oxbuttox

i go out to meet my mailbox every while. each time it is in a different place in the universe, but to me it seems like it's in the same place everyday (except when a drunk smashes it with his humdinger.) anyway, yesternight i received jesus christ in the mail. jc had a valve with a little tube and i blew jc's tube and inflated his ass. there are different tubes and valves for each part of jc's wherewithal. ass you might expect if you are the skeptic that i am, one of jc's ass bulbs did not inflate, more or less, and the rest of jc remained deflated as i stood there frustrated. as of then, my neighborhood came to my where. my neighborhood killeth my new jesus toy ded, "not to be," according to ham-n-egg-lette. twuz like the story of the crossifuxion. they whooped and punctured jc's single big butt bulb and then glued his flat plastic semblance to my mailbox and started grunting and hurling detritus, slag, jetsam, chattel, debris, flotsam, cultch, offscourings, orts, mullock, dregs, rubble, draff, fragments, swill, and debitage at my flat jesus christ. unnaturally i broke off a sharp sliver of the waxing moon and stabbed my neighborhood. i killed them to death. i ripped them a new one. then it was just me and flat jc. i pulled jc's mangled corpse down from my boite de poste, folded him up into a little wad and hid him inside the fake plastic stone that i hide my key in. three latterdays later i was coming out the chimney (i am santa clause and i have to exercise with the chimney to keep fit. i callz it the chimneyzium.) i jumped down and landed near the fake plastic rock. it was three latterdays after the neighborhood massacre and i sort of expected the stone to roll away. but instead, apparently jc self-inflated, possibly aided by the almighty, and the rock exploded and there stood giant puffy jesus, looking like the old michelin man, but more arabic in style of clothing and coiffure. he couldn't speak because balloon toys can't talk, at least not this one anyway. but he saw a baguette sitting on the picnic table and converted that into about 200 cases of wine, which i really appreciated. what's 200 times 12? what's 2400 divided by 365? that's just about a 6.58 year supply of wine for me. i think he meant for me to share the wine with my neighborhood. i didn't have the heart to tell big balloon jesus that i had stabbed my neighborhood and killed it to death. then jesus did some other miraculous miracles like mowing my lawn without using the lawnmower, paying off my mortgage, smiting all my known enemies, and, through his far-reaching influence stuffed rolled-up socks into the mouths of the politicians in the world and caused them all to suffocate simultaneously. i found out about this later on the olds, and it was pretty satisfying. then jesus let go of the tree branch he was holding on to (he had apparently self-inflated with helium) and floated up to meet his maker.