The first coming (part II)

For the record, I feel disgusted for writing this.

Enjoy.

Meeting John was a welcome distraction for Alyssa. She managed to get close to him for a brief, fleeting moment. As she introduced herself, John held her hand firmly yet gently while their eyes locked. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alyssa,” he said.

Her heart fluttered.

That night, Alyssa treated herself to a bath. She prayed and thanked God for bringing John into her life. She needed something else to think about other than her parents, who were probably being waterboarded in some cold North Korean dungeon at that very moment. While laying in the warm water, Alyssa let her mind wander.

As she thought about John, she began exploring herself, starting with her bosom on down to her excitable parts below. Though almost 30, Alyssa had only been with one other man…a premarital mistake she hoped would never happen again. She was saving herself; saving herself for a man like John.

She was both relaxed yet enraptured by thoughts of John moving up and down her body with his large, steady hands. As she was nearing climax, Geoff slid in through the bathroom door.

“Don’t mind me,” he said, “I’m just grabbing my toothbrush.”

Startled, Alyssa sat up in the bathtub and covered herself. “Geoff!” she screamed, “do you mind?!”

“What’s the big deal?” he asked. “I’ve definitely seen a naked woman before. No need to sneak a peek of my sister in the bath.”

“Get out!”

“Were you masturbating?” Geoff asked. “You know that the Bible says we shouldn’t spill our seed.”

“I don’t have ‘seed’ you dolt!”

“Well God says we shouldn’t take pleasures in the body. So you better get out of the tub and get to bed. And never mind my erection. It’s a side effect of my blood pressure medication.”

“I’m a grown woman Geoff. You don’t have to tell me what to do.”

Geoff sighed and scratched his forehead. “Look Alyssa,” he said, “before mom and dad went to North Korea, they wanted me to look after you until God provided you with a husband. I’m sorry if I come across as a little protective. I hope you understand.”

“I do understand,” Alyssa said as she wrapped herself in a towel, “but I’m fine. We’re both grown adults. God will release mom and dad soon. I know He will. I know that none of this has been easy for you.”

“Indeed it hasn’t,” Geoff replied, then he extended out his arms. “Hug?”

“No. I’m good.”

***

Alyssa attended Wednesday Bible study in hopes that John would be there. She arrived 30 minutes early to help set up chairs and tables. As she took her seat, Brother Ted laid his hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

She gave him a faint smile then opened her Bible. As the clock struck 7pm, Brother Ted began the study. “Please turn to Mark chapter 4,” he said.

John was nowhere to be found.

Alyssa’s heart started to sink. Although she was ashamed to admit it, she began to regret coming to the meeting. Then, as Brother Ted was reading through the passage, a handsome figure walked through the door.

“Sorry I’m late,” John said, “a madman hijacked a school bus and threatened to kill everyone on board. So I had to storm the bus and strangle the man with my barehands in front of all of the children.”

“Amen Brother John,” Ted said, “glad you could make it.”

Alyssa breathed a sigh of relief and blushed a little when he gave her a glance. Brother Ted read Mark 4:30-32:

Again he said, “What shall we say the kingdom of God is like, or what parable shall we use to describe it? It is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest of all seeds on earth. Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants, with such big branches that the birds can perch in its shade,” Brother Ted read. “What does this passage mean to you?”

The room was silent for a few moments before John raised his hand. “What it means to me,” he began, “is that even though individually we are unimportant, collectively, if we are fruitful and multiply, we are powerful.”

The room nodded in agreement.

“Additionally,” John continued, “this is why it’s essential to preserve your seed. The more we waste, the less we can spread. That’s why I’m saving mine. So that one day I can plant mine into a fertile garden and have many offspring.”

He then looked over to Alyssa, who quickly looked away. But she knew. She knew right then that John was a part of God’s plan for her. As the study dragged on, Alyssa prayed for God to give her the strength to approach him.

When the study concluded, Alyssa started gathering her belongings. Then she heard a voice behind her. “Alyssa, right?” it asked. She turned around and there was John towering over her.

She nervously chuckled. “Yes,” she said.

“I heard about your parents, maybe I could fly to North Korea, take out my Bowie knife, and cut out the hearts of every commie bastard over there,” John joked.

“I’m sure you could,” Alyssa smiled, but the thought of him slaughtering millions made her loins quiver.

“I know that this is a difficult time for you,” John said, “Last night I prayed for God to return your parents home safely. So I’m sure that God will magically drop that $10.8 million into your lap at any moment. Either that, or the United States will nuke that godforsaken country right off the map. God Bless President Donald Trump, the REAL elected President. But until then, to get your mind off things, I want to invite you to a camping trip next week that I’ve organized with the church. Brother Ted will be there. And you can invite Geoff.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Alyssa replied.

A warm smile came over John’s face. “I guess I’ll see you then,” he said. She returned the smile.

