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A bearded man sits at a table in a small room. The space is completely empty except for the table, a folding chair, and a hamburger phone. The phone rings, and the man answers it.
“Hello, Jesus speaking. How may I help you? Yes, I remember your grandfather. Well, he died because he was old. Look kid, I didn’t ‘take’ him from you, his organs just stopped working. Shit breaks. Get used to it. Grandpas don’t come with warranties. You ever buy a box of pens, and you take a fresh one out of the box and ink starts leaking all over the place? It’s kinda like that. Shit happens. Sorry.”
Jesus hangs up. The phone immediately rings again. Jesus answers.
“Hello, Jesus speaking. How may I help you? No, I’m not terribly concerned that the Jets haven’t won a Super Bowl in a while. I’ve got more important things to worry about. To be honest, I don’t even follow sports. No, it’s not that. I like sports. I used to follow them religiously when I was a kid, but now I’m older and I’ve got a full-time job with long hours, and I just don’t have time to keep up with the games and everything. You know how it goes. Who? Sorry, I don’t know who that is. I’m glad he’s a big fan of mine, but he’s probably the second string quarterback for a reason. Look man, I’ve got like a thousand little kids a day calling because they’ve got cancer. The Jets can handle their own shit. Maybe tell them to focus more on free agency.”
Jesus hangs up. The phone immediately rings again. Jesus answers.
“Hello, Jesus speaking. How may I help you? Uh-huh. That’s cute, kid, but I can’t make that girl like you. Why not? Think about it. You want me to mess with her brain so she likes you? What am I, a rapist hypnotist? How would you like it if I messed with YOUR brain and made you like that smelly girl who always wipes boogers on your locker? Not so fun when the shoe is on the other foot, is it? All right then. You have a nice day, too.”
Jesus hangs up. The phone immediately rings again. Jesus answers.
“Hello, Jesus speaking. How may I help you? Sorry, you’ve got the wrong number. No, there’s no Eddie Harris Jr. here. I wish you’d take me off your list. You’ve been calling me once a month for almost three years. It’s not like he’s going to get his old phone number back at some point. No, I don’t know his new number. Do an internet search or something. You work at a collection agency, dingus. Collect it yourself.”
Jesus hangs up. The phone immediately rings again. Jesus answers.
“Hello, Jesus speaking. How may I help you? You wish you weren’t fat? Have you tried standing up and moving? I notice a lot of obese people tend to overlook that step. Look, I’m sorry that you think I’m an ass, but you know I’m not a wishing well, right? I’m your Lord and Savior, not a genie you freed from a magic lamp. If you want to be thinner or more successful or be in a nicer place in life, you have to earn those things yourself with hard work. Don’t sit around waiting for me or my dad to drop everything in your lap. Do some damn work, for shit’s sake. Jesus Christ.”
Jesus hangs up. The phone immediately rings again. Jesus answers.
“Hello, Jesus speaking. How may I help you? Well, I’m single but I’m not single. No, I’m not really into that. Yes, I’m aware that a guy in his early 30s who doesn’t have a wife is ‘suspicious,’ but that’s not really my scene. I dunno, man. I’m not sure where gay guys hang out. Have you tried enrolling in college and joining a fraternity? That’s pretty much the gayest thing I can imagine. All right, well good luck.”
Jesus hangs up. The phone immediately rings again. Jesus answers.
“Hello, Jesus speaking. How may I help you? Sorry, no nip slip requests. That’s more of a luck thing, which is the opposite of what I do. Yeah, I suspect most of them are staged, too. I’m sure Chloe Grace Moretz will have her moment, though. All right, mazel tov to you as well.”
Jesus hangs up. The phone immediately rings again. Jesus answers.
“Hello, Jesus speaking. How may I help you? Ugh. Please stop calling, Steven. Yes, I know Lincoln deserved the Oscar. I’m here for the needy and unfortunate. You’re worth an estimated three billion dollars. You have four houses and a blowjob robot. A blowjob robot, Steven! If anything, I’m going to make your life worse to even things out for everyone else. What’s that? Fuck me? Fuck you, you pretentious shitcow! Yeah, you go ahead and talk to my dad! See where it gets you! He knows the score! I’m here working my ass off all day, and you’re a spoiled brat! Silver Linings Playbook was more fun! I liked it more than Lincoln, asshole! Go suck your own dick!”
Jesus slams down the phone. It immediately rings again.
“Man, this job fucking sucks.”
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