Sunday, May 18, 2008

My son is Jesus Christ.

Years ago I tried to be a loan officer. So I took a job as an assistant to this man that owned a mortgage company. Part of my job was to take these long pointless trips, seven to eight hour trips, in a car, alone, just my boss and me. And he was a troll, an absolute troll. Blue lips and everything. He use to enjoy telling me stories. Stories that always involved him being cast in either A) the role of the hero or B) The stud (Ew).

He had a son, a pudgy teenage boy who played in a band called Gods of Death. Their “band” consisted of two acrobats, a bassist, and a lead singer. They brought lots of props with them on stage, really nice props like clubs with spikes, over sized dog collars, chains, and a big banner with their name written in what looked like…blood? But the worst part was the “singing.” It was all


And those were the lyrics to every one of their songs. And what gets me is that real live human beings came to listen to them scream like this. I am not joking.

And excuse me but where was my microphone and amp when I was throwing up violently into the toilet those first months of pregnancy? Because had I recorded any of those bitchin jam session’s I would have been a legend among this crowd. A LEGEND I tell you.

So one day on the way back from yet another mind numbing “road trip” with the boss he asks “Say there, have you ever read Nostradamus?”

“No” I said and I’m already starting to get irritated because this is going on hour, oh I don’t know, one hundred and fifty-seven with this man. During which time I have been served an ENDLESS supply of old war stories, and stories about his sexy times with countless Asian women while he was overseas and “you know those Vietnamese women really know how to serve a man” sort of thing. And I was quickly reaching the point where I was contemplating throwing myself out of the car just so I didn’t have to listen to another word of his drivel.

“Well, do you read the bible?”


“Well, I do, and I think it’s interesting that all the predictions for the end of days are coming true.”

“Is that right.”

“Let me ask you something. Who do you think our savior will be? Go ahead, guess, who do you think it will be?”

“Uh. I don’t know. Oprah?”

“Well, do you want to know who I think it is?”

Sure! I mean you’re paying me a whopping seven dollars an hour to listen to this right? That’s only fair. Go ahead. Please, rape my ears some more. Don’t let the fact that they're bleeding be any indicator that you should shut-up. No sir. You keep right on and do your thing.

“Well, I think it’s my son.”


“Yeah, I think it’s my son.”

“You mean the one that plays in that band?”

“Yeah, him.”


“Okay. So now that I told you, doesn’t that make sense?”

"If that’s the case, Oprah is going to be pissed.”

Okay good people of the earth, we are in serious trouble. If God listens to that kind of music…we’re screwed.


Becky said...

Ha ha!
Thanks for finding my blog and therefore letting me find yours. Love it!

Katrina said...

Some folks are just plain crazy! I think he needs to re-read a few chapters if he thinks his son is the second coming. Don't recall death metal from Sunday school back in the day, but I could be wrong. ;o)

Card Collector said...

I'm sticking with Oprah. Maybe Tom Cruise.

Susiewearsthepants said...

I think someone fell out of the crazy tree and hit every branch on the way down!