, so he cooked a large rat, chopped off its tail, and cut the rest into twelve pieces. He divided those pieces among his twelve disciples and kept the rat’s tail for himself. It was a delicious supper, and night slowly fell.
The Flesh of Sin
When Jesus saw his twelve disciples lying naked by the fire, he got an erection. Since Jesus loved all people and had just realized that he was gay, the night inevitably turned into an orgy in the cave. Afterward, their rectums stuffed full of semen, they were all so exhausted that their loud snoring made the cave walls tremble. The next morning, of course, they were ravenous, so Jesus sent his disciples out into the wilderness to find food. Hunting big game was pointless: there were only small animals in the area. The disciples were therefore forced to look for prey in the nearby village. Since there was nothing else to hunt, two little girls had to do. They were clubbed to death and stuffed into sacks—today’s catch—and Jesus was delighted with the meat. He had never tried human flesh, but he was very curious about it. Besides, he was a good man, and from early childhood he had been raised as the Son of God to take every sin in the world into himself and cleanse humanity of evil. Eating the sinful flesh of human beings was a good way to bring that ambitious project a little closer to completion. The reptile was fed the intestines, heads, and hands of the two dead children; the rest was roasted over an open fire. What a feast! By evening, only bones were left, because thirteen grown men needed a lot of meat. The next day, Jesus sent his twelve disciples hunting again. And if there was no animal to catch, human flesh was perfectly acceptable. That day’s catch was a middle-aged man, also brought down with a club. Since he tasted excellent, too, it quickly became customary to procure human flesh from the nearby village every day. To be safe, however, the disciples shifted their main activity to the early morning hours. They kept killing people in the same way: all at once, they would descend on their victims, smash their skulls, stuff them into sacks, and bring them back to Jesus. Because Jesus was such a good man, eating human flesh helped him and his disciples take the sins of the population into themselves. After all, the goal was to wipe every sin from the face of the earth, and killing and eating sinful creatures was a worthwhile contribution. Since the sexual organs were considered the main seat of sin, however, Jesus insisted on eating those himself. Roasted penises, after all, were a very special delicacy. One day, though, the disciples brought back the body of an older woman. Jesus recognized his mother, even with her skull smashed in. But what could be done? Once dead, even this poor sinner could be roasted and eaten. Jesus had a good heart and forgave his disciples for their mistake. But to prevent anything like it happening again, he ordered them not to kill their victims on the spot. Instead, they were to pull a sack over each person and bring them alive to the rocky cave. The next day, the disciples brought back a pretty girl, a charming little thing perhaps twelve or thirteen years old at most. But since the disciples were not quite as gay as Jesus, they were each allowed to have their way with the little girl in turn, before Jesus himself took an hatchet and hacked off the top of her skull, subsequently having the girl’s corpse prepared in the customary manner. Her body was then prepared in the usual way. And, of course, the reptile got the scraps. Over the years, thanks to its generous supply of human remains, it had grown into a truly hideous monster and laid several eggs a day for Jesus and his twelve disciples. Those were carefree times, and if Jesus and his twelve disciples had had their way, they could have gone on forever. Unfortunately, the daily raids had practically emptied the nearby village of people. Procuring human flesh grew increasingly difficult, and more and more often the disciples returned with nothing but a few rats in their sacks. The reptile was getting hungry, too, and growing more aggressive toward Jesus and his disciples. Fortunately, it was still penned in and couldn’t get over the fence. And since Jesus wanted human flesh, one of the disciples had to make a sacrifice. They drew lots, and the fattest disciple drew the short straw. Since he still had a few pounds on him, Jesus decided to use only part of him that day and save the rest for the next. But in that heat, meat only stayed fresh if it was alive. So the disciple’s remains had to be kept alive, too. Jesus chopped off both his legs and then roasted them over the fire. After such a lean spell, the human drumsticks tasted especially delicious. But the mutilated disciple wouldn’t eat, no matter how lovingly food was offered to him again and again. In fact, he behaved strangely that evening, and by the next morning he was dead. So they quickly threw him on the fire. Jesus and the remaining disciples had meat for two days, and the reptile got its share, too. But then the meat was gone again, and this time none of the disciples was willing to volunteer as a sacrifice. Jesus grew angry with them, called them a selfish pack, and finally began swinging his hatchet wildly at them. It was a horrific slaughter: blood splattered across every cave wall, and human body parts whirled through the air. Jesus managed to relieve ten of them of the burden of life, but the eleventh, a man named Judas, escaped the cave, losing his right forearm in the process. Jesus stood amid the fresh meat, out of breath but well supplied.
