Flaming Messiah
(page 4)
I twisted my body to the left and eyed a micropath to the food table about 8 feet away, close to a wall. The beaded curtain was still only a few feet behind us. Surprisingly, that's only as far as we'd been able to travel up to this point. It might have been a good idea just to leave. We weren't sure what we were going to gain by staying. It would have been too easy to succumb to our discomfort and just go home, but we stayed anyway. I figured that since we were here anyway, this would be the perfect opportunity for me to work through some of my social phobias.
I twisted my body to loom above the party some more. It appeared that cake was the only food left on the food table. "I don't know about this," I thought. We were looking for more meaningful sustenance, not just dessert. We took a cautious, exploratory step forward. I slid my left foot forward as I held onto Deborah's coat. Unfortunately for her, she was as short or shorter than the guests so she had to rely on me for guidance. I was just as trapped as she was, but I was the tall one and I had to be the protector. I was concerned, though I couldn't let her sense my concern. I knew that if I lost my grip I'd probably never see her again and I'd be alone in life. That's because I'm a social retard. It would be like losing her at sea. The briny deep would swallow her up like it swallows those drunks with party hats who disappear off cruise ships trying to recreate that scene on the bow of the Titanic in that movie. So I clamped onto her coat sleeve the way I'd grip the sleeve of one of my kids when we'd cross the street. We pressed ahead.
I slowly shuffled one foot forward, then the other. I craned my neck to see if there was any other food besides dessert on the table when I saw a glow out of the corner of my eye. It was coming from the direction of one of the other guests. He was a short guy, shorter than the others. His shortness was no surprise, but this person was dressed wrong, not in the fashion of the evening. He had a survival jacket on. It was infinitely more unstylish than what I was wearing which made him infinitely more remarkable and noticable than I could ever be.
His hair was unstylish too. It was long and fuzzy... like bad hippy hair. It billowed from the collar of his Army surplus jacket which coincidentally had a hairy collar that only amplified his own hairiness. He was facing our direction and was standing near the wall with the ledge, the one with the candles. He looked like a little-bitty make believe Jesus with his long hair and beard and all. That's not because he wore an Army surplus jacket, because that's ridiculous. It was because he had a halo... just like the Jesus on the novena candles. This Jesus wore glasses, though, unlike the one on the candles.
I assume that we were all Americans here in the room and we'd all seen the Christmas specials on network prime-time TV. We'd heard all the Easter stories too. Even if you're Jewish, you know almost as common folk knowledge, that Jesus is supposed to come back some day. For all anyone really knew, this could have been that big day. Of course, the Jesus we know in our minds looks a lot taller from all the pictures we've seen, and a little more buff, but pictures lie. Chuck Norris, for instance, is only 5 foot 7, but he looks a lot taller in the movies. So is Tom Cruise, they say, but I don't know for sure. I do know for a fact, though, that Chuck Norris is pretty short. I saw him once at a Fourth of July fireworks show.
read more