Alyssa slowly walked out to her vehicle. When she climbed in, she turned up the radio and screamed for joy.

TO BE CONTINUED…


‭‭

The First Coming (preamble)

“Art thrives on limitations,” Nicholas Meyer once said.

Well this next story will put that theory to the test thanks to the limitations of its author: me.

Obviously I’ve been struggling with writer’s block for the past month. But the discovery of “Christian erotica” has awoken me from my creative slumber.

I have never written a romance story. I’ve never read one either. It’s not my thing, ya know? Plus, as a closet asexual, I don’t know what it’s like to have sex.

“But don’t you have children?” you might ask.

Sure. But I only have sex for procreation. I have never once enjoyed coming. After an orgasm, I express gratitude to my partner and we shake hands. So I’m going into this subject cold. Additionally, this will be a “Christian” story intended for a “Christian” audience.

“Why?” you might be asking. Well like I said: art thrives on limitations. But there’s another question I want to answer: can a Christian story…intended for a Christian audience…be good as opposed to absolute dogshit like most religious entertainment?

The Passion of the Christ was a decent movie from what I recall. But Mel Gibson is insane. Depictions of graphic violence is kinda his art. But like Mel Gibson, I am also insane and you have to be a little off your rocker to achieve a degree of artistic genius. I’m not saying that I’m a genius, of course. I’m just saying that I’m a clinically insane person and that’s why I’m doing this.

From my understanding, “Christian erotica” typically requires the story to revolve around a married couple. But that’s gross. So I’m gonna try to push the boundaries a little by centering it on a single woman and her desire for premarital sex with a particular man.

And that’s as far as I’ve gotten with the story. I’ll be winging it from there.

Now, some of you might have noticed that my last few stories have been somewhat “Christian”-based: According to Simon and whatever I called that one sci-fi story. But I assure you, I only pretend to be a Jehovah’s Witness online (I actually converted to Mormonism yesterday). So no worries 😉

I’ll have the opening chapter of the story posted the next time I take a shit at work.

TO BE CONTINUED…

according to Simon (part iii)

“What happened to your face?” Jacob asked as I met him at the Cyrene’s inn.

“I was attacked by one of Herod’s thugs,” I said. “They’re onto us. So watch who you talk to.”

“You didn’t tell him anything did you?”

“I told him I was a friend of Joseph’s. After that, he left me alone.”

“Shit,” Jacob said and rubbed his face. “Well good news is I met with Ananias and his wife Sapphira. Remember them?”

“The one’s from Rome?”

“Yeah. They sold some of their property in Judea. They gave the money to John to distribute to the widows outside of the city walls. It’s finally happening Simon!”

“Don’t let it get to your head!” I told him. “You still need to lie low.”

Just then a big burly fellow with six other men busted through the door. “Χαιρετίσματα Jacob,” the booming voice said.

“Hello Stephanos.”

“You’re Stephanos?!” I exclaimed.

Stephanos looked over to me and back over to Jacob. “Who’s dis?” the man asked in his Greek accent.

“Relax, he’s Simon,” Jacob replied. “He was a good friend of Yeshua’s.”

Stephanos looked me up and down. “I heard you were arrested,” he said to me.

“No, it must have been another Simon,” I replied. “I’m from Bethsaida.”

Stephanos was confused. He looked back to Jacob. “I was told that Ananias gave you money. Our women and children are starving too-“

“Now Stephanos,” Jacob interrupted, “I know where you’re going with this. But Ananias was very clear: he wanted us to use this money to help the widows of Jerusalem.”

“Because we’re Greeks we’re not as important as the Hebrews?”

“I didn’t say that. Please listen to me. I’m only respecting Ananias’ wishes.”

Stephanos was furious. “We’ve been in the streets for days while you Hebrews have been coward up in your homes! Do you support us or not?!”

“Of course I support you!” Jacob yelled then took a deep breath. “I get how you feel, Stephanos, I really do. But you gotta understand our situation. Herod and Pilate aren’t too concerned with the Greeks right now. But they are after us. We can’t be out in the streets and we don’t have the money to spread around to everyone. I’m sorry. But Ananias is a very successful man from Rome and a diaspora Jew just like yourself. If you go to him and explain your situation, he can probably provide you with some assistance.”

Stephanos stood silent for a moment then muttered something in Greek. He walked up to Jacob. “μη με σταυρώνεις,” he said. Then him and his six men left the room.

“You should’ve stayed away from him Jacob,” I said.

“I know.”

“And Stephanos is a convert. To Ananias, he’s still a Gentile. He’s not giving him the money.”

Jacob began rubbing his temples. “I need a drink,” he said.

We went down to the tavern where Levi was scribbling something down. “What are you doing?” Jacob asked him.

“The Greeks wanted something to tell the people back in the Decapolis. Something about Yeshua.”

