Papal Decree: "My God Can Kick Your God's Ass"
Predator Press
[LOBO]
"Look," said Pope Benedict XXX during the press conference. "I can't throw a rock without hitting a 'Church of Agnostic Baptist Jesuit Diagonal Orthodoxies' or whatever anymore -you mushheads would worship iced tea and spotted rocks if Tom Cruise told you to."
"Tom Cruise hates tea!" called someone in the background.
"Facts are facts people," Benedict continues, rubbing his temple in exasperation. "The bulk of you are going to burn in the Lake of Fire forever. And with electric eel enemas if I have anything to say about it too ... from here on out, I'm goin' Old Testament on yer asses!"
-The news that God hates and has doomed them all to Hell forever came as quite a shock to theologians across the world.
"I was so wrong all this time," says the dejected Dalai Lama. "Have you any idea how long I've been waiting to get one of them cool hats?"
"Hello Dalai," laughs the Pope, pulling the corners of his eyes into a squinty expression. "-So solly! I wear this hat, and only I wears this hat. This hat is deeply-rooted in the tradition of being a symbol of the One True Faith. But you can buy a nice baseball cap at the Vatican gift shop. I'll even Bless it for you."
Suddenly, Gandhi leaps from the shadows. Grabbing Benedict's hat, he scampers off. "Haha," he chimes, hat teetering dangerously as he dances in gleeful victory.
"Gimmee my hat back, you asceticist hippie freak!" shrieks Benedict. "I'll poke your eye out with this here pointy stick!"
"Alright that's it Gandhi," says Jesus, rolling up his sleeves. "I'm kicking your ass all the way up and down the Eightfold Path."
"You do that, and I'll tell your Dad," says Buddha.
"Oh really Buddha?" says Jesus holding up both fists. "As far as Gods go, you're pretty lame. I mean you can't even grow hair. And how about putting down the cheese sticks and spending a little time on that Nordic Track we got you for Christmas?"
"Wow," says Buddha, eyeing Jesus' circling fists. "I didn't know you were a southpaw."
"I'm not a southpaw," Jesus replies. "What makes you think I'm a southpaw?"
"Your left hand has the bone structure of a southpaw."
"Really?" says Jesus, inspecting it closely. "I've never noticed a-"
Just then Buddha smacked His elbow, driving Jesus' Holy fist into His own Holy nose.
"Buddha, stop messing with Jesus," says Mohamed, storming into the room. Sizing up Buddha's girth, he whistles. "Dude, we all pitched in on that Nordic Track. Did you even open the box?"
"Hey hey hey," demands Benedict. "Shut the door behind you or you will let out the air conditioning!"
"Yeah Mohamed," says Gandhi. "Were you born in a barn?"
"Oh, very funny," says Jesus. "My Dad can kick the crap out of all you guys."
"Yeah?" says Buddha. "Where exactly did you read that?"
"It's in the Bible."
"I thought God wrote the Bible," says Ganesha.
"He did," says Jesus.
"Okay," says Shiva. "Lessee here. If my Dad wrote a book about kicking other Gods' butts, I wonder how it would turn out ... "
"Excuse me," I says, clearing my throat.
"What the hell is that?" asked Buddha.
"That is one of My Father's creations," says Jesus. "His name is LOBO."
"Ewe," says Pelé. "I'm going to have to rinse my eyes in lava to burn this image out."
"How revolting," says Buddha. "Just look at his skin. Blech. He must play a lot of Final Fantasy XII. Jesus, your Dad is taking credit for that?"
"Maybe," says Jesus reflectively. "I think maybe I better check my facts here."
"Well, look into it," says Pelé. "I'll bet if you ever had to get an eyewash from a volcano, you would be a lot more careful."
"You could 'poki' you eye out," says Benedict. "Eh? Eh?"
[Nobody got it]
"He isn't even wearing any fish skeletons!" remarks Poseidon.
"Be serious P," says Tupoc. "This punk-ass loser ain't got no bling."
"Am I late for the party?" asks Zeus. "I brought everybody gold!"
"You better keep that 'Shower of Gold' in your pants Mister," says Hera, "or Perseus is going to public school!"
[All laugh]
"It's all good baby," says Zeus. "It's all good."
"Okay," says Benedict. "Nobody got my 'poki' joke, but Hera is all the rage by joking lamely about her husband's infidelities?"
"Dude," whispers Shiva. "Don't go there. Zeus gets pissed. Turns you into crap."
"Well Hera is an enabler," Benedict reasons.
"Uh, yeah, okay," guffaws Shiva, rolling her eyes. "If 'enabler' is a euphemism for slut."
"Excuse me," I repeat, clearing my throat.
"Jesus," breathes Ghandi. "Are they just letting anyone in here now?"
"It appears so," says Jesus.
"What is it repulsive little mortal man?" demands Pelé.
"Hey sister," says the Dalai Lama. "I wouldn't talk so tough. You eat poi. Blech. Eating poi is like eating a big bowl of acne."
