Date: Wed, 22 Jan 2003 15:36:43 -0800 From: Tim Stillman Subject: Naked Came the Savior "Naked Came the Savior" (a passion play) by Timothy Stillman (for Old Stick Up the Butt) (with apologies to "Penelope Ash" and the gang at Newsday for sullying the title of their literary hoax, "Naked Came the Stranger") Humpy Praline thought this Jesus was a real strung out daddy-o. Humpy and Jesus humped all the time. Jesus in Humpy's eyes was a lean raw boned delicate dude who liked to have his ass fucked the very best in the very worst way. And while Humpy was fucking that royal ass, giving it all sorts of pain and pleasure, Jesus would recite his parables. Jesus, German accented with a little Polish thrown in for good measure, would go on and on about the man who built his house on the sand and the man who built his house--"Oh my goodness" and "Fuck me baby ten to the cross"--peppering his words, his hung voice, his panting, gasping, rasping, voice, and Humpy would get deep in. For Jesus, all rawboned and big balled and penis up the Johnstown River of sex was the hottest hot rod in the town. At least that was how the Humpster saw him. All the high school boys, like Humpy, thought so, and they banged him because he loved to be banged, and he loved those frickin' parables, so Humpy and Mike the Dick and Terry the Titty Twister and Perry the Primadonna just put cotton in their ears and banged away into that rather large ass hole, paying not one whit of attention to what the Savior said, cause he said it all with their spunk up him and that was all they knew and all they needed to know as his butt muscles massaged and gripped their wangers like you can't imagine, like his ass was gonna eat em all up. To Mike the Dick, Jesus had green eyes. To Terry the Triple Nipple, Jesus had blue eyes. To Perry the Primadonna, Jesus had black eyes. To each of them he had a different body type. To each of them, he had a different skin color. To each of them, he had different accents. To each of them he was a totally different person. None of them knew the others saw him as hot and muscular or wan and weak or dark and wiry or small dicked or long pronged. Not anyone needed to understand the parables which truth to tell put them to fuckin' sleep when they had fucked him and then lay beside him and smoked their Kools and dissed this boy and that boy and condemned eyes for eyes and teeth for teeth. And all the while Jesus his balls long and sandy his balls tight and brown colored his balls pale and hairy his balls small and hairless said thou shalt not suffer a witch to live thou shalt not kill thou shalt not commit adultery thou shalt not allow man to lie with man and all that, they just blissed out and were getting ready to lube him up so he could fuck them. They each in turn, never comparing notes, so the gimmick of the thing would never be caught onto by them, thought Jesus was just about wasted as he could be on grass and pills and the valleys of same that he fell into with them in their hot unmarried sheet stained fuck bed that was forever turning their thoughts as though on a raised dais with themselves on the cross of Golgotha, their arms and legs tied to the cross, their butts smirking with flatulence, their heads with the crown thing of thorns on them, and Jesus standing there naked looking up at them, and they were in their own individual fantasies butt naked as well, and they thought that the cross would be a good place to have sex. Would be a good place for bondage and discipline. All that blood beading and all those thorns and all that good night nurse being bound up there while Jesus ascended the cross and squatted over them and let them lick his ass hole while he pranged their prongs and the crowds and the Roman Legions cheered. And all the boys thought, when it came to Jesus, he sure was one gigantic asshole. And no one could argue with that. Jesus made promises to them when they were sexually engaged with him. Jesus said he would show up at this or that place and never leave them and he was always with them even to the ends of something, they were too busy fucking the stew out of his innards to pay much attention, but they all knew the promises were bullshit. His plane was headed one direction. Their plane was headed the other way. He didn't give a damn about them or remember them not even their names. He was omniscient that way. He would never show up when he said he would. He would gaze his green black blue eyes at them and he would tell them they were created specifically by him and he would bless them if they loved him and loved no other. He was their keys to the kingdom and all of that. But it was all bull but so what? He was their stud muffin. You forgive your stud muffin little things like that to get to the bigger things. Guy was gone fur sure. Too much weed. Too much Thunderbird. Too much sexual shenanigans goin' on in his little tract house out there in Levittown like all the tract houses around him, wood and stucco, and little rooms with wood blinds that let slats of the sunshine in those tiny rooms that you could walk across in about two steps. Smelly house from all the sexual shenanigans, and the uncleanness of it all, the rank hell fire sin of it all, the dirty dishes piled in the sink, the floors never vacuumed, dust bunnies the size of Cleveland, spilled liquids of all sorts, the clunky Thrift Store ratty heavy furniture gathering dust hither and yon, the streaked windows, the moldy smell of too many newspapers and oldness and cruddiness and a coffee pot that never worked and a pockmarked Imana fridge that was always empty ceptin for Thunderbird bottles. In short the house was a shambles. But Jesus knew what he liked, and what he liked was being all things to all boys. Sometimes men came to his house. Men who were men of God. They wanted to sell him Bibles or get him to come to