Glorious Deeds
The meat kept Jesus well fed over the following days, though in the high temperatures it began to spoil quickly. Nothing did Jesus long for more in those days than a refrigerator, but unfortunately it had not yet been invented, so he had to use up the stores piled in the cave as fast as possible. He was beginning to feel sick at the sight of his food, especially as maggots soon crawled everywhere in the living area and over the meat, while swarms of blowflies made it hard to breathe. The stench and the fluid seeping from the decaying flesh made the living conditions even worse. Not even rats lived there anymore, and Jesus decided to say goodbye to his once-cozy home and pack his things. Before leaving, however, he let the now extremely dangerous reptile out of its pen, since he couldn’t take it with him. It immediately lumbered toward the cave to feast on the disciples’ badly decayed remains. While it was distracted, Jesus slipped away unnoticed and set off into the unknown. He crossed deep ravines and vast, endless stretches of wilderness until his sandals wore through and he had to continue barefoot. By then, he was skin and bones, having lived for weeks in the wasteland on nothing but locusts, scorpions, and other meager fare. One day he reached a stream and followed it, hoping eventually to find people. The stream grew wider and wider, and when it began to resemble a river, Jesus spotted a city on the opposite bank. The water was very shallow, in places not even reaching his ankles, so it truly looked as if he were walking on water. On the far bank, Jesus met an old man who asked him, “Tell me, how can you walk across this water?” “I am the Son of God!” Jesus cried. “I have come to redeem humankind from sin, for I am your Savior!” “Lord, let me be your devoted servant!” said the old man, and Jesus let him. The old man led Jesus to the city marketplace, where Jesus called out to the people: “I am Jesus, the Son of God, and I have been chosen to cleanse you of sin, for I am your Savior! So I tell you: only those willing to make sacrifices in life will one day sit at God’s right hand. I have spoken!” The people bowed low before Jesus and his servant, for common folk in those days were very gullible. Even the honorable mayor was so captivated by the speech of this charismatic, if emaciated, man that he immediately gave him his splendid estate, swimming pool and all, and moved into a small burrow by the river. Nor was the mayor’s estate all Jesus received. A slave ship had been sent to bring one hundred Nubian women, all very young, gazelle-like beauties, from whom Jesus was allowed to choose the twelve loveliest as his slaves. He had the rest of the ship’s human cargo beheaded, claiming he was protecting the city’s people from temptation. Jesus branded each of the twelve Nubian slaves across the décolletage and made them wear heavy gold necklaces. Though the jewelry pressed painfully against their brands, Jesus expressly forbade them from ever taking it off, believing that the discomfort would make them more obedient. To keep air from reaching the skin beneath the itchy jewelry and prevent the women from engaging in any lustful activity, he forced them to wear tight clothing even in the worst heat—clothes unlike anything they had known in their Nubian homeland. He also wanted to make sure his servant would not see them naked and become attracted to them. Even so, it was inevitable that the old man sometimes caught glimpses of their bare skin. For the most trivial reasons, Jesus had him whip the women, and their clothes only got in the way. Jesus greatly enjoyed watching these scenes, though he insisted that his interest was not sexual: after all, the Savior was and remained openly gay. Sometimes, however, the sound of the whip striking the women’s battered bodies aroused the old man so much that he ejaculated during the whipping. Jesus found that rather sexy. Afterward, the old man was happy to let his master use him sexually. Sometimes Jesus also made him perform oral sex; given that age had left him with only three tooth stumps, the Savior found it especially pleasant. Yes, life was good. Jesus had achieved perfect prosperity. Over time he grew bolder and more adventurous, filled with strange visions and mystical revelations. Eventually he began demanding sacrifices of ever greater value, which the gullible citizens willingly supplied. At first they did so hesitantly, but later they brought them more and more often. Then, one day, they delivered the first human sacrifice: a man who had