So there I was, just chilling with a few friends, when out of nowhere a bunch of jews decide to grab me. Little did I know they thought I was a heretic and a blasphemer. All I was doing was tying to get people to do some nice things. Love each other, nothing complicated. Apparently I pissed off the Man.
So out of nowhere they pick me up. Treat me like a terrorist or something. I mean, come on, seriously!
*sigh*
I knew it was coming, being God's son and all, but it still hurt.
The Pharisees took me to the Romans, they imprisoned me, put my poor ass up on a cross. Have you ever had that happen to you? I would recommend against it. Shit was not cash. It was uncomfortable in ways you can't imagine. Everything in my body hurt, every time I tried to relax my aching muscles it hurt more. And this went on for hours, until my body just quit, said 'I'm out, have fun.'
After that I spent three beautiful and glorious days chilling in Hell with my man Satan. You can't imagine the parties we had, raging night and night, getting so high and fuxked up on anything and everything imaginable. It was the time of my eternity.
On that last day/night/whatever dad calls down to me, 'Time to return to Earth, my son.' Goddamnit.
*sigh*
So then I returned, did some more magic to wow the crowds. Finally made my way back to boring old home, where everyone, all the time is singing glory for dad. Holy holy holy is he. Wooo.
*sigh*
I miss Hell.
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