Doing Lines with Jesus' Son
Jack, the Son of the Son of God, was ready to go home.
After witnessing the ugliest divorce in the history of the infinite world, I was right there with him.
We were still at the house where his Dad, Jesus, had hosted Christmas Eve dinner. It was a little past midