Well, He didn't literally speak. He sent one of His divine messengers to do the speaking. I was sitting on the porch with my laptop when she approached. "Can I leave one of these here?" she said. I was tempted to pretend that I didn't hear her angelic inquiry over the sound of Incubus blaring in my earbuds, but I broke down and made eye contact. "Sure," I said. She left a flier on my porch and bid me good day, in that slightly off-putting way that divine messengers have.
After she drove off in her heavenly Buick Skylark, I snatched up the flier. "FOLLOW THE CHRIST!" it yelled in 48 point Times New Roman. At first I was skeptical. Can you imagine following the Christ? I might be willing to open for Him, but follow Him? Even John the Baptist knew better than to follow the Christ. He was all like, "Thanks a lot folks, you've been great. Don't forget to tip your waitresses. Now here's the guy you've been waiting for, the Christ!"
But upon closer examination, the flier wasn't at all what I thought it was. I ran inside and showed it to my wife.
"Look at this," I said. She read the headline, and then her eyes fell to the illustration of a well groomed European gentleman whose smiling visage filled most of the page.
"Hey," she said. "Isn't that...?"
"I think so," I said.
"The similarity..." she said. "This can't be a coincidence."
"No, it can't. There's no other explanation."
"So...."
"That's right," I said. "Peter Petrelli from ABC's hit TV show Heroes is the long-awaited Messiah!"
A closer look at Peter, highlighting the facial characteristics suggestive of deity:
He's tall, handsome, charismatic... everything you could ever want in a savior. And he can fly and absorb other heroes' powers, just like in the Bible. What more evidence could you need?
Man, I would love to hang around with Messiah Peter Petrelli. We'd vanquish evildoers, play touch football, hit all the trendy clubs....
Ah, who am I kidding? Messiah Peter Petrelli is way too cool for the likes of me. Chicks would be swarming all over him, and people would be taking his picture, and I'm sure he'd be cool about it but it would always be, "Hey, Diesel, just one more autograph, ok? Then I can save you from your sins and we can go do karaoke." But hours later, I'd be drowning my sorrows alone in a bar, racking up sin after sin as I mangled the lyrics of STP's Interstate Love Song.
Nah, I think I'm going to stick with the swarthy little Jewish dude. He's more my speed.
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Labels: Exemplary Police Work
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