So we were talking about something, and I exclaimed...
"Jesus."
A beat.
"Died for your sins."
"He really had something going on that day, was kinda busy, but he did it anyway. Just because he loves you."
"Watch, he'll come down and be like, "Dude, that's just not cool. You, you stupidhead. You funny looking fat idiot."
"I could've made you better looking and skinnier, but I'm not going to, because I'm better than you. You stupidhead."
A beat.
"You're right, he probably won't call me stupidhead. He'd call me a Fucktard."
"A fuck tart?" my wife asked.
"Yes, a fuck tart. Like for breakfast with my coffee."
And still, my wife whose Christianity will probably salvage me to a slightly more comfortable depth of hell, loves me and my monologues.
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