Revelations(47)

Stealing, and skipping school. You turned him gay, all of you! You ruined his life!” Ho hum, how very tiresome. Perhaps it’s time I came to the rescue of these poor boys, and put an end to these dreary true confessions. It won’t really do to let Jesus speak; he has this way with people that I’d like to avoid. I take up a position between these two sheep. My hands are piously clasped before me as I regard the sinners in our midst, while maintaining a grave and sober mien. “They aren’t bad boys, they’re just misguided,” I insist in my best Sunday go-to-meeting voice, “they just need to be shown the error of their ways, don’t you think? Be put back onto the path of righteousness.”

“Hear, hear,” echoes behind me. The sheep are shuffling. Time to move them along. We’ve done enough damage here, I think. Judas is livid, and he’s barely being contained by his lover. I’m just enjoying the fuck out of this.

My attention is caught by Jesus, a slight movement on his part. His eyes meet mine, and I sense he’s trying to tell me something. Interesting. Something he obviously doesn’t want Judas to know about, as it’s being done over his head, out of his sight. I’ll definitely have to check this out later. Could be fun.

For now, Sheriff K diplomatically herds us out of his office, and I allow him to do so. Under the guise of giving the accused time with his lawyer. I could burst that particular bubble right here and now. But I don’t. Maybe when the time’s right. For now I want to hold onto that little bit of leverage, see what it comes to. I should see what Jesus wants, but before I go, one more thing. I hand the sheriff a book, nodding toward the two in the cell. “For them, for the salvation of their souls,” I tell him gravely, before I move my flock outside. Are we leaving? Oh hell no, we’ve only just begun. This is where we’ve left the picket signs—the ones that say Death to Sodomites, God Hates a Homo, and other cute sayings. The signs are handed around, and the members of my flock begin their vigil outside the jail, walking back and forth, buttonholing anyone who walks by to tell them about the sinner in our midst. This is just so priceless.

What was the book I gave them to read? Are you kidding me? The Holy Bible, of course. What else?

Don’t I have a wonderful sense of humor?





Chapter Twenty-Six: Mary Magdalene


This has got to qualify as one of the weirdest days ever. No shit Sherlock, and straight out damn.

I just don’t mean the part where Jesus has already been arrested, even though it’s way too early—that’s weird by itself, and damn unsettling. What happened to the script? It’s like it doesn’t exist right now. Or else none of us have the same script, or something, ’cause we sure aren’t on the same page, I’m here to tell you.

But taking the cake in this realm of weirdness and things I would’ve bet good money on would never happen in my lifetime is the part with me and Judas Iscariot not only getting along, but me braiding his damn hair! And I massaged his temples!

And I kissed his forehead! I know, you’re thinking this isn’t me, chick, but I checked, it is. What’s up with this?

Just when you think you know how something’s going to turn out, life bites you on the ass, and says hey, you’re all wrong.

Now I’m back here with the boys, trying to sort things out, figure out how I feel about things. Other than confused, that is.

It’s hard to think I’ve been wrong about Judas for over two thousand years; I don’t really think I have been. Not totally wrong, that is. He has been a major pain in the ass, as well as a major dick, too. But at least now I think I know why; I guess I understand. If I’d been in love with Jesus the way he has for this long, and had to keep betraying him, over and over and over…I mean I get it, it’s what he’s supposed to do, and all that. But still…it has to be hard on him. Especially since he couldn’t talk to anyone about it. He knows we all hate him.

Not like we all didn’t know how he felt. To be honest, we really didn’t care. He made us not care about him. But yeah, it’s not all his fault. And it’s not ours either.



It’s not gonna be easy to explain this to the guys. Much as they love me—

which they do—and much as they really love Jesus, they hate Judas. I mean seriously hate him. With the exception of Thomas. Hmmm, gotta do some serious thinking.

Now, the question is, what are we going to do? I get the feeling Judas isn’t going to take this lying down. Not that I expect him to confide in me or anything.

That’d be asking a whole lot from him, and I can’t blame him for not trusting me.