I Think Jesus Is a Cutie
I think Jesus is a cutie.
I mean I think he would be a cutie. If he were here walkin the earth
today he'd be a cutie. You see all those pictures of him with those
sharp things on his head and blood runnin through his greasy hair and
I don't buy it. They make him look so dirty and dark and foreign. They
got his eyes all weird. Jesus should look more American or something.
Jesus would have straight
dirty blonde hair parted right down the middle kinda like Frank who
has the locker next to mine. Cept Jesus would be much cuter and he wouldn't
have none of those pictures from Hustler pasted up in his locker. He'd
have high cheekbones like my ex Brad except without that stupid mole
on his left cheek. He'd be kinda muscular but not too buff like Meg's
boyfriend Jimmy. That's gross. He'd have just enough you know? Five
ten. Five ten is perfect.
Jesus wouldn't have no suits
or nothin fancy like that but he'd be dressed good. Classy. Jesus would
have good polished black dress shoes. He wouldn't walk around in no
ratty old sneakers. This one time we went to my cousin's wedding and
I had practically beg Brad to put on some good shoes. Boy never put
em on in his life and then he was whinin like a little baby his toes
hurt. Try puttin on some slingbacks is what I said.
Jesus would drive one of
those old classy convertibles. Like the ones from the 50s. Big fins
on it. A cool sea green color. He'd roll into the school parkin lot
and pull up right by that big jerk Greg. Jesus wouldn't say nothin to
Greg or get mad at him cuz of what he said about me in lunch that one
time. Jesus would just park his car right in front of Greg's and Greg
would just know. He'd just know he wasn't no good seein his ugly no
shavin face in Jesus' perfectly polished grill.
Jesus and me would drive
around town in his convertible but we wouldn't stop at the dairy queen
like everyone else does around here. We would just drive around with
the wind from drivin blowin through Jesus' hair real smooth but it would
always stay in place. Jesus would turn the radio to a classic rock station
for a little bit and then he'd turn it to one of those stations at the
end of the dial like with jazz or violin music or somethin cuz Jesus
would listen to stuff that was good for you too. When I would grab Jesus'
arm while he was drivin he wouldn't get all weird and yank it away like
Brad did. He could work the stick and the clutch and still have me hold
on to him.
When the sun went down Jesus
would drive up to the high spot on 33 where you can see the whole town.
There'd be a whole buncha other cars sittin there with couples makin
out all nasty but Jesus wouldn't be like that. We'd sit there for a
long time just lookin at the lights in town flicker. Jesus would put
his arm around me but not in a creepy way like Dave from history class
reachin over my shoulder and everything. Jesus would just keep his arm
around me and tell me what it was like to talk to famous dead people
like Shakespeare and Chris Farley.
I'd tell Jesus that he could
tell me anything and I'd mean it too. I mean I bet there's lotsa crazy
stuff you have to know and do when you're Jesus. He'd pour his heart
and soul out and I would look at his eyes and I could tell he wanted
to cry and I would say it's okay if you cry Jesus. But he wouldn't cuz
he's tough and he could take it. Then Jesus would lay his head in my
lap like a little kid and say I'm so lucky you're with me. And I'd run
my fingers through his hair and say Oh Jesus. Oh Jesus.
Matthew Callan's writing appears regularly at freezerbox.com,
a cultural/political web site of dire import. He also writes and performs
commentary for NPR2's "The Way In." His home base is scratchbomb.com,
a web site he writes, designs, and interviews folks for.