Thursday, May 04, 2006

That's Mr. Christ to You

There's nothing like an attack of bursitis in the hip to make a fella feel like pinching strange gals and dancing the night away to a frantic disco beat. That Foxy Grandpa cane-shuffle, that bent-over Quasimodo posture with hand supporting the small of the back, that ascending the stairs leading only with the uninjured leg -- it all leads to a suffusion of youthful vigor and a devil-may-care attitude that snaps its fingers at mortality and whistles Dixie in the face of decrepitude.

I betook myself to Medical Science this afternoon, who shot the offending joint full of anapraxyzone, or perhaps it was calmodisodone, or -- memory begins to fail too these days -- hamsammicholol, bungalonozyl, or maybe rum and Coke.

Med. Sci. also handed me a prescription for bananaloil, which I agonizingly shuffled over to the pharmacy to fill. Having been handed the package containing the pills, plus a database printout about what to do if my vomit looked like coffee grounds (don't put it in the Melitta, basically, and prepare for a painful death in an ambulance) I did a little more grocery shopping.

It wasn't until I was in the main checkout line that I glanced at the receipt stapled to my pharmacy package. What I saw immediately filled me with a feeling of warmth, joy and Infinite Love, and I felt my bursitic hip miraculously heal itself in an instant. I fell to my knees and began to speak in tongues (Plattdeutsch, they later informed me, but with a terrible, Chico-Marx-level Italian accent). Snakes crawled in the grocery door demanding to be handled. Angelic choirs sang.

Here, then, is the Holy Miracle that instantly cured my afflicted hip and suffused my soul with hope and love for my fellow man. This photograph is guaranteed unretouched in any way whatsoever. I am happy to send a notarized photocopy to any scoffer or debunker that requests one:



Now, folks, this isn't some amorphous Virgin Mary in a toasted cheese sandwich. This isn't Jesus in an oil-stain on some basement floor. This is as black and white as it gets.

Hi, my name is Christ.

There's something just so marvelously direct about the language. So matter-of-fact. So guileless. It's just how I'd imagine the Son o' God would talk were he to return today, in a Men's Warehouse suit with an American-flag lapel pin, a Salesman of Everlasting Life:

Hi, my name is Christ. Jesus Christ, but my pals call me Jimmy. So how the hell you doin'? Damned glad to meetcha. Boy, it's sure a scorcher today, ain't it? Fry an egg on the sidewalk, ha-ha! How're the wife-n-kids? Doing OK? Great, great.... So lemme ask ya -- how's your insurance situation? You covered against plague, fire, flood, famine? 'Cos I gotta tell ya, I read in Reader's Digest, so you gotta know it's true. It's coming. You betcher ass, pardon my French...

So I'm pondering my next move. Plainly an eBay auction is in the offing, and I'm dusting the old homestead in preparation for the Vatican contingent who will no doubt be descending on the joint in the next day or two, when word of this gets out. I expect The Amazing Randi will weigh in calling me a mountebank, but dammit: I know what I read.

Hi, my name is Christ.

And don't you forget it.

13 comments:

Mike said...

Now some pharm tech at Giant is gonna be dragged before the regional manager and told to walk across my swimming pool. That was always one of my fave numbers in the show. Try to get a tape of it when they crucify him.

There is no god but yfblgnb, and Neddie is his prophet.

fgfdsg said...

Thrillho

Kevin Wolf said...

I have never been touched by God in this way.

I realize now my life is empty.

Candlefiregirl said...

Who'd a thunk it. Christ coming back as a pharmacist. Don't tell the pharma companies. Imagine the "direct to consumer" TV ads we'd have to endure then! Here's a taste...

FADE UP TO MEDIUM SHOT OF JESUS CHRIST STEPPING OFF THE LAKE WHERE HE WAS WALKING ON WATER. A GROUP OF MEN (DISCIPLES) MOVE TOWARD HIM SURROUNDING HIM, OBVIOUSLY AMAZED AND FULL OF ADMIRATION. ZOOM INTO CLOSE UP OF CHRIST'S SHOULDERS AND FACE.

CHRIST: Hi... my name is Christ and I'd like to talk to you about erectile dysfunction. Not because I have this problem...(LAUGHS) heck I'm still a virgin... but to remind you that God helps those that help themselves. (HOLDS UP BOTTLE OF VIAGRA.)

ZOOM INTO BOTTLE OF VIAGRA IN CHRIST'S HAND.

CHRIST (OC): Just take one of these little pills before an intimate moment, and you too will feel like you are walking on water. And your partner will too!

ZOOM OUT TO SCENE OF CHRIST HANDING OUT LITTLE PILLS TO ALL THE MEN AROUND HIM.

DISCIPLE 1: Christ... you really are my savior!

DISICPLE 1'S WIFE: Thank God for Viagra!

roxtar said...

Well, I was going to write something incredibly pithy, and funny as all get out.....but I refuse to follow THAT act. Nice work, candlefiregirl.

Candlefiregirl said...

I forgot to add at the end of that scene...

PAN TO SCENE OF THREE OR FOUR LITTLE CHILDREN LAUGHING AND PLAYING ON THE BEACH NEARBY, WITH CHRIST AND DISCIPLES OFF TO SIDE IN BACKGROUND.

ANNOUNCER: (SPEAKING RAPIDLY) Side effects may include: headache, flushing, dyspepsia, dizziness, nasal congestion, various digestive disorders, blah, blah, blah...

FADE TO BLACK

Will Divide said...

My Walgreens has a Mercury at the register. Not Christ, but a handy god nevertheless.

Now, how does Goss know Foggo?

Blue Wren said...

Oh gawdddd...
Neddie, I gotta tell you -- I came THIS close to blowing a mouthful of hot Campbell's Soup at Hand Blended Vegetable Medly through my nose AND out my mouth, all over my laptop when I saw the words, "Hi, my name is Christ" on your pharmacy receipt. I had to throw myself backwards while simultaneously spinning the chair away, clasp both my hands over my mouth and ... gulp ... before I could start screaming with laughter.
You JUST made my day!

XTCfan said...

HI MY NAME IS CHRIST

What a perfect opening line for a song. I hereby throw down the gauntlet, Sir Ned.

helmut said...

How about "Hi, I'm bigger than Christ"?

Brought to you by edupel, for getting rid of those unsightly hairs brought on by education.

Anonymous said...

There’s gonna be one hell of a fight when Christ and Jesus inevitably have a run in.

See:
http://peopleofthepavement.blogspot.com/2005/12/story-of-christmas.html


Buck Batard

Annapolitan said...

From the Washington Post, months from now:

"Executives from Giant Corporation have no explanation for the recent upsurge in customers at their Herndon, Virginia pharmacy. In the past month, they have gone from filling about 1500 prescriptions a week to filling almost 36,000…”

(And, unbeknownst to the afflicted who are surging toward the Giant pharmacy counter in Herndon, a new pharmacy tech begins his first day at the Edgewater, Maryland Safeway Pharmacy. The supervisor asks Jesus Hernandez to type his first name into the terminal at the beginning of his training shift.)

The Rapture has begun.

Anonymous said...

Coincidentally (or is it?), there's someone named Michele Christ at the hospital where I work. Contemplating the names that she might give her theoretical children (Ralph Christ, Heather Christ, Buzz Christ, &c.) is as much fun as running across doctors whose last names, combined with the title Dr., make the most excellent superhero names: Doctor Justice, Doctor Smart, Doctor Bavarian, and on and on.