And I shall lord over you, too, little bored puffer fish with hooded eyes. And I shall promise that you never end up next to a pile of loaves of bread, nor will that scumbag Peter ever snag you on his hook for I, too, know what it’s like to have a goddamned spike shoved through your body parts. And I will name you Nemo, and I will set you free so that you may never be found. Amen.

[Spring, after the first full moon, any year, any time.] Ahhh….thank god THAT’S over. Easter wipes me out, man…totally sucks that I have to go through all that drama again and again and again…I mean, really…when will it all stop? Hey, you people like to get all morose and pretend you’re martyrs like me by giving up chocolate or booze for Lent. Yeah, like THAT really is on par with what my ass went through. Posers. And then we have to go through the bullshit with the whole Last Supper shtick, and the holy grail garbage and “is that Mary Magdelene or John sitting next to me?” and all that other bologna. Look, we got together in the park, had a few laughs, ate some bread, told some fart jokes, got trashed on wine and Sambuca (bet you guys didn’t know that, eh?) and then – BOOM! – before I know it my drunk ass is arrested by some Roman dumbasses in really bad uniforms (note to Self: kick the shit out of Judas AGAIN for turning my ass in) and then being paraded all around town and people are throwing things at me…do you really think I want to relive that shit year after year? Read the rest of this entry »

Uh…clerk? Excuse me, clerk? Yeah,ok…this broad just took the last bottle of strawberry Kefir and I really, really need it for this garden gig I have to be at and I’m very, very late. Look, I’ve got 12 guys waiting for me to bring a couple of loaves of bread and the Kefir. They wanted wine but that gives me a touch of indigestion when I mix it with carbs so I said, “What the hell? I’ll bring some probiotics to keep us all on track”…so, can you please either go into the stock room and get me more Kefir or tell this chick that she can’t have that bottle…please? I’m on the clock here, man. No, the Silk will not do. Soy makes me constipated. I want the Kefir. Now. Listen, I know people in higher places than your ass will ever know, and – believe you/me, clerk - they’re not afraid to use lightning bolts in ways that would make your hair turn white. So…can we get a move-on here, please? Thanks. I need to text the guys to tell them not to start without me. Uh, ma’am? Can I borrow your Blackberry for a sec?

Ahhhh…summer! Doesn’t get much better than this! Bright sun, cold brew, hot babes in bikinis…don’t forget the SPF! I remember when me and The Twelve used to summer at the Sea of Galilee. Good times, man…sometimes Bart used to sneak in some weiners to roast on the hibachi. Yeah, yeah…I know, cloven hoofs, not good, not allowed…I know, but – hey – we were kids! Wanted to rebel a bit so I had no problem bringing the mustard, know what I mean? Man, those were the days — doing shots, building the bonfire and then I’d freak them all out by taking a stroll ON the water. Hilarious! Judas never bought it but – then again – he was such a lazy buzzkill. Party pooper all the time. So serious…lighten up, dude! It’s SUMMER! Someone crank some Bad Company!