“Oh my god, JESUS, where are my car keys” my anger clearly on the surface for all to see as I shift the sofa cushion up.
All I find are hairs and a couple of rice crisp’s that have escaped from the breakfast bowl.
“Hey man, don’t take my father’s name in vain”
Drools Jesus, who’s lounging in a battered armchair near the TV. The screen playing the fresh prince of Belair.
His long hair covers his modesty as he isn’t wearing anything but an old lion cloth.
“Jesus you’re the worst roommate. I mean look. Why do you have to keep hiding thing? Last week, you parted the water at the local park and hide my car inside.
Jesus looks at me barely suppressing his laughter.
“I think we need to talk; it’s all well and good that you help people out and all that but seriously! Paul is passed out in the corner again; Matthew has locked himself in the toilet again….
Jesus rolls to his sandaled feet and goes over to the fridge. A fridge magnet with a picture of Jesus on it. It reads “I had followers before Twitter.” He fills a large glass with cold water and returns the jug back to the fridge.
“…you have people coming over all hours during the night begging you to cure them…”
Jesus rolls his eyes and removes a strand of hair out of his face, plopping back into the armchair, he slowly stirs the water in the glass with a finger.
“…you’ve never paid me a dime in rent.”
“Hold on.” Jesus raises a wobbly finger. The water swells and starts to turn red.
“I did cure you of that little problem, *hiccups* you know “downstairs”.
I can feel the embarrassment coloring my cheeks.
“Um…yeah, well um yeah thanks for that but anyway, you’re drunk again.”
“In my defense *hiccup* I can’t help it, it just turns to wine”.
The living room slams open and in walks Judas.
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