committed adultery. Jesus first bound the gagged victim to a hallowed tree in the garden, then proceeded to saw off the man’s penis with a dull knife. While still consuming the adulterer’s genitals, he set about slicing open the tormented man’s abdomen with the same blade, causing his entrails to spill out. For two hours, the victim endured hellish agony, while Jesus reveled in the spectacle. To further arouse himself, Jesus rolled around naked—with an unmistakable erection—in the victim’s pooling blood. When the Savior finally untied him, the man collapsed. Jesus sexually abused him again as he died. Jesus and his servant consumed the man’s flesh. The next sacrifice was a woman. As a warning to his twelve slaves, Jesus whipped her to death in front of them, then ordered them to dismember her. Before long, bringing Jesus human sacrifices became almost an everyday occurrence. In his effort to cleanse humanity of sin, the Savior devised the strangest methods of killing them. His supply of human flesh was now secure, especially since he could preserve it with salt. He had also acquired a small smoker. Jesus himself ate only the muscle meat, external sexual organs, and brains of the human sacrifices, while his servant made do with the less desirable entrails. The old man also got whatever was in the victims’ stomachs and intestines. The twelve slaves, meanwhile, were forbidden from eating any meat at all. To stay in shape, the gazelle-like beauties had to follow Christ’s strict orders and live as vegans. Indeed, Jesus had come a long way in life: from a brat who played with his own poop to a demigod. And still he aspired to something greater.
The Noble Art of Healing
Jesus cared deeply about children’s well-being. Although he was especially fond of boys, he regularly had children of both sexes brought to him, exposed them to sexual behavior, and made them play with his own feces. They were supposed to mold it into animals and figures, which were then baked and could be taken home by the children. The children loved this pastime, and Jesus truly took touching care of them. They had an excellent teacher in the Son of God, and many parents also brought their boys to Jesus to be circumcised. But what Jesus hated more than anything was children born out of wedlock. Such human refuse had to be eliminated, preferably before birth. That was why he was especially eager to help unmarried pregnant women. He had his servant strap them to a specially made table, then used a knife to open their bodies and remove the fetus. As punishment for their sins, the Savior liked to sew the bodies of small animals into the women’s abdominal cavities. To take sin into himself, Jesus ate the fetus raw, in front of the women who had just undergone surgery, if it was still very small. If it was further along, he cooked it in hot fat before eating it. Sometimes a fetus was already viable and cried for a few seconds as Jesus placed it in the sizzling pan. Jesus liked to enjoy a blood-thickened amniotic-fluid soup as a starter. Even when the women died in unbearable agony a few days later because of the animal carcasses sewn inside them, the townspeople saw it only as punishment for their sins. Jesus was also regularly brought babies born out of wedlock. Along with human brains and genitals, they were a delicacy of the finest quality. The Son of God always found newborns especially delicious, whether steamed, braised, salted, or smoked whole after being skinned. It was no wonder he called the human infant a culinary treasure chest. People truly did everything for Jesus, their redeemer. Many volunteered for all kinds of medical procedures, until the demigod eventually declared himself a doctor. The fact that doctors are sometimes still called “gods in white” is no coincidence. One of the Savior’s first patients, for example, suffered from constipation. A lubricant was needed, so the patient’s abdomen was cut open, a rotten egg was crushed inside, and the whole thing was neatly sewn back up. The patient died the next day, but what could be done? Jesus still lacked some experience as a doctor. At least he had fresh meat again. Jesus made some progress in skinning people alive. He had a special wooden frame built that allowed him to suspend patients by their hands and feet with meat hooks, leaving them completely immobilized and easy to treat from every side. The real art, however, was removing as much skin as possible while keeping the patient alive for as long as possible. The best way to do this was to pull the skin from the flesh in