surprise), torn dirty jeans (a bit of a surprise), and a tie-dye T-shirt with a big pot leaf on the front (a pretty big surprise). His shirt is decorated with various pins: smiley faces, more pot leaves, The Grateful Dead. His wrists are decorated with hemp bracelets and around his neck are several long necklaces, colorful beads glinting in the sunshine of his room.
“Sorry the place is so trashed, guys,” he says once we’re all inside. Even the Bleeding Nun has come in, trailing silently behind the nearly-silent Jane 62. Jesus starts throwing stuff around the room, clearing off the furniture for us to sit. He tosses clothes, comic books, a dirty pair of sneakers, empty soda cans, pizza boxes. All of it goes straight into a pile on the floor at the foot of the bed, which he promptly sits on, facing the TV. He takes another toke and points at the television which is playing a video game. “Mario Kart, guys,” Jesus says smiling, speaking loudly to be heard over the Beach Boys. “Anyone wanna race?”
Lucifer rolls his eyes. “I told you, Jay. These people want to ask you some questions.”
But Jesus isn’t listening. He’s started a new game, racing Mario around the track, trying to catch up to Luigi. After a moment, he says, “Yeah, there’s some cold pizza over on the…the…” He trails off, concentrating. When his little cartoon car crashes, he laughs like a child and smokes more of his joint.
Lucy clears his throat and says, “They want to know if they’re ghosts or zombies, Jay.” He speaks to Jesus as though the guy is a complete idiot and I’m starting to see why. I think he’s toasted a few of his brains cells in the last 2,000 years or so.
“Just say no,” Ago murmurs.
“Jay?” Lucy says, louder. “Can you please stop doing that for a minute?”
“I’m listening,” Jay insists. “Kinda.”
“Well, which is it?” Lithia demands. “Ghosts? Zombies? Spirits? None of the above?”
Jesus looks around the floor for an ashtray to stub out his roach. Once that is accomplished, he looks up at the rest of us with those earnest brown eyes and says, “That’s a pretty existentialist question. I mean, who are any of us, right, man? Maybe you’re not even here. Maybe I’m not even here. See what I’m saying?”
Katina has moved to the window and looks out. “Sunflowers,” she says softly. “An endless field of sunflowers.”
None of us are interested enough to look out with her. Instead, I look down at Jesus and say, “That’s not really helping, Jay.”
“Or,” he continues, as though I didn’t speak. “Maybe you’re the whole world. The whole universe. Did you ever think of that?” He pinches his thumb and index finger together to signify something very small. “Maybe the entire solar system exists only in the pupil of your eye.”
I’m beginning to feel a headache coming on and have no idea how to respond to the son of God when he is spewing such nonsense.
“Are you sure you’re Jesus?” Lithia asks suspiciously.
Jesus laughs and resumes his game.
“This whole thing is starting to get on my nerves,” Ago says. “I think I liked Purgatory better.”
“Fuck that,” Katina replies, finally turning away from the window. “If I’m stuck here, I at least want to be stuck on one of the higher floors where we can eat something other than opera pie.”
Now convinced that our question won’t be answered after all, I’m inclined to agree with her. “We may as well see what we can see. Evidently, we have nothing but time anyway.”
“I’m in no rush to get where I’m going, if you know what I mean,” Lithia says in her cracked voice. “They can be renovating Hell till the cows come home for all I care.”
“The renovations are almost finished,” Lucy tells her with a smile. “I’m looking forward to it myself.”
“I’ve been hearing that for as
“Sorry the place is so trashed, guys,” he says once we’re all inside. Even the Bleeding Nun has come in, trailing silently behind the nearly-silent Jane 62. Jesus starts throwing stuff around the room, clearing off the furniture for us to sit. He tosses clothes, comic books, a dirty pair of sneakers, empty soda cans, pizza boxes. All of it goes straight into a pile on the floor at the foot of the bed, which he promptly sits on, facing the TV. He takes another toke and points at the television which is playing a video game. “Mario Kart, guys,” Jesus says smiling, speaking loudly to be heard over the Beach Boys. “Anyone wanna race?”
Lucifer rolls his eyes. “I told you, Jay. These people want to ask you some questions.”
But Jesus isn’t listening. He’s started a new game, racing Mario around the track, trying to catch up to Luigi. After a moment, he says, “Yeah, there’s some cold pizza over on the…the…” He trails off, concentrating. When his little cartoon car crashes, he laughs like a child and smokes more of his joint.
Lucy clears his throat and says, “They want to know if they’re ghosts or zombies, Jay.” He speaks to Jesus as though the guy is a complete idiot and I’m starting to see why. I think he’s toasted a few of his brains cells in the last 2,000 years or so.
“Just say no,” Ago murmurs.
“Jay?” Lucy says, louder. “Can you please stop doing that for a minute?”
“I’m listening,” Jay insists. “Kinda.”
“Well, which is it?” Lithia demands. “Ghosts? Zombies? Spirits? None of the above?”
Jesus looks around the floor for an ashtray to stub out his roach. Once that is accomplished, he looks up at the rest of us with those earnest brown eyes and says, “That’s a pretty existentialist question. I mean, who are any of us, right, man? Maybe you’re not even here. Maybe I’m not even here. See what I’m saying?”
Katina has moved to the window and looks out. “Sunflowers,” she says softly. “An endless field of sunflowers.”
None of us are interested enough to look out with her. Instead, I look down at Jesus and say, “That’s not really helping, Jay.”
“Or,” he continues, as though I didn’t speak. “Maybe you’re the whole world. The whole universe. Did you ever think of that?” He pinches his thumb and index finger together to signify something very small. “Maybe the entire solar system exists only in the pupil of your eye.”
I’m beginning to feel a headache coming on and have no idea how to respond to the son of God when he is spewing such nonsense.
“Are you sure you’re Jesus?” Lithia asks suspiciously.
Jesus laughs and resumes his game.
“This whole thing is starting to get on my nerves,” Ago says. “I think I liked Purgatory better.”
“Fuck that,” Katina replies, finally turning away from the window. “If I’m stuck here, I at least want to be stuck on one of the higher floors where we can eat something other than opera pie.”
Now convinced that our question won’t be answered after all, I’m inclined to agree with her. “We may as well see what we can see. Evidently, we have nothing but time anyway.”
“I’m in no rush to get where I’m going, if you know what I mean,” Lithia says in her cracked voice. “They can be renovating Hell till the cows come home for all I care.”
“The renovations are almost finished,” Lucy tells her with a smile. “I’m looking forward to it myself.”
“I’ve been hearing that for as
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