The day the Second Coming of Jesus Christ revealed himself, I’d stubbed my toe really bad. I limped into the kitchen. My girlfriend, Y, had CNBC pulled up on her iPhone 8+ and they were talking about Him. He was wearing jeans, a HARVARD sweatshirt, and His name was Abu. He was floating twenty feet above the Chrysler building.
“Do you want me to get you some ice sweetie?” Y asked.
“Nuh-uh.” My toe was throbbing. I just needed a minute.
Then Abu, the Second Coming of Jesus Christ, cried out:
“I am here to bring the world JOY!”
And as He said JOY, I felt it. I could see that Y felt it too, the most exquisite and intense orgasm rang through my body. I seized and all thoughts, all pain, all feeling but overwhelming ecstasy left me.
It stopped when they blew Him out of the sky with a surface-to-air missile, shot from 3rd and 42nd. It took the top of the Chrysler building with it. I checked my pants to be sure they were dry. Y looked at me like she’d just finished a sub-portioned appetizer and raised an eyebrow. My toe began to hurt again.
“Actually, could you get me some ice?”
She sighed and got up. She took a Ziplock bag and filled it with ice. She wrapped a dish rag around it to protect from the cold. We turned back to her phone and, as the debris cleared, we saw Abu rise again, His clothes gone; He had no belly-button or penis and His hair was all burned off. He looked wild.
He wiped the dirt from His face and said,
“I’ll be back. Motherfuckers.”
Y turned the phone over. I placed the make-shift ice pack on my toe, and it began feeling better. Y ran her fingers through my hair and asked if maybe I’d feel like having sex in an hour.
“I don’t know,” I told her. “It’s up to my toe, really.”
Featured art by Nikita Klimov. Originally published in The Moss.