narrow strips. Hands, feet, faces, and the areas around the ears always caused trouble. And aside from the fact that none of the patients lasted more than a few hours, skinning them alive was an extremely bloody business. But the strips of meat more than made up for it when braised. Babies, incidentally, were much easier to skin, often in one piece, and sometimes they even lived for a few more minutes. In any case, Jesus was better at castrating boys and men with rusty pliers than at skinning them. At least a few survived the procedure. One woman whom he had sewn a dead fish into did die, however. Every now and then, another patient died during treatment after choking on their own vomit. It was invariably fatal, too, when Jesus made a hole in a strapped-down patient’s abdomen and used a funnel to fill the abdominal cavity with boiling fat. There was also a large wooden spoon in Christ’s house. Jesus had carved a deep groove into it, making it ideal for removing eyeballs. With increasing frequency, Jesus also tried to imitate his divine Father by sewing decaying body parts from human and animal corpses onto his patients, hoping they would take root and become fresh again. In one case, a goat’s head stuck out of a man’s side; in another, rotting duck heads dangled from a young woman’s breasts. But these attempts to meddle with creation failed without exception, and all the patients died in agony. Still, more and more people offered themselves to Jesus, for they had boundless trust in the demigod. Anyone who died served the Savior as food after he had used their corpse for his own purposes. His old, faithful servant had also since gone the way of all flesh on Christ’s estate: a severe injury to his sphincter had killed him. As a result, Jesus no longer had any use for the lower-quality scraps, which piled up in a hidden corner at the back of the estate in tall, sky-stinking heaps. None of this slowed Jesus down. He continued to indulge his impulses without restraint. Over the years, he had gained valuable medical knowledge. He now knew from countless experiments that people died when parts of decaying animal carcasses were sewn into them. He had also learned that it was bad for patients’ health to let them walk around partially skinned. He had his front teeth filed to sharp points, too, so he could bite off the breasts of disobedient adulteresses more easily. His mouth consequently resembled a shark’s, which is why fish are still a symbol of Christ today. Jesus always had plenty to do. He often inflicted unbearable pain on patients strapped to his table with flaming torches, hoping to drive demons from their bodies. Only a handful survived, and those who did bore terrible burn scars for the rest of their lives. No one can say how many people met their end on his operating table, often in bizarre positions and with grotesquely twisted faces. The townspeople were undisturbed by the terrible screams of pain that could be heard almost daily from Christ’s estate, or by the cloud of putrid stench that hung over much of the city. They were firmly convinced that it all served the higher, divine purpose of eradicating every sin. There was always plenty to do on Christ’s estate, and the Son of God was never bored. Besides, he still had his eleven Nubian slaves. Eleven? That’s right—one of them was no longer alive. On an especially hot day, she could no longer bear the weight of her heavy necklace. In the partial shade of a date palm, she took off her tight clothing to relieve the itching beneath the jewelry and let some air reach her brand. Jesus heard her moaning and, when he saw her sitting naked and touching herself beneath the necklace, flew into a rage. After all, he had expressly forbidden his slaves from engaging in any lustful activity. As punishment, he decided to treat her as he usually treated adulteresses. In front of the other slaves, he strapped her—naked and with her legs spread unnaturally wide—onto the treatment table, then rammed a scimitar, heated over an open fire until it glowed a bright red, deep into her vagina, driving it in up to the hilt. As he slowly twisted the blade while withdrawing it from the victim’s body, charred scraps of flesh clung to the metal. To remove them, he had to heat the scimitar in the fire once more, only to plunge it deep into the Nubian sinner’s vagina yet again. The Savior repeated this process until the tormented woman finally succumbed to her agony—a grim warning to the other slaves. Her flesh, incidentally, was exceptionally tasty because of her strict vegan diet.
