My Jesus eggs

I was eating scrambled eggs this morning, shoveling them in, barely chewing. Inhaling might be a better word. Yes, inhaling will do nicely. At any rate I was just about finished when I happened to look down at my plate and there next to the crust of my toast lay Jesus Christ. Yes, I said it, Jesus Christ was in my scrambled eggs. Not only was he in my eggs he was on the cross in my eggs. Can you imagine? I felt so very special. To think Jesus would send little old me a message in my eggs. Well, not wanting the eggs to rot but eager to show all those in the world that I was indeed special I went to my garage and got a can of shellac. I shellacked my Jesus eggs and put them in a pantyhose egg and then I headed off for work. That may seem redundant to put Jesus eggs in a panty hose egg but I can assure you that it is probably one of the safest ways to carry any type of perishable food item. In fact in the bunker I’ve constructed under my home all my perishable food stuffs are stored in pantyhose eggs but of course I digress what I really want to tell you about is my Jesus eggs and what happened to them.

When I got to work I E-mailed the local paper and reported my Jesus eggs to them asking if perhaps they’d like to do a feature on us (me and the eggs). They never responded. I took my Jesus eggs to lunch and opened the pantyhose egg exposing them. “Uh, excuse me,” the waitress said, “you can’t bring food in here. This is a restaurant.” “Oh, this isn’t food,” I said, “this is Jesus.” They kicked me out of the restaurant. “Fuck you,” I yelled outside the restaurant, “Jesus doesn’t love you anyway.”

On my way back to work I stopped at a hotdog cart. I set my pantyhose egg holding my Jesus eggs down on the hotdog cart while getting my wallet out. I ordered two chili dogs, potato chips and a Diet Coke and paid the man. With food in hand I went to retrieve my Jesus eggs but my pantyhose egg was GONE!

“Someone stole my fucking Jesus eggs,” I yelled. “Easy big guy,” the hotdog vendor said. “Easy? Easy?” I said, “ Do you know I found Christ in my eggs?” “I didn’t know Jesus was missing,” the hotdog vendor said. “What’s all the hubbub about?” a portly cop said. He burped and his breath smelled like shellac. I was sure then that he had eaten my Jesus eggs. Surely he would go to hell…