So I bumped into Jesus at the WaWa this morning…
ME: So I see you got your masks on. Good idea.
RHONDA THE ARMENIAN: Yeah you people all got the creepin’ crud and I don’t want any part of it. So back off, or you can eat 10 lbs. o’ knuckles in a 5 lb. bag!!
ME: What does that even mean?
RHONDA: Get over here and I’ll show you what it means, Snowhead!!!! I’ll mop the floor with ya….”
JESUS: Rhonda! Be nice.
RHONDA: Eh, she bugs me big time.
JESUS: Don’t mind her. Yeah we got our masks. We’re in the high risk category, being seniors and all. I’m in pretty good shape for 2,020 years old, but why take chances, capisce? There’s a dance at the Elks on Saturday and I really want to go. The last thing I need is to get sick.
RHONDA: Dancin’. That’s all you think about. Mr. Party like it’s 33 A.D Man. Meanwhile the whole world stinks like a fish what’s been left in the sun too long.
ME: Oy. She’s a pip. Can’t you fix her personality?
JESUS: Some miracles are above my pay grade. What’s on your mind, Lambie?
ME: This corona virus thing. Some people are saying that this is a new plague sent to us from certain members of your family. That’s not true, is it?
JESUS: You’re kidding me, right? Do you honestly think Dad does stuff like that?
ME: Well the book says…
JESUS: The book, the book the book! I’m sick of the book. You might as well believe in the Farmer’s Almanac. Listen, you don’t want the plague? Don’t let rats tap dance on your cheese plate. Clean up! You don’t want locusts? Too bad. They come around every 17 years, whether you like it or not. If Dad wanted to mess with you that way he’d of had them come every year on the 4th of July weekend, just to screw up your barbecue.
ME: What about boils?
JESUS: Boils? Ick. Boils, schmoils. What kind of family do you think I belong to? Take a bath! Don’t eat dairy! What do we know from boils?
RHONDA: Yer right boss. I think ole ice cream top needs a good smiting. You want I should take care of her?
JESUS: Rhonda go get us some coffee. Can you spare a couple of bucks?
ME: Sure.
JESUS: Look. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you this, but my Father doesn’t know how to do mean stuff. He’s cool. He’s loving. He’d give you the robe off his back. This virus just happened spontaneously, although personally I think the Russians had something to do with it. Anyway, it’s here, and we’ll deal with it. And you can bet your hiney that if you croak from it, one of Dad’s people will be right there to escort you home. He’s good that way.
RHONDA: Here ya go boss. And silver fox, I need another five bucks for lottery tickets. So cough it up.
ME: I will not!
JESUS: Rhonda, go drink your coffee. I’m sorry about her.
ME: So am I.
RHONDA: Why I oughta….!
JESUS: Run!
ME: Love you!
JESUS: Back atcha!
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