"This dialogue is getting a little complex," I interrupt. "I'm only a blogger. But since you're here together, can't you just slug it out to the death once and for all? It would be a lot simpler to write about, and I only got about six shots left on my disposable camera anyways. This is the reel from Cancun."
"Fight to the death?" asks Shiva. "Why would we do that? Without many of us to choose between, humans wouldn't have the ability to decide who to worship. And what good is an entire mortal lifetime not squandered over the amusing fear of cryptic laws, weird rituals of worship, moral ambiguity, perpetual doubt, and the ever-present potential consequence of Eternal Damnation?"
"Well that's kinda what I'm getting at," I says. "Can't you all just duke it out right now and settle this big mystery? A single God would really take the pressure off, and that's what we're looking for really: a dynamic God with a refreshing 'can-do' attitude. That way we can just stop with all these headaches and just build Him or Her pyramids or whatever under a crushing, repressive theocratic reign for the rest of Eternity in happiness."
"I can see his point," says Gandhi. "One God and one simple set of rules would really help humankind through a lot of this confusion. Besides, I always wanted a pyramid."
"No, no, no," the Dalai Lama scowls incredulously. "If we lose, we'll prob'ly hafta eat poi!"
"How would we settle this?" asks Hera.
"Well," I says. "I got two-to-one that says Vishnu will clean house if it's boxing."
"Look, we're not boxing over the fate of the Universe," says Apollo. "I say we go 'Rock, Paper, Scissors'."
"Then it's three-to-one on Vishnu."
"Oh sure," says the Dalai Lama. "We'll play 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' with the fastest entity in the universe. Why don't we just save a lot of time and energy and give it to the guy wearing the gayest boots?"
"Kiss my ass," says Apollo.
"I'll bet it tastes like poi," warns the Dalai Lama.
"You know maybe Humankind is ready," says Zeus, stroking his beard. "Perhaps we should finally reveal to them that the True way to Heaven and Eternal Happiness is ... "
"Look, all this endless jibber-jabber is getting us nowhere," I sigh. "I think I speak for all Humankind when I say that we humans don't give a crap about all that blissed-out hippie Eternal Salvation or whatever, and sitting around and debating this crap is how we got into this problem in the first place. I'm sticking to my guns with the boxing thing. Elimination matches, one survivor, winner-take-all. Aren't you curious yourselves who the first punk would be to get whacked?"
"Not particularly," says L. Ron Hubbard.
[LOBO]"Look," said Pope Benedict XXX during the press conference. "I can't throw a rock without hitting a 'Church of Agnostic Baptist Jesuit Diagonal Orthodoxies' or whatever anymore -you mushheads would worship iced tea and spotted rocks if Tom Cruise told you to."
"Tom Cruise hates tea!" called someone in the background.
"Facts are facts people," Benedict continues, rubbing his temple in exasperation. "The bulk of you are going to burn in the Lake of Fire forever. And with electric eel enemas if I have anything to say about it too ... from here on out, I'm goin' Old Testament on yer asses!"
-The news that God hates and has doomed them all to Hell forever came as quite a shock to theologians across the world.
"I was so wrong all this time," says the dejected Dalai Lama. "Have you any idea how long I've been waiting to get one of them cool hats?"
"Hello Dalai," laughs the Pope, pulling the corners of his eyes into a squinty expression. "-So solly! I wear this hat, and only I wears this hat. This hat is deeply-rooted in the tradition of being a symbol of the One True Faith. But you can buy a nice baseball cap at the Vatican gift shop. I'll even Bless it for you."
Suddenly, Gandhi leaps from the shadows. Grabbing Benedict's hat, he scampers off. "Haha," he chimes, hat teetering dangerously as he dances in gleeful victory.
"Gimmee my hat back, you asceticist hippie freak!" shrieks Benedict. "I'll poke your eye out with this here pointy stick!""Alright that's it Gandhi," says Jesus, rolling up his sleeves. "I'm kicking your ass all the way up and down the Eightfold Path."
"You do that, and I'll tell your Dad," says Buddha.
"Oh really Buddha?" says Jesus holding up both fists. "As far as Gods go, you're pretty lame. I mean you can't even grow hair. And how about putting down the cheese sticks and spending a little time on that Nordic Track we got you for Christmas?"
"Wow," says Buddha, eyeing Jesus' circling fists. "I didn't know you were a southpaw."
"I'm not a southpaw," Jesus replies. "What makes you think I'm a southpaw?"
"Your left hand has the bone structure of a southpaw."
"Really?" says Jesus, inspecting it closely. "I've never noticed a-"
Just then Buddha smacked His elbow, driving Jesus' Holy fist into His own Holy nose.
"Buddha, stop messing with Jesus," says Mohamed, storming into the room. Sizing up Buddha's girth, he whistles. "Dude, we all pitched in on that Nordic Track. Did you even open the box?""Hey hey hey," demands Benedict. "Shut the door behind you or you will let out the air conditioning!"