The Downfall
Over time, Jesus developed a confidence that came close to delusions of grandeur. Nearly every day, people from near and far subjected themselves to his bizarre experiments, almost all of which ended in death. They did it in the hope that Jesus might free humanity from every sin, for he was regarded as a good man. On a Friday the 13th, Jesus was sitting down to lunch, enjoying a tasty bowl of fetus soup, when he heard the ringing of the small bell outside the gate of his estate and an old, frail man asked to be let in. Jesus admitted him, assuming the stranger had come to undergo one of his treatments. Still, the tottering old man seemed strangely familiar. “Tell me, what brings you here?” Jesus asked. “I am Joseph,” the old man replied. “Joseph, your father!” “Lies!” Jesus roared, beside himself with fury. “Lies! I have only one father, and that is God! I am the one who frees humanity from every sin! And your lies are a sin! To hell with you!” He seized a freshly sharpened axe within reach and charged at the old man, screaming with rage. Joseph was dead after four blows, but Jesus continued hacking away in a fury until the body was reduced to pieces and the axe was nearly as dull as a hammer. The Savior was completely out of breath when he had finished. But now he knew that some people harbored quiet doubts about his divine origins. Jesus reheated the rest of his soup and calmly resumed his interrupted lunch, unaware that his run of bad luck was far from over. Some time later, another stranger turned up in town. Part of his right forearm was missing, and the poorly healed stump was badly damaged. The man was looking for Jesus. It was Judas, the only one of Jesus’s former disciples still alive. But Judas had not come to ask the Son of God to heal his injury. No — he had sworn to take the cruelest revenge on Jesus. He kept that from the townspeople, telling the uneasy crowd only that Jesus must be a fraud. Naturally, the townspeople didn’t believe him. They still remembered how Jesus had once walked on water. But Judas had crossed the river himself to reach the town and knew exactly where it was shallow. To prove his point, he led the angry crowd down to the river and walked through the shallows to the opposite bank and back again. The mayor had watched the whole thing from his little earthen hut. Now the people of the town were convinced: Jesus was a fraud. “Kill him!” they shouted in unison, and set off together to storm his estate. Jesus was less than pleased by the many visitors. Though he desperately swung his axe and badly wounded several of the furious townspeople, he couldn’t fight off so many attackers. But they didn’t actually intend to kill him. They had thought of something else to do to him. East of town stood several large wooden crosses, meant for nailing up criminals and other villains—a fashionable punishment in those days. Unfortunately, the crosses were still covered with human remains, and the townspeople hadn’t had time to clean them off. Luckily, the town’s master carpenter had a magnificent wooden cross in stock. After the mob drove Jesus from his estate, the poor Son of God was forced to carry the heavy cross out of town himself. At the gates, the crowd stripped Jesus and, working together, nailed his hands and feet to the cross. The ordeal caused the Savior considerable distress. He bellowed, bared his sharklike teeth, and cursed at the top of his lungs. Holy blood flowed from his wounds and soaked the parched earth. For decoration, they placed a lovely crown of thorns on his head. But before the cross was raised, Judas couldn’t resist using the sharp bone fragments at the end of his damaged arm to make a small cut in Jesus’s side. Just because. Once the cross had been raised, the crowd left Jesus alone and returned to town to celebrate. Since the crucifixion had taken place east of town, the celebration came to be called Easter. The festivities were especially lively at Christ’s estate, which the mayor had reclaimed as his personal property. There was food—though not human flesh, despite the plentiful supply—along with dancing and music. The mayor now also owned the eleven Nubian enslaved women, who had since reached their forties. Though their backs were permanently scarred by years of abuse, their vegan diet had kept them beautiful. They still wore their heavy collars, and the mayor had an idea of how much they suffered beneath them. At the very least, he was eager to see his new treasures without the jewelry. So it was an indescribable relief when, before the cheering crowd, the painfully irritating burden of gold was finally removed. Years of wearing the ornaments had left their necks and shoulders scarred and scabbed, while the exposed brands on their chests glistened in the sun. What a relief! During the celebration, the Nubian women couldn’t get enough of rubbing and massaging one another’s sore shoulders and sensitive brands. A special thrill came from having cool wine poured over the marks. Wine flowed freely. The mood was jubilant, and the mayor officially appointed Judas as his deputy. Meanwhile, a large group of townspeople set about clearing Christ’s former estate of body parts and other human remains. It was an exceptionally dirty job: wagonloads of bone fragments, decayed organs, and unidentifiable, foul-smelling scraps of flesh were hauled out of town. But the diligent workers did such a thorough job that the mayor was delighted and named them the world’s first official cleaning company. And Jesus? He surely would have liked to join in the lovely Easter celebration—if only the cross hadn’t been giving him such trouble.
