Jesus & The Merry Chain

Let’s face it, you can sniff these people out the minute you sit down next to them. I’m not sure why, other than the cadence in their speech.

I was in the waiting room at Pep Boys to get front brakes re-done. These fuckers overcharge for their service. But it was the only place open on Sunday, so…bummer for me. The guy next to me had a steering wheel cover and waiting on a radiator diagnostic. He’d been leaking all his fluid from the night before. Similar to a problem I’d recently paid to have my water pump repaired. It’s not cheap.

“Hey man” says I “where’d you get that?” I pointed to the steering wheel cover.

“Over there. It’s in that aisle. Thinking of getting one” He looked in his 20’s, his eyes were waaay too close. His Mom could be that chick in “Carrie.” Bug-eyed too. He seemed like a very helpful guy.

I went over to take a look at their selection and came back.

“Didn’t like anything, huh?” he inquired.

“Nah. Shopping. I gotta eventually get one, but not today.”

We chatted a little more. Found out he was from Santa Clarita and we rapped about Mentryville, a place I’d shot many a photo shoot and my upcoming short film. He saw that whole area grow.

It was a half hour in, and seeing my car was still queued to be worked on…that’s when it hit

“SO you believe in Jesus Christ is our Lord and Savior”

Oh.

Fuck.

Here I brought a book on Orson Welles to read, and he was going to get into it.

“Um…no.”

“well, look, it’s not what you think.”

Uh huh.

“It’s all about the good you believe. Jesus is the path to righteous and the path is to accept God, and you get what Jesus gets”

You mean, nailed to a cross and bled to death. He must’ve saw my thoughts, as most zealots do.

“Jesus is love. Love is accepting that we are all worth. And you have value.”

Huh. I’m listening.

“Everyone has value. I don’t believe in vengeful angry God. If you don’t believe you aren’t going to Hell. But it’s better to believe because you’ll just be happier, through love.”

Da’ fuck.

He continued “think about it, Jesus preached love and acceptance, even to the worst of us. People will test you. It’s not them testing you, it’s the unspeakable one.”

I’m thinking Satan. “…you ask Jesus to heal in your darkest hour, he will heal you.”

And what if he doesn’t I thought. He must’ve had this Jesus telepathy. “Most people who don’t heal, isn’t that they aren’t believers. Non-believers can still heal. It’s that they hold a resentful angry spirit in themselves.” So, he’s really saying do unto others…

“the minute you ask and want, you get. Which doesn’t mean bad things don’t happen.” Here comes the story.

“My friend who was 34 died of a heart attack. Broke my heart. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about him.”

Great.

“Easiest thing to do would be to shun God” (yes, they speak in this type of literary talk). “Jesus must’ve had a reason, but as I was on a mission, he took my friend from me.” Here comes the lesson. “I’m not sure why.” Huh? No lesson?

“Probably as I was down in Tiajuana, Ensenada…spreading his word, the unspeakable one did this to hurt me.” Could’ve de-pants you in Pep Boys waiting room. “But you don’t have to be a believer. Healing is just asking.”

Though I’ve been feeling like shit lately, it wouldn’t hurt to ask, I suppose. Or I could do some bullshit fairy dance and stand on my head to feel less neck, shoulder pain. Even with a down-syndrome’d face, he still was so earnest.

I interrupted “my business is full of bitter, resentful angry people. Cynical people who are assholes. They aren’t happy unless other people are miserable.”

“You ever ask them why they are so unhappy.”

“Fuck no. Why would I do that?”

“Maybe they don’t like themselves.”

I scratched my head. He had a point. My thoughts were interrupted by the attendant who told me the work on my car was going to cost me $240. Fuck a duck.

He pointed to my new Jesus friend, told him nothing was wrong with his car. And a $35 for diagnostic.

Goddammit. Maybe there's something to it.