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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 half-empty case of Miller High Life. The phone rings, and the man answers it.

“Hello, Satan’s Dildo Emporium. How may I help you? I’m just kidding, it’s Jesus! Hello? Anyone there? Really, I’m Jesus Christ. It was just a gag. Hello? Ma’am? Oh boy. I’m probably gonna get an earful about that one later.”

Jesus hangs up. The phone immediately rings again. Jesus answers.

“Hello, Jesus speaking. How may I help you? Yes, I placed the Craigslist ad selling a futon. No, I’m not really interested in ‘unique trades.’ Why the hell would I want to trade my futon for another futon? Sir, while I appreciate that your futon comes with your ‘whorish wife,’ I’m going to have to pass. Make it your teenage daughter and I might reconsider. Thanks anyway.”

Jesus hangs up. The phone immediately rings again. Jesus answers.

“Hello, Jesus speaking. How may I help you? No, I can’t force more people to ride bicycles instead of driving. Well, have you ever driven a car? They’re friggin’ awesome. I can play Foghat 8-tracks in my car. Can I play them on your bicycle? I can’t, can I? Answer me, goddamn it! I asked you a question! Yeah, that’s right, you can’t play Foghat 8-tracks on a bike. Yeah. Enjoy being all sweaty when you get to work each morning. Yeah, bye, dickface.”

Jesus hangs up. The phone immediately rings again. Jesus answers.

“Hello, Jesus speaking. How may I help you? No, we don’t have KIVA bars. I mean, I have some, but they’re for me. I think you meant to call the marijuana dispensary. It’s one number off from this number. Who am I? I’m Jesus Christ, your Lord and Savior. Yes, I’m completely serious. Yes, I imagine this IS quite embarrassing for you. No worries, though. I see everything you do anyway. All right. Yep, snootchie bootchies to you, too.”

Jesus hangs up. The phone immediately rings again. Jesus answers.

“Hello, Jesus speaking. How may I help you? Yes, I’m aware of the screen freezing problem with Skyrim. There’s nothing I can really do about it. It’s Bethesda’s video game, so they have to fix it. I know. Yes, I know. No, I don’t know how to get past the waterfall level in Contra. I think it’s pretty much impossible. I know, right? The damn screen keeps moving, so you can’t even stop for a second. I gave up after my hands got tired from trying so many times. Yeah, well, wish into one hand and crap into the other. All right, bye.”

Jesus hangs up. The phone immediately rings again. Jesus answers.

“Hello, Jesus speaking. How may I help you? You want winter to go away? Last fall you were praying for snow. You BEGGED ME for snow, Billy. You wanted to go sledding and build a snowman. You wanted a foot of snow so you wouldn’t have to go to elementary school the next day. Now you want the opposite? Well, fuck you, Billy. Jesus is tired and it’s 4:30 p.m., so you can go to hell. No, not literally. It’s just a thing people say. All right, I’ll give Billy Graham a high-five . . . though it’s kinda tough since he’s in hell. What? Nothing. Never mind. Gotta go.”

Jesus hangs up. The phone immediately rings again. Jesus answers.

“Hello, Jesus speaking. How may I help you? All right, I’ve had enough with this college basketball crap. If I get one more call about Final Four teams, I’ll make Gonzaga lose to a number nine seed as punishment. Oh, you think I can’t do that? I can do that. I’m God, I can do anything. Sigh. No, I can’t get past the waterfall level in Contra either. I was talking to this other guy about it, and we think it’s pretty much impossible. I know, right?! The damn screen just keeps moving! It’s terrible. It’s just awful. Not as bad as Battletoads, but close. All right, well, good luck.”

Jesus hangs up. The phone immediately rings again. Jesus answers.

“Hello, Jesus speaking. How may I help you? All right. Just this once. Try 43, 17, 23, 37, 51, and 2. Keep in mind, that’s just off the top of my head, so it might not win the full Powerball, but you’ll at least get a few hundred out of it. And don’t spread this around, okay? I’m just doing it for you because I like Asian people best. That’s why I made so many of them. No problem.”

Jesus hangs up. The phone immediately rings again. Jesus answers.

“Hello, Jesus speaking. How may I help you? Yes, I’m aware of Paul Ryan’s recent column about me. Yes, I’m aware that he’s blasphemous and breaks at least seven of the ten commandments on an hourly basis. That’s why I made him diabetic and impotent. He will eventually drown in a puddle of his own tears, or possibly from eating a cookie. However, there are ways you could use his vulgarities for good. For instance, why not write a long, rambling letter to the editor—longer than the very column you’re addressing—in which you quote seventeen paragraphs of scripture that will make people instantly stop reading? That would show him a thing or two, and would certainly keep him from writing ANOTHER column mocking me. Great, thanks! Can’t wait to see it.”