Sunday School and church some day because we'd all be glad to have ya being new to the town and all real friendly like we are. And some got that far in their spiel and pretended not to notice and others became somewhat interested and Jesus turned them away post haste, while others saw him standing in the door, starkers he was to all his callers, with his little big thick thin hairless hairy with red brown black pubes and some of those men of god (no room at the inn, how true how true) beat their feet in their two tones and got the living hell out of there, away from the muscular weak short small tall thin man or woman because Jesus was easy in all these regards. Jesus Jell-O. And Jesus knew they would not accept him at church because he was always nekkid, and Jesus just waited for the high school boys to get out of school and drop by and stand in line at the door while he took them one at a time. Jesus knew how to entertain. He knew that he could make all the promises he wanted and keep none of them and make the boys think they were at fault for his making the promises in the first place because they just didn't understand. He read Norman Vincent Peale and Dear Abby. He knew his shit. And he had them there, he had them there; the price of admission was having to listen to his parable spouting. This dude was from left field in that stuff. And parables are whatever you want them to mean. Anything from don't ever eat succotash to never pee on the bark of a tree. Whatever, dude. Not that anyone minded after a time. It was kinda fun thinking that he was permanently chained to this house, fingering his tits, playing with his balls, waiting for them and only them. They didn't mind waiting in line, and while doing so, they never talked about him, never exchanged sexual adventurers trying to one up the other guy so to speak. He was their private turf. He was--sacred. They just flapped their lips about the stuff boys flap their lips about as they stood on the little cement porch, and down the steps, and down the driveway, biding their time Job like, so they could be his bridesmaid for about fifteen minutes or so though they didn't think of it in those terms. Jesus of course did. He knew the fine art of self-justification as well. So okay, he wouldn't go driving with them into the country side to make love in the bosky dell and he wouldn't go out with them to a bar and drink himself senseless with them and he wouldn't drive them over to the next town where there was a porno kinda drive in, and this bugged them for a time but then they thought what the hey we got booze and pot here in his house and he is the best porn goin' can you dig it man? and what are we gripin' about and his keys to the kingdom are mine as soon as Humpy and Stacy and Lacey and Reg and Dunderhead and Mike and Perry and Joel and Jimmy and Randy get through with him. My god whooee that savior is a sexual dynamo. Just get him started on that David and Jonathan thing and his dick stands up and says blessed be and there's no stoppin' him then by god or whatever. Course Jesus was a little crude sometimes. The next house over, the guy there owned some pigs, and Jesus once cursed them and put the souls of Blankey Blue Eyes and Tornado Speed Pete in those pigs and they cornholed each other to death, this was at the behest of Perry Pompadour and Terry Big Balls cause they told Jesus that those two turds who would drink turpentine and smoke any weed that grew out of the ground, just pluck it right up, and stick it in their mouths and light it and puff away, that these two gooneys who were Preacher kids were razzin' them about what they did over at Jesus' many mansioned house, and were making gonna tell noises, so Jesus took care of them. The boys bodies at the exact moment their souls were slipped into the pigs who then slipped into each other's a--holes and had a mighty fine time there in the mud let me tell you what, at that exact moment, the boys in question felt their bodies slip down like a sheet over furniture that wasn't there anymore; the bodies flopping to the floor like a drop cloth from a weary house cleanin' mother's hand on a sunny hot summery day when she decided fuck it let the house be a wreck I'm going to be a two gun Tessie from Tulsa, and that scared anybody who was goin' to rat on the J Man out of three decades of life and they would never by god rat on him now. "Jesus, Jesus, do you think this time you could be David and I could be Jonathan and we love each other oodles and oodles and there is only the dicks we have between us and how we rub a dub dub them." And Jesus would get that kind of leer on his face and kind of snarl on his lips that actually looked like the kind of expression that the Frankenstein monster had in some of the movies when he was about to dismember some village people from stem to stern though of course they couldn't show that part in the movies. But you just knew it already. And Jesus would kind of growl like the monster did too. And he was a ball of fire, he was a Jacob's ladder of sexuality and they oft wondered what it would be like gang banging him but Jesus said he would always be there in paradise and if paradise was too damned crowded, then he might forget their names, (how could he? he never remembered them anyway) and because some of what he said got through to them even though they tried not to let it get through, did all in their power not to let it get through, it did anyway, and they thought holy moley this dick wipe might really be the savior so I better do like he says, and he says you can do me now and I do him now and it's fun and his dick tastes like all the olives and all the mounts and all the fleecy while clouds on an Israeli day, O Prince of Piece. He had a pretty good cracky too and his butt was like a girls like a hot hairy heavy dude's like a little boys mounded