Jesus Ice

It always starts the same. There's this big hill. Made of ice. In the center of the golf course. And all of these people are trying to walk up the hill. But they can't. Because it's made of ice. So they slip down to the bottom, moaning and crying, and then try again.

That's not the weird part though.

You see, on top of the ice hill sitting in the middle of the golf course is Jesus. And just like it always starts the same, I always think, is Jesus cold, sitting up there cross legged on top of a hill of ice watching all these people try and walk up, but who can't, because of the ice.

I never try and walk up the side of the hill. I guess because I'm watching everyone else try to walk up the side of the hill. Or maybe it has more to do with my fuck you attitude toward it all. You can't say fuck you to Jesus though. At least I don't think so. I'm not really sure to be honest and I've always been afraid to ask a member of the clergy. Which is why I asked Kraig who told me I would probably go to hell.

"For asking the question?" I asked.

"For asking me the question," he said.

"I thought Jesus was all about love?"

"He is, until you say the f word."

"Do you think Jesus would be cold sitting indian style on the hill of ice?" I asked Kraig.

"No." Kraig said. "Jesus is like a super hero. Ice and cold wouldn't bother him."

"But the f word would?" I asked.

"You're going to hell." Kraig told me again.