I looked over the writing. He didn’t write much but it was all in Greek. I couldn’t understand a word of it. Jacob was puzzled. “Where did you learn to write Greek?”

“In school, here in Jerusalem” Levi replied, “I had to learn it along with Hebrew.”

“Maybe we should drop the subject of Greeks for the time being,” I said.

We sat silently drinking our wine for a few minutes. There was a commotion on the streets. Andrew came running up. “They’re about to stone some of the Greeks!” he screamed.

Jacob and Levi instantly got up. “Aren’t you coming along?” Jacob asked me. Against my better judgment, I put down the wine cup and followed them.

A few blocks away, a crowd was gathering. Some were shouting. Others gawked out of morbid curiosity. Moments later, Temple guards began dragging out seven Greeks. One of them was Stephanos.

Behind them followed a few members of the Sanhedrin, including Joseph. Standing beside him was Ananias.

“Thief! Thief!” Ananias shouted. “These men conspired with Yeshua to rob the Temple and overthrow the Romans!”

My heart began to sink. This was a setup.

The guards threw the Greeks in front of Herod’s black-cloaked mercenaries who had their spears ready. Meanwhile, the Roman guards stood back smiling at the whole affair.

A judge from the Sanhedrin stood among the crowd and faced the accused. “Conspiracy, sedition, robbery of Ananias,” the judge said, “are these accusations true?”

It didn’t matter what Stephanos said. And he knew it. From his knees, he laughed and looked at the crowd. “You stiff-necked people,” he said, “your hearts and ears are still uncircumcised. Was there ever a prophet your ancestors did not persecute? They even killed those who predicted the coming of the Righteous One. And now you have betrayed and murdered him—”

“God help you,” the judge said.

With those words, the mercenaries plunged their spears into the bellies of the Greeks. A pool of blood formed in the middle of the crowd.

Levi screamed in horror and ran away.

But the crowd was just getting warmed up. They picked up stones or any disposable object and began hurling them towards Stephanos. He got bruised and battered and knocked in the head a few times but kept crawling forward.

Among the mercenaries, I recognized a familiar face: The scars….the scabs…the wiry frame. It was him alright. It was the man that attacked me a few days earlier.

And Stephanos kept crawling towards this man as the stones were raining down on him. When he reached his feet, Stephanos grabbed the man’s cloak and got to his knees.

I was too far away to hear anything, but Stephanos was clearly saying something to this man. Judging by his face, the figure was stunned by what was being said. But before the figure could react, a member of the crowd smashed a rock into Stephanos’ skull.

The man in the black cloak stood back with blood and brain matter splattered all over his face. He was in a daze.

Before the crowd could mutilate the bodies, Joseph stepped in to quiet them. That’s enough!” he yelled. “The perpetrators of the Passover sedition have been caught and punished! This matter is closed! Please return to your homes!” As the crowds dispersed, the Temple guards started dragging the bodies outside of the city walls.

Jacob and I returned to the inn in silence. We didn’t know what to make of what just happened. “Do we leave Jerusalem?” Jacob asked.

“Why?” I replied. “It looks like Joseph and Ananias took care of our problem.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

spreading the good news

So I was taking a shit at work while reading the Bible (I’m a devout Jehovah’s Witness btw) when I ran out of toilet paper.

“Can you get me a roll, Bill?” I asked

“Sure thing buddy!”

Instead of throwing the roll into the stall, he sat it on the bathroom counter. So I had waddle up to the counter with my pants around my ankles and shit in my butt.

The End

what is truth?

Obviously I’m going through a Bart D Ehrman phase. It’s not because I agree with him most of the time or that I find him a master debater (sorry, had to say it). It’s because he’s the only public intellectual that I can think of at the top of my head that has a genuine passion for teaching.

Because Ehrman’s area of expertise is the Bible, specifically the New Testament and early Christianity, people naturally have strong opinions about the subject. Some people, specifically atheists but a few Christians aren’t exempt, like to use this subject as a way to “trigger” their opponents.

This is a fad on YouTube. The “Intellectual Dark Web” (IDW), or guys that found fame on the internet during the “alt-Right” hay day (people like Sam Harris, Jordan Peterson, Ben Shapiro, etc.) perfected the science of “triggering” (also known as “owning the libs”) and many online personalities have attempted to emulate it, including leftists with varying degrees of success. It’s a way of weaponizing information.

This phenomenon is not exclusive to discussions on the Bible, religion, and politics, but even movies and fucking geography!

Because “owning the line” is currency on YouTube, this has led to many quaks pretending to be experts littering the platform and distracting us away from those trying to present information in good faith.

Just because an opinion triggers someone, that doesn’t give it more credence. But that appears to be sound logic in some circles. Even if the opinion is true, if presented in a way that’s designed to give offense, that doesn’t make the one with the opinion more noble or virtuous…it makes you an asshole.

Thankfully my man Ehrman avoids that.