Howdy, Jesus!

lee barron Howdy Jesus, I said to the cowpoke after I asked him his name to which he told me it was Jesus. I rightly took him to be a smark aleck and so's I said draw. But before I could, the fellow produced a red pen from nowhere and scribbled on a piece of paper (which also materialized out of thin ar) and thusly 'drawing' a pichur. He showed it to me as I re-holstered my six shooter. On the picture was one word. The word said 'love'. Since I was illiterate at the time I shot his ass. But the bullet stopped in mid air before hittin 'im and dropped to the ground. My next plan of attack was to buy the feller a sasperilla at the Marmot Saloon twixt Betsy's brothel and Culpepper's, the town mortician. I asked his name and agin he said it were Jesus. Jesus.

Now I don't rightly know how the this a here stranger got all the way to Ft. Dammit, Texas without getting durn near kilt. Or just outright made plain fun of and runned off. I reckin the Injuns didn't give a shit.

So I replied to him terrickly. An' said Howdy Jesus agin. Before I tole him my moniker, he told me my own name firstly, an followed that up with 'my son' er some shit. I thought to myself this long heered feller might be plum loco, or he might have just ascertained my name through some kind of body language. Next, he jes shook my hand.

As we walked through the swinging doors of the saloon he cured Mabel's genital warts and Lemont's lame foot, blind eye and limp pecker. I don't know for sure on that one but he said his eye was blind.

As he sidled up to the bar he turned all the water into wine and the sasperilla into plain gin and the vodka he turned into more expensive vodka and the beer he didn't give two shits about so he left it alone. Matthew the Turd Burglar came in and as was his wont, blew a few kisses around and just before he was gonna git his ass whupped by Bart and Fart, the Mongol twins; Jesus said to him 'it's plum loco to be lavender and gave him some fancy talking to and Matt decided right then and there to just court fellers that wore dresses instead a regular cowpokes with a diferrence. I reckon that was all right by me too. Before he left, he gave a real invogoratin' speech about a lot of good stuff. Highlights included good vs. evil. Freedom of choice. Fairness. But didn't clear up that evolution business. Well, quicker than you can say Flannery O'Connor, that sumbitch disappeared into thin ar. All that was left was that piece of paper. Guess he was Jesus. But we'll never know because there weren't no damn rock to look behind, no cave, no twelve disciples and no Pontius Pilot. Nuthin'. So we had to take it on good faith that he was not a mirage or mind creature. Or a ghost. But Ft. Dammit was so boring no ghost would even think of hangin' around to haunt anyway. So that's mah story of Jesus on that long hot day in Ft. Dammit Texas in the summer of 2002.

But it don't end there. When I got into my beat up ol' Volvo station wagon and started down highway 183, I noticed my automatic transmission wasn't a slippin'. The ol war horse didn't backfire or catch on fire and burn a little like it always did. Weird.

As I cruised by the D.Q., I read the stencil spray painted letters in the window that said "Merry Christmas" in a real incincere fuckin' way; so I rolled down the window an let that cold December wind a blow in an' I proceeded to flip that sign off and yelled "Merry Chris my ass!" I rolled it back up and smiled quietly to myself a knowin' that I had talked to the real Jesus and that they didn't know what they wus fuckin' even sayin' Merry Christmas to!

And not only that, my old little tree air fresh'ner was all the sudden smellin' sweet agin.

Thank you and aidos Jesus.