and flat and girthed and red and pale and brown and thick meated and close to the bone and he always liked to recount the tale of the three beggars who thought they were blind mice and they never knew where Alice went because she was off on the Carpathian mountains looking for Dracula who had become a count because he had been wakened by the good witch Glenda when he had been asleep in the castle turret combing his long golden locks. Jesus was wasted more and more when the boys dropped by to play in his band. Jesus got more and more crazy and sometimes he changed in front of them when they were fucking him from the front and his legs against their chests and his ankles on their shoulders. He would change body type and hair color and hair length and sometimes he had a beard and sometimes not and sometimes he had a goatee and sometimes not and sometimes he recited beat poetry and said things like "call me Jack Carwhacky" while he was being banged to a merger and he would cry out sometimes "Father Father why hast thou forsaken me?" and sometimes his hair would be two tone and three tone and sometimes his very facial structure would change and he would become more womanly or masculine with high cheekbones and thin lips or rich full red berry pouting ones and no cheekbones at all to speak of. And they thought they were cracking up and they sure weren't going to tell anyone they thought they were cracking up because then word would get around and then they would be put away somewhere where they would giggle in a padded cell and catch flies and eat them and that was not something any sane person would look forward to so they decided to keep their cracking up to themselves. And just smoke more weed and drink more Thunderbird and use the bottle on Jesus and he could use the bottle on them. And they would sometimes at his behest imitate old Cecil B. Demille Biblical epics, and lie on the bed and eat grapes and drink wine and laugh a lot and drink with their arms circled round each other and feed each other grapes and never touch each other sexual but maybe giving each other a frog now and then on their arms. They thought that part was pretty dull but Jesus had a hankering for old C.B. movies and they went along with it though they thought it was boringass in the extreme. But finally Jesus would say wanna jack off? and they would say JC/JO AOK. And would. Each boy, who thought himself monstrously clever, called Jesus Christ Jack off Christ and Jesus let them think they were each so fuckin' original, let them each think they were the greatest biggest hairy jokester of all time, because Jesus knew they loved him, because Jesus knew they would lay down their lives for him, because Jesus knew that even if he never had sex with them ever again, even if he never allowed them to do anything to him and refused to do anything to them, if he required them to come to his little tract house on Palmer Street and sit there in a campfire girl circle and sing praises to him up the wazoo which they would never be allowed to see or touch again, if he told them there was no Paradise and they were going to fry whatever they did-- --Jesus knew they would still love him because he was so let's face it so goddam lovable. Jesus was a bit of a jerk. He honest to god didn't know they wouldn't give him the time of day if he didn't come through for them. He honest to god didn't know he had to be Santa Jesus for them to give two dicks about him. He thought he was the whole ball of wax. The big enchilada. The rooty tooty of the western world and all points east south and north as well. Well they wouldn't have given two dicks about him because he wasn't that much, he was just a parable spouting lying promises making kind of guy who had such a fucking low opinion of himself he always had to have them say they loved him over and over and over while they were fucking or he was sucking them off and they had to speak in thees and thous and all that bible shit, cause the guy was doing them all a favor by getting down there with the masses and letting the body fluids fly. Lenny Bruce said it best, "Without polio, Salk was a putz." Without sex and keys of the kingdom and putting up with his shit so they could get to the main course and maybe just maybe eternity up ahead with Jesus fucking them forever more and they him so be the word of the lord all praise his holy name, Jesus was a putz. Of course sometimes Jesus was in the middle of a parable after an especially good blow job and hand job by his leathery big pale small stubby fingers brown delicately long fingers and they would be lying on the bed and Jesus trying to distance himself from the sexy stuff when the next boy in line would start banging on the somewhat warped wood front door, and shout out, "Hey savior, I'm in need of some salvation." And the parable would be cut in half and Jesus would be miffed and call down lightning and thunder boomed and stuff, but what the hey, he would never hurt his boys, Jesus' kids, they were the King's kids after all all righty all right. And he would sit up on his ass and tell his boy of the fifteen minutes of fame that he would continue the story next time, and the boy dressing sleepily and spent sexy boy would say yeah right whatever, give Jesus' dick a final tug and be off. Which Jesus re-interpreted in his booze and weed hazy mind as "hot damn I'm counting the seconds till that parable is complete, I'll lose sleep wondering about how it all turns out." Get a grip Jesus. And then the next boy would enter and strip. "Hi sweet Lord." "Hi kumquat," Jesus would say breathily in his German Yiddish Goy Spanish Polish Serbian Arabic accent, depending on who the boy was. Of course the neighbors sometimes wondered why all these boys were lined up at Jesus's abode, what the hell was going on in there, but this was the fifties and the tight