The Trouble with the Cross
Truly, the poor Savior had been put in a terrible predicament by wicked Judas. Jesus was not pleased! But there was nothing the Son of God could do to change his situation. Alone and surrounded by flies, the poor wretch hung from his cross out in the countryside. The blowflies crawled over his wounds, laid their eggs there, and fed on his holy blood. Eventually, Jesus needed to relieve himself. Unfortunately, he had come down with a terrible bout of diarrhea, and the foul mess running down the cross attracted even more flies. “Holy shit!” he thought, especially when an unbearable itch began. If one of his hands had been free, he could have scratched himself. But that was only a fantasy. All in all, hanging on the cross in that position was extremely uncomfortable. He slept very badly that night, and by the next day tiny maggots were crawling over his wounds and the filthy area below, making his misery even worse. That itch, that unbearable itch! Holy shit! he thought, especially since his anus also began to itch like crazy. If he’d had a hand free, he could have given it a good scratch. But that remained just a dream. He struggled and tugged all day, but couldn’t pull his hands free from the nails. Consequently, he found it very difficult to sleep at night, and by the next day, tiny maggots were already crawling all over his wounds and his filthy anal region, causing him even further torment. The blazing midday sun made matters worse. But most of all, the itching was driving him mad. Filled with wistful longing, he looked back on the days when his servant used to pamper his anal region with such tenderness. Ah, how wonderful those times had been! The very thought of it aroused him so intensely that he developed an erection. Yet, the painful realization struck him anew: he was still hanging on the cross, unable even to masturbate, as neither of his hands was free. He screamed his frustration out into the wilderness, but there was no one around to hear it. Or rather, it was not a human who heard the Savior’s cries. Jesus, fearing he was succumbing to a hallucination, suddenly caught sight of a colossal, black-scaled beast—a creature that bore a striking resemblance to the reptile that had once guarded the entrance to his cave. Yes, the reptile—a faithful companion from his youth—had come to visit its former master, Jesus, at the cross. Over the years, it had grown to an immense size. »Get me down!« Jesus commanded the primordial creature, hoping it would heed his plea. The reptile lumbered toward the cross, reared up on its hind legs, and began to explore Jesus’s body from head to toe with its forked tongue. It lingered with particular intensity upon his still-erect penis; just as Jesus was on the verge of ejaculating, the reptile clamped its jaws—possessing an unfathomable strength—around his body and tore the Son of God from the cross. In a blood-fueled frenzy, the creature ripped great chunks of flesh from the dying body of Christ, bringing his glorious life to a violent end. As the final drops of semen trickled from his now-limp member, the Son of God lost consciousness. Yes, the reptile had taken him from the cross at the very moment of his most pleasurable ejaculation—which is why, to this day, people speak of “getting off.” Jesus no longer felt the creature tearing his holy body apart and devouring him piece by piece. He was so delicious that the reptile left nothing behind, then disappeared for good. The next day, the mayor set out with Judas and several city officials to see whether Jesus was still alive. During the Easter celebrations, they had decided not to let him die on the cross after all; the crucifixion had only been meant to teach him a little lesson. After three days, they planned to release him and set him free. But the men were astonished to find nothing at the cross but foul traces and dried blood. Jesus was nowhere to be seen. Who could have taken him? The mayor and his companions had not the slightest doubt: God must have taken him up to heaven. Now they were certain the Savior really had been the Son of God, and the townspeople felt terribly guilty for treating him so badly. But what good was guilt when Jesus was gone? Hindsight is always clearer. The uncertainty over whether Jesus truly was the Son of God was deeply distressing—not only to the people of that region. In the end, they concluded that only the Savior’s return could bring them relief. And so the people waited, and waited, and waited.
Well, that is how Christianity eventually came into being: a faith in which people still await Christ’s arrival and the salvation that will come with it. But that probably won’t happen, and it may take a while for the last of them to figure that out. Now that the true story of Christ’s life has finally been pieced together, here is one last consolation for all those who have waited in vain: perhaps Jesus has already been born again—as a famous figure such as Adolf Hitler, Jack the Ripper, or Saddam Hussein. For, as everyone knows, God’s ways are mysterious.