And now the conclusion of The Alternative Easter Story.
Easter Sunday
On the Sunday morning, many people awoke with bad hangovers, due to drinking way too much the night before ‘in memory’ of Jesus. Basically it was just an excuse to get absolutely shit-faced. Across the country, millions of children sat and stared into space, craving chocolate made into the shape of an egg, containing all sorts of sweet delights.
“Maybe we should market them for next year,” suggested one bright child, and started on a business plan that would help fleece parents and families in yet another marketing ploy. Coincidentally, they were the same people who had invented Valentine’s Day after seeing a couple shagging in the park on February 14th just a year earlier.
In another house in another part of the City, a bloke called Joseph was on his way through town to check on the house he was creating. At the moment, it looked like a big cave, so he needed to add a couple of steel doors and a few windows and that was it. When he got there, he discovered a crown of people around the stone construction.
“What’s going on?” He asked to the crowd, who looked at him like he’d just shit in his hands and smeared it across everyone’s faces.
“Jesus’ body has gone,” they replied
Joseph looked concerned. “Where did you put him?” He asked, although he had a pretty good idea what the answer was going to be. And if he was right, he was going to be very pissed off.
“He was placed in this tomb,” replied the crowd, pointing at the house Joseph was creating.
“TOMB? TOMB? THAT’S MY NEW FUCKING HOME, YOU BUNCH OF IGNORANT BASTARDS,” he shouted. “DID YOU NOT THINK OF ASKING WHO’S IT WAS BEFORE YOU PUT A FUCKING DEAD BODY IN THERE? YOU LOT ARE FUCKING CLEANING IT OUT BEFORE YOU LEAVE.”
The crowd looked stunned. “But Jesus is the messiah. And he is risen again.
But Joseph was having none of it. “Well he’s going to fucking rise if his body is made out of bread, isn’t it, you bunch halfwits. Get my fucking house cleaned.”
Moments later, the police arrived on the scene.
“Ah, I was just about to call you,” said Joseph. “These fuckers used my house without my permission to bury a body. Bang out of order. I want them all arrested.”
One officer came over to take to Joseph, while the other spoke to the crowd. “Alright, calm down, Joseph. We’re going to speak to them. Where’s the body?”
“Apparently, it’s not there anymore. They said it’s gone.”
The officers looked at each other. “Bob, is there a body in there?”
Officer Bob (no relation) went in and has a look. “Nah, just some dirty clothes.” The crowd were trying to tell Officer Bob that Jesus had risen from the dead. “Impossible, he was dead. We checked his pulse and everything.”
The second officer looked at him. “Yeah, but we wouldn’t have this problem if you’d just let me stick a sword in his side, would we? Just think, we could be in a café now, eating a fresh bacon sandwich but no, Mister ‘ooh you can’t put a sword in his side because of health and safety’ wouldn’t make sure he was dead properly.”
The two quarrelling officers took a description of Jesus, not that they needed it as they were pretty certain they’d be able to spot a naked corpse walking the streets, and details of his followers who were suspected of nicking the body for their own sexual gratification. As they got into the car, the crowd dispersed, leaving Joseph to tidy up his new home by himself.
But watching the scene transpire, Peter, the disciple who wouldn’t let Jesus shag him a few days ago, watched on. He quickly ran back to where the rest of his group were hiding.
“Right. The police have no idea we nicked his body. But what the fuck are we going to do with it?”
The disciples looked at each other. A couple of days earlier, Jesus had been bragging that he could avoid death, but when he realised that God was not going to stop him from being killed, he’d asked his disciples to steal his body from wherever they put him and make it look like he’d risen from the dead.
“I don’t know, he didn’t tell us that bit,” said Peter.
“I’m sorry,” said Thomas, who had doubted the plan would work from the start. “I’m not comfortable sleeping in here with a dead body. I can’t believe you brought it back here.”
“Well maybe if you’d helped us carry it, we’d have been able to take him somewhere proper. Have you any idea how heavy the fat bastard was? I’m surprised the nails held him up.”
Thomas didn’t want to argue. He needed some air away from the stench of Jesus. He looked like he’d shit himself as he was being nailed up. Thomas left the room and took a walk down the street. Everywhere he looked, there were posters of the people the police wanted to speak to regarding the missing body. One of them was Peter and he decided to return and warn him.
“Fuck me, you picked a hell of a time to leave,” said Matthew.
“What do you mean?” asked Thomas.
“Jesus visited us as a ghost. Brought us cake and everything to thank us for making him look better than David Blaine.”
“Fuck off, we nicked that stuff from the hotel buffet on Thursday,” replied Thomas and the disciples admitted it wasn’t true.
“But Jesus did come and visit,” they insisted. “Told us we had to spread the word and that he would send us a sign.”
“I don’t believe you,” said Thomas. “And never will until I see him.”
“He’s off again,” whispered Bartholomew. “Jesus, come and show him.”
The disciples looked around and the shimmering image of Jesus appeared. “Wow,” said Thomas, “You look like Obi Wan Kenobi.”
“Oh thanks,” said Jesus. “I die for your sins and get likened to a film character. Twat.”
“I still don’t believe it,” said Thomas.
“Okay,” said Jesus, holding out his hand. “Put your fingers in my hole and it will be enough proof.”
Thomas was dubious but did as he was asked. Just as he was about to touch Jesus’ hand, the lord turned and lifted his cloak, forcing Thomas to slide his finger up Jesus’ arse. The disciples laughed.
“I didn’t think he’d do it. Nice one JC.”
“Right,” said Jesus when the laughter subsided. “No more fucking around. I’m pissing off to Heaven and leaving you lot to it. I’ve a lot of wine to drink and women to shag so I need you to spread the word for me. I was supposed to go in about a month, but there’s a buy one get one free at the Cloud Nine brothel and I’m not passing that up.”
“But lord,” said Peter. “We need guidance.”
Jesus rolled his eyes towards the sky. “Okay, okay. Here’s your help.” And, just like magic, a flame appeared on the head of each disciple.
“What the fuck? How’s that going to help?”
“You’re never satisfied are you?” said an exasperated Jesus. “How many people do you see walking round with a flame on their head and not get burnt? They’re going to stop and listen to you with that on your head aren’t they?”
The disciples all agreed and headed out of the door to spread the word. “Wait,” shouted Jesus. “I need you all to see me ascend to Heaven first.”
“Do we have to?” Moaned Thomas.
“Oh come on, I’ve been practising this for months. You ready? Watch this.” And Jesus started to levitate of the ground.
“David Blaine’s done this before. He used a crane and ropes.” Moments later Jesus disappeared into the sky. “Hey, that was pretty good to go through stone walls like that.”
Then Jesus stuck his head through the ceiling again. “Impressive eh? Now get that word spread you motherfuckers. I want a decent following by Christmas. Anyone who has recruited less than a hundred thousand by the time they die is going to hell. So long, suckers.”
And with that, the disciples took to the streets to spread the word. However they all ended up in the same lunatic asylum for running around with their heads on fire.
And that concludes our story of Easter. If you enjoyed this, I will see you one day in the burning depths of hell and you can buy me a beer for keeping you entertained.
Happy Easter.
May the force be with you
Jedi Master Bob
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