white collar was strangling pretty much everybody so nobody cottoned onto what was really going on, you could have hit them with a brick that explained it all and they still wouldn't have cottoned to it, what can you expect of people who say things like "cottoned to it,"? they'd just about have to be idiots, wouldn't they? They would just notice the huge lump on their square heads where the brick hit them, and say something like Land O' Goshen, that sure is a hard brick and waddn't too neighborly for him to throw it at me neither. But if anyone asked, he was a barber and he worked out of his home. Continuing the lie, he had come here to Spencerville from Seville, Ohio, where the bunny rabbit delivers Christmas presents in place of Santa because Santa was not allowed in Ohio anymore, something to do with a boy named Timmy and a dog named Rags all involved on the police blotter in some sort of morals charge. And of course he loved to tell the boys that he was the barber of Seville. Let's be kind and just say the boys' blank eyes would have given those of Little Orphan Annie's a run for their money. The way the boys perceived him, his physical appearance, his accent, all of that, was purely arbitrary, a holy conceit. He just did this because he was Jesus and he could and they couldn't. To the boy who thought he was Polish, (he had to tell them the nationality of his accent; they neither knew nor cared a hill of beans one way or the other) he said he was the barber pole of Seville. The boy was sucking away on the holy member and stopped, looked up at him with a blank stare. Jesus smiled beatifically, no one could smile more beatifically and that was a fact, and after a moment's hesitation, the boy shrugged his shoulders whatever, and got back to what he was up to. Jesus sometimes had a paper maiche cross standing at the foot of his bed, to cast the shadow of the cross in the orange bedroom lighting while he was fucked and sucked and did thee likewise cause he dug it and come some April he would be on a cross and he would die and be put in a tomb with its opening sealed by a big rock, and he would go down to hell and he would tell the good people in its anteroom that now he was come and he could take them up to heaven where they belonged. They didn't get to go to heaven till Jesus showed up. The anteroom of hell which was not hot but cool in a very un-cool, very un-hip way. It was sort of like a Las Vegas lounge with tables and big tall drinks and some keno machines one armed bandits and a lounge act, Jerry Vale, for instance though the card changed every hundred years or so, but it had gotten pretty boring for those who had been here for you should pardon the expression a helluva long time, and just about drove some out of their minds, sending them to the hot locked tight door to hell, (did the singers' voices get piped in there so the damned could suffer even more?) a big red asbestos thing, and they banging on it "let me in let me in by the hair of my chinny chin chin" but no go there, and they were mighty glad to see the savior pop up or pop down, and he would escort them to heaven, see they got in the gates okay, then pop back to the cave, kind of like Superman, going real fast so no one could see him. SuperSavior would then rise from the dead, fly into the sky, get everybody to see the whole event differently, put it down on animal skins and pee draw it in the dirt or whatever, contradict the hell out of each other, and it's up up and away. Now who the hell in their right mind would not believe every word of that? How could anyone believe anything else? And even go so far as to laugh their asses off at it all? That would be silly. We know that we know that we know. Not like those idiotic religions other people stupidly cling to. Who all go to hell anyway. Who could believe that crap they shove down everyone's throat? They'll be corrected by god. Get real, man. But who the hell cared? Nobody believed it would really happen. Nobody believed Jesus would go away from them. Nobody believed they would really die or that heaven or hell was real or any of that, it was just that Jesus put out and that was the scripture hook line and sinker. Hell, the boys thought they would be boys in high school forevermore for that matter. Thinking two minutes ahead was beyond them. If anyone had known that Perry the Perfidiousness's middle name was Judas (and what the hell kind of parents would give their son a name like Judas is beyond me) they still wouldn't have made the connection, because everybody was too busy singin' and swingin' and drinkin' and tokin' and marryin' and givin' in marriage and all that jazz. The rest of this story gets pretty bloody so I won't go there and will bring you closure now which should validate all the souls in Jesus's bedroom with its cardboardy chest of drawers, which all the boys called chester drawers because they were mongoloids, and its closed wooden blinds letting slashes of dust moted sunlight in, and its ratty little bed with its ratty little covers and sheets, god JC don't you ever wash this stuff? No, JC was too busy thinking up clever parables that made no sense. Without the sex they would have ducked round the corner if they had seen him coming--Jesus Hellzapoppin' Christ!, it's Jesus and he's got a parable I can see by the heft of his dick god damn he'll talk your penis off if he sees us, let's vamoose and amscray. So this is my love song, not clever or fine, but oh Jesus oh Jesus won't you be mine? Or at least throw some out the window sometime, cause I could sure use it. And to prove there is indeed a God who loves us all very much, believe it or fry, I have managed to make it through this whole stupid story without even mentioning Jesus not coming in 2000 years. Damn. Ok. There is no God. Have fun and go back and do what you were doing to begin with.