"Yeah Mohamed," says Gandhi. "Were you born in a barn?"
"Oh, very funny," says Jesus. "My Dad can kick the crap out of all you guys."
"Yeah?" says Buddha. "Where exactly did you read that?"
"It's in the Bible."
"I thought God wrote the Bible," says Ganesha.
"He did," says Jesus."Okay," says Shiva. "Lessee here. If my Dad wrote a book about kicking other Gods' butts, I wonder how it would turn out ... "
"Excuse me," I says, clearing my throat.
"What the hell is that?" asked Buddha.
"That is one of My Father's creations," says Jesus. "His name is LOBO."
"Ewe," says Pelé. "I'm going to have to rinse my eyes in lava to burn this image out."
"How revolting," says Buddha. "Just look at his skin. Blech. He must play a lot of Final Fantasy XII. Jesus, your Dad is taking credit for that?"
"Maybe," says Jesus reflectively. "I think maybe I better check my facts here."
"Well, look into it," says Pelé. "I'll bet if you ever had to get an eyewash from a volcano, you would be a lot more careful."
"You could 'poki' you eye out," says Benedict. "Eh? Eh?"
[Nobody got it]
"He isn't even wearing any fish skeletons!" remarks Poseidon."Be serious P," says Tupoc. "This punk-ass loser ain't got no bling."
"Am I late for the party?" asks Zeus. "I brought everybody gold!"
"You better keep that 'Shower of Gold' in your pants Mister," says Hera, "or Perseus is going to public school!"
[All laugh]
"It's all good baby," says Zeus. "It's all good."
"Okay," says Benedict. "Nobody got my 'poki' joke, but Hera is all the rage by joking lamely about her husband's infidelities?"
"Dude," whispers Shiva. "Don't go there. Zeus gets pissed. Turns you into crap."
"Well Hera is an enabler," Benedict reasons.
"Uh, yeah, okay," guffaws Shiva, rolling her eyes. "If 'enabler' is a euphemism for slut."
"Excuse me," I repeat, clearing my throat.
"Jesus," breathes Ghandi. "Are they just letting anyone in here now?"
"It appears so," says Jesus.
"What is it repulsive little mortal man?" demands Pelé."Hey sister," says the Dalai Lama. "I wouldn't talk so tough. You eat poi. Blech. Eating poi is like eating a big bowl of acne."
"This dialogue is getting a little complex," I interrupt. "I'm only a blogger. But since you're here together, can't you just slug it out to the death once and for all? It would be a lot simpler to write about, and I only got about six shots left on my disposable camera anyways. This is the reel from Cancun."
"Fight to the death?" asks Shiva. "Why would we do that? Without many of us to choose between, humans wouldn't have the ability to decide who to worship. And what good is an entire mortal lifetime not squandered over the amusing fear of cryptic laws, weird rituals of worship, moral ambiguity, perpetual doubt, and the ever-present potential consequence of Eternal Damnation?"
"Well that's kinda what I'm getting at," I says. "Can't you all just duke it out right now and settle this big mystery? A single God would really take the pressure off, and that's what we're looking for really: a dynamic God with a refreshing 'can-do' attitude. That way we can just stop with all these headaches and just build Him or Her pyramids or whatever under a crushing, repressive theocratic reign for the rest of Eternity in happiness."
"I can see his point," says Gandhi. "One God and one simple set of rules would really help humankind through a lot of this confusion. Besides, I always wanted a pyramid."
"No, no, no," the Dalai Lama scowls incredulously. "If we lose, we'll prob'ly hafta eat poi!"
"How would we settle this?" asks Hera.
"Well," I says. "I got two-to-one that says Vishnu will clean house if it's boxing."
"Look, we're not boxing over the fate of the Universe," says Apollo. "I say we go 'Rock, Paper, Scissors'.""Then it's three-to-one on Vishnu."
"Oh sure," says the Dalai Lama. "We'll play 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' with the fastest entity in the universe. Why don't we just save a lot of time and energy and give it to the guy wearing the gayest boots?"
"Kiss my ass," says Apollo.
"I'll bet it tastes like poi," warns the Dalai Lama.
"You know maybe Humankind is ready," says Zeus, stroking his beard. "Perhaps we should finally reveal to them that the True way to Heaven and Eternal Happiness is ... "
"Look, all this endless jibber-jabber is getting us nowhere," I sigh. "I think I speak for all Humankind when I say that we humans don't give a crap about all that blissed-out hippie Eternal Salvation or whatever, and sitting around and debating this crap is how we got into this problem in the first place. I'm sticking to my guns with the boxing thing. Elimination matches, one survivor, winner-take-all. Aren't you curious yourselves who the first punk would be to get whacked?"
"Not particularly," says L. Ron Hubbard.
Comments
May you go in the peace of the Lord.