It happened again. I was sitting in my study, minding my own business, working on some medical Q&A with some music on, when all of a sudden I notice the scent of fresh blood, and see a trail of drops. I sigh.
"Sup J-Dawg? You still bleeding from the extremeties? You really need to get that looked at. Here, lemme see what it says here..."
- Don't give me that, punk. What's that foul ass junk you puffin' at, B? Where's the kindbud?"
"You give me money, I'ma get us a nice bud right now, big shot. You bring your cash from on high?"
- Ne'er mind, yo. Gimme that hash.
"So wassup dawg? What do I owe this extreme, if um, messy pleasure to?"
- Benny the Dick.
- Man, don't gimme none of that "huh" nonsense. Mary said one of you living people was saying some real stupid shit again, and hangin' it all on me. She figured maybe you knew what was up.
"Mary Maggs, huh? Mm hmmm. Tell her hi for me, dawg"
- Shut up, yo. So who's this Benny the Dick guy?
"Dawg, I keep trying to tell you, you got 2 billion of these stupid motherfuckers, all runnin' around blaming their malfunctions major AND minor on yo sorry ass, and all you do is come down here ever-once in a while and smoke my hard earned cannabis, like talking to me is gonna solve anything. I, like the fox from the joke with the dog, already know the real you, It's them other mofos you need to straighten out. You gotta take care of yo own shit, dawg."
- No B, this is supposed to be somebody important, you know I ain't got the time to account for what every one of two billion think. This is supposed to be like some head idiot. She said he was something to me. My wicker?
"Dude, don't be askin' me questions about your wicker. Damn!"
- No, not wicker... ticker? Licker? You know I stopped following all that nonsense back after Nicae. It's like a title. He's like the flicker of me, or some shit. Help me out here, yo. This is living stuff.
So I brought him some fresh bandages, filled myself a fresh bowl and pondered the mystery. In a puff of magic, I had it.
"Yo, Dawg, you buggin. You mean Vicar, doncha"
- Yeah yeah, B, that's what Mary said! Vicar. What the fuck is a Vicar?
- Oh right, that was the scam... it's all like my fault, but since I ain't around they get to actually run the motherfuckin' show and sleep in the nice houses. That whole Boss Away, Mice Will Play scam. We had that back in the day. OF COURSE I AINT AROUND, YOU BUNCH OF CRETINS! I'M DEAD! BEEN DEAD FOR TWO THOUSAND MOTHERFUCKING YEARS. I'M JUST AN IDEA, AND YOU PEOPLE HAVE GOT THE WRONG ONE IN SO MANY WAYS, EVEN DANTE WOULDN'T FIND IT FUNNY!
"You bogart the glass a lot for a dead guy, yo. Gimme that. Y'all hang with Dante up there?"
- A little. Mary likes his accent. Dude buggin' out tho. Keeps running around in circles. Tried to tell him we ain't got compulsory circles on our side, but he don't believe he in heaven. It happens, you know.... So this Vicar of mine, that's this Benny Dick?
Chuckling, I clued him in: "That's the pope, man. Your boy. Benedict the 16th. What he do now?"
"Yeah. Remember when they had that white smoke you said was aggravating your allergies?"
- Yeah, that's some nasty ass shit, yo. They about to start that again?!!"
"Nah, nah...that's when Joey got the job."
- Joey who?
- I thought you said Benedick"
"Yeah, before he got the job wit da hat, he ran by Joey Ratz."
- Sounds like a made man, yo. Those some nasty bastards.
"Something like that. Used to run La Cosa Vaticana's version of Murder Inc. called the inquisition"
- Those twisted Gaderene pigs? You know Mary wouldn't touch me for two centuries over what those fucks did in my name? She kept saying 'I told you it should have been about me, but noooooo..." I tried to tell her no-one could see it coming, but...those were some harsh years, man.
"So that's how the little ice age happened, huh?
- Don't make me rise up on you, B.
"She's right, you know. You fucked up."
- I know. Shut up about it. So these the same dudes?? I'ma smite them this time.
"Well, you know, different name and shit. Lower profile."
- Now it all makes sense... Joey fuckin' Ratz...
"What he do to piss you off now?"
- That motherfucking dude be telling people condoms MAKE you get AIDS. That's a living thing and even I know that's whack. What the fuck is wrong with this dude?!
"Yeah, I read. So...?"
- Listen B, even in my time we knew about sheep skins. Hell, Mary can tell you all about it..."
"...I know, dawg."
- Shut yo mouth. Look, I got my hangups, you know that...
".That I know. What Mary gets out of it I'm still working on"
- Shut up, so I'm all for convincing people that gettin' down ain't no joke, but it's not like they got someone with my kinda game to walk around curing all the aids and shit, is there? The soul can be saved, AIDS you people haven't figured out yet. So I can't have this douche running around causin' AIDS in my name!"
"Whatchu mean yet dawg? Planning on a nice christmas present for the world?"
- How many times I need to tell you? I ain't you people's solution to shit! Stop 'spectin me to do stuff! Larry Bird ain't walkin' out that door! Damn!
"Ok, ok, smoke a bowl and chill the fuck out, dawg. So Joey Ratz, whaddaya wanna do? Want me to send the stunad a dead fish or something? You maybe want to take your drippin' stigmata ass over to Rome and talk to the motherfucker your damn self? No. You gonna vanish again and leave us to deal with it all."
- I tried B. Motherfucker keeps calling my name, like constantly, but won't even try to hear me when I talk back, what am I gonna do?
"Dawg, look at me."
"Look at me, Dawg."
- I'm looking straight atchu, B.
"Is there a sign on my house says Dead Prophet Therapy?"
- Pulp Fiction, and before that Get Shorty. You gotta get some fresh quotes, B.
"Yeah, low period in cinema. Anyway, point is I did NOT tell your sorry ass to become a shepherd of men. Ain't my fault you got the Bodhistava bug. With all due respect to dying Africans and Vatican vultures, I got my own problems to deal with and you ain't helping. So unless you've come to tell me where Judas hid those 30 shekels so I can make the archaeological find of the century and finally benefit from having this strange relationship, do me a fuckin' favor and let me get some work done, ok paisan?"
- Some activist. I give you the word from on high and you give me that attitude.
"High being the operative word..."
- Shut up. Tell you what, punk, put the good word in that sad ass blog of yours. Maybe one of your handful of readers can run with it.
"I can do that, Dawg. Anything else I can do for you?"
- That's it B. Peace.
"Say hello to Mary for me, Dawg!"
Whereupon there was a burst of Bach on the big ole church organ I ain't got, and a fading annoyed rasp of "Shut UP, B", and with a puff of smoke I didn't even cause, he was gone. I reached for the bowl, saw that my guest managed to pass his wrsits over it, and with a shrug sat back to fix myself a little sacrament.
(oh, and Jesus would definitely rate and comment, if he got this far...)