The Lead-Up to the Jesus Conversations

May 10, 2009 at 11:09 pm (My Buddy Jesus) ()

*Author’s note:  Here we see the progression of the Jesus Conversation as it begins to take shape as a lighthearted affair rather than an angry accusatory moment of lowness.  Also, this is the first time we see the fateful “To Be Continued…” in a script of mine, though it most certainly won’t be the last.  Ahem…enjoy!


Babysitting on Winter Formal Night:

Tonight is the dreaded Winter Formal night. How did I spend my day you ask? I’ll tell you. First thing I did once I woke up was get dressed and drive on over to Ceder Mills to do odd jobs for my aunt, and by odd jobs I mean grunt work such as weeding and spreading bark dust. After a few hours of back breaking, hand numbing work I was given my check for $25 and drove straight home.

To rest and relax you ask? No, to change my clothes so that I could go directly over to babysitting these wonderful little children at my other aunt’s house. Arriving here at 5 o’clock I’ve already made the kids spaghetti, (which they hardly ate), and cleaned up the dishes while they watched an episode of Ninja Turtles that I had just seen while preparing the dinner.

At this point I don’t care where the kids are. They’re in different rooms doing only Jesus knows what. Don’t worry, they’re in good hands cause Jesus is keeping an eye on ’em for me.

“Jesus, how’re the kids doing?”

“They’re doing fine. It’s okay if they have wine right?”

“Sure why not. They aren’t my kids.”

“Don’t you think their dad would have a problem with them getting drunk?”

“Oh, you want to know why I’m babysitting tonight Jesus?”


“My uncle called me over and asked if I could come babysit on such short notice. Once I got here he congratulated me on getting accepted to OSU and then told me that my cousin Adam got a new job at Intel with a huge increase in income. To celebrate, Bob, (my uncle), is taking Adam and his dad Mike on a night on the town to get plastered.”

“I always liked that term ‘plastered.’ The only good thing about drinking is the terminology.”

“Hammered, loaded, sloshed, drunk, wasted, skunked, sh*t-faced, it’s all good.”

“You really shouldn’t use words like that you know. As you’ve no doubt heard, it makes me cry.”

“I thought that was just a myth.”

“Nope, I’m a sensitive guy. Not as sensitive as you but close.”

“I am not sensitive.”

“Don’t try to lie to me Topher, I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Hmm, and I do know myself pretty well too, so you must really be doing your homework. So I guess you know that I can do a backflip and everything?”

*Questionable look*

“Hey, I never said that I could land the backflip. Give me another week, you’ll see some real ninjitsu action.”

“Sure. You’re talking to a twelfth degree black belt, you just keep runnin’ your mouth like you’re the top dog.”

“You’re a twelfth degree black belt?”

“Of course. You didn’t know?”

“No. Why didn’t you tell me? Can you give me a few pointers then?”

“Sure. First pointer: Don’t suck.”

“Thank you Captain Obvious. …Hold on, I don’t suck!”

“Compared to a twelfth degree black belt you do.”

“Well of course, what do you expect out of me? I’m training myself here.”

“You haven’t been working out anymore though. Has it all become mental training now?”

“No, I just saw no point in trying to act like someone who I’ll never be. I’ll never be some strong, heroic guy who looks hot. I’ll just be the nice guy loser for the rest of my life.”

“But I thought your sai training was going rather well. What happened?”

“Like I said, I just realized that I was doing it all for nothing. There is no point to it all. No one cares.”

“Well I care.”

“Yes but you’re Jesus, you’re obligated to care. You’re like a parent or something of that nature. Thank you just the same though.”

“Hey…where’re the kids?”

“I don’t know, you were supposed to be watching them.”

“Oh right. Sorry, I got busy talking to you and forgot about the kids. I still find it unfair that you get all the profits from this job though.”

“Go find the kids and we’ll talk about you getting a raise. How does 50% sound?”

“Sounds good but 50% of $0 is still $0.”

“True, but the greatest reward is the good deed, right?”

“Bah, you’ve got me there. Alright, I’m off to find those little……”

“What was that?!”

“I said ‘angels!’ I’m off to go find those little angels!”

“Riiight…” *Reclines back in the computer chair*

“That’s right, you just sleep, don’t mind me none. I mean, it’s no like I died for your sins or anything.”

“You’re gonna hold that over my head forever aren’t you?”

“Of course not. What kind of person would that make me if I held something against you for this long?”

“A spiteful jerk.”

“Exactly, and we all know that I am neither spiteful nor a jerk. It comes with the territory to be good natured and loving.”

“Man have we been talking on for a long time.”

“I know. Usually by now you’d be tired from typing and just end our conversation with a good zing of some sort.”

“True. I guess I’m just in a more talkative mood at the moment. And by now I’ve completely forgotten why I was depressed in the first place.”

“It was because tonight’s Winter Formal and you’re stuck here babysitting the little ‘angels’ instead of being with the people that you’d really like to spend time with.”

“Damn. And I had all but hoped that no one would bring that up again.”

“Well, I’m gonna go play ping-pong with the kids.”

“They don’t have a ping-pong table.”


“Did you just say…?”

“No…it’s an illussion! *waves hands wildly* Ooooh, Satan must be playing a trick on yooooou. Gotta go. You keep fighting the dark one while I go watch the kids.” *Exit Jesus*

“Fight the dark one eh? Satan! You still here?!”

“What, you need something?”

“Jesus told me to continue fighting you.”

“Fine, but I pick the next challenge. No more Mario Brothers. I’m sick of losing.”

“That’s just because you suck.”

“Hey……shut up. New game, Dance Dance Revolution…but instead of a dance pad we use burning hot coals! Mwahahaha!”

“How about no Sparky?”

“Sparky?! I’ll teach you to call me names! *Pulls out swords…evil swords* Now you’ll meet your doom!”

“Darn, now where did I put my sais…?”

To Be Continued…


The Fight With Satan:

In other news, I am still reluctant to resume my training in any way shape or form. I see no point to it all. I am very much Don Quixote in everything I do regarding my desire to be someone that I’m not. I’ll never be strong, look really hot, or have a chance to save anyone’s life, so why do I bother to try? I’m no one special, just boring, depressing ol’ Chris Pranger. Regardless, I am about to fight head-on with Satan in some sort of battle royale, so back to the story that I began to tell on Saturday night.

* * * * *

When we last left off, Satan was pissed off at me for calling him “Sparky.” He pulled out his evil swords and challenged me to a duel of a somewhat serious magnitude. I hardly cared but looked around for my sai…

“Now where did I put those darn things…?”

“You shall meet you doom foolish mortal, your end it near, the time of reckoning is at hand…and other such cliché battle dialogue.”

“Hey now Satan, we can’t fight here, this isn’t even Topher’s house. Why not hold off killing him until next Saturday or something?”

“Fair enough. This shall give me a chance to think up better battle cries.”

And so 7 days later we find ourselves standing outside in my backyard, Satan with his two large evil swords and I with my two sai that Paymon lent to me for my quixotic training. Jesus decided to sit off to the side in a lawn chair to watch the fight while reading a magazine and eating lunch.

“Woo! Kick his tail Topher! …Now where is my drink…?”

“Wonderful. I’m about to fight the Dark Lord of Hell and you’re over there drinking Tang.”

“I feel just like an astronaut.”

“Astronauts don’t actually drink Tang, they’re rich. Rich people would never buy something as trashy as Tang, they’d buy wine or something.”

“But do they allow you to take wine up in the space shuttles?”

“They allow you to take monkeys and senior citizens up there; I doubt they’d have much of a reason to deny the crew wine. It’s not like they’re asking for hard liquor or anything.”

“Come on, are we gonna do this or what?”

“Don’t get your pitchfork all bent out of shape, we’ll get to it. First we need to lay down some ground rules. First off, I don’t have super powers, so you’re not allowed to use any special powers that you possess.”

“What about fire breathing?”

“No, I can’t breathe fire, therefore you can’t use it as a weapon.”

“Hey Topher, what about flying? Is that allowed?”

“I’d think not! We all know that only Jesus and you can fly, I can’t, therefore by your rules, you’re not allowed to fly at all during this deathmatch.”

“Darn. Hold one a second, if this is a deathmatch…how am I supposed to win?! I can still die, but you can’t be killed.”

“I can’t either. They tried killing me but it didn’t work. Heh heh, suckers…”

“…Anyhoo…like I was saying, where’s the fair fight if I can’t actually kill you?”

“Hmm…that is a pity… Well, we’ll just have to allow you to fly then.”

“Alright then…wait but that means…”

“RARG!” *Satan takes a cheap shot at Chris and cuts off his right arm*

“Oh that is so not cool.” *walks over to Jesus* “Little help here?”

*Between sips of Tang and bites of a Hot Pocket* “Abra kadabra, nothing up my sleeve, nothing up your sleeve. Nothing even on your arm. Hahaha!”

“Very funny. You wanna makie with the miracles, hmm?”

“Fine fine, PRESTO! There, your arm’s back as good as new.”

“He cut off my right arm, you gave me a left one.”

“Is there a problem?”

“I’m terribly deformed, what have you got to say to that?”

*While reading Cosmo maginzine* “God loves all his children.”


“Alright, come here.” *Grasps Chris’ ‘left’ arm* “Okay now how did this go…….Ziggity ziggity zoom zoom hazzah! Right as rain!” *Arm turns back into a right arm*

“Did you really have to say that corny little line?”

“Nope, I just like to take full advantage of all of life’s simple pleasures.”

“Well, can’t argue with that.” *Walks back over to Lucifer* “Okay Lucy, let’s do this thing.” *battle stance* “You’re move…”

“Oh ho, you shall meet your maker on this day.”

“Don’t worry Chris, I’ll tell my dad you said ‘hi’!”

“Thank you! Hey, did he get my Christmas card?!”

“Yeah, and I got the birthday card you sent me too! I still have no idea how Hallmark got ahold of all my baby pictures though!”

“I don’t either, but eh, what cha gonna do?”

“Are you ready for your comeuppance, you foolish child?!”

“Only if you’re ready to get your pointy tail handed to you in a sling.”

“Haha, how are you to compete against my mighty swords with such a small weapon as a sai?!”

“It’s not the size of the weapon, it’s how you handle it. Besides, I’d be willing to bet that you’re just over compensating for something.”

“What…wait…no…shut up! I am not over compensating for anything!”

“I’ve seen you in the shower, you’re over compensating.” *continues reading Cosmo* “And Cosmo agrees. Hmm…’fourty seven ways to please your man’… Why am I reading this trash?” *throws the magazine away*

“BLARG! You shall die for that one! You too Jesus! And you too Cosmo magazine!”

“I do believe that we’ve established that I cannot be killed, especially by someone like you.”

“Oh is that so?! You want some of Dis!?”

“Ooh, double meaning, well played.”

“I could take you out without even trying.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well we’ll just have to see as soon as Topher finishes beating you at your own game. Kick his ass Sea Bass!”

“Thank you but no ‘Dumb and Dumber’ lines are really necessary.”

“I tire of your childish games. I shall fight you both at once and prove to you how strong I really am!”

“Wow this writing is clichéd. Topher, you sure you couldn’t do any better?”

“At the moment…no. And that’s why we see:”

To be continued…

“Rabble rabble…”


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