And this body isn’t big enough for the both of us.

One of us has to go, and it’s gonna be him.

I banishing the Geek forever to the Phantom Zone,

just like in Superman II!

Because, in the end…

there can be only one.

BOTTOM BUNK MESSIAH

The second semester of my sophomore year at college

I shared my dorm room with Jesus Christ,

and I think I can honestly say that I wasn’t the least bit trepidatious

about sharing my dorm room with a foreign exchange student

because I figured that anything had to be better than my last roommate:

who was a dim-witted, misogynistic, knuckle-dragging

football-playing business-slash-physical education major

whom I had considered killing

in his sleep

on several occasions,

just to get him out of my room,

out of my life,

and out of the gene pool.

But luckily he was now serving five to fifteen years

on three counts of date rape

at a Cincinnati correctional facility

where, if there is any justice,

he is being sodomized on hourly shifts.

So in comparison, I figured bunking with this low-key Yanni

look-alike from Bethlehem would be a welcome change.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I first met “The Lord” as he was moving into our dorm room,

and I helped him assemble this rickety-looking entertainment center

that his step-father, a carpenter, had made for him

as a combination birthday-slash-Christmas present.

I immediately sympathized with how bad it must suck having

a birthday that falls right on Christmas, because you know that

everyone is just gonna lump all your presents together.

But he just gave me a confused look and continued to unpack

his wardrobe, which consisted of six togas

and two pairs of Birkenstocks.

In a few weeks, he started to get on my nerves.

First my VHS copy of Monty Python’s Life of Brian shows up

broken and in the trash.

Like I’m not going to figure out who did that.

Then his friends, or “apostles” as he called them, started to crash

in our room. Just a few of them at first, and only a few nights a week,

but before too long there were TWELVE of these assholes,

and they were sleeping on our floor

seven nights a week.

And one of them was always stealing my Pepsi.

I suspect it was Judas.

After a while, the whole “Son of God” thing

started to go to his head.

He started to get reckless.

He started curing frat boys of their gonorrhea for a nominal fee

to make a little money on the side.

Then one night his girlfriend, a political science major

named Mary Magdalene, had a party.

She only invited about 30 people, but over 200 showed up.

And by then Jesus was already baked off his gourd,

and when the beer ran out

he started turning the tap water into Heineken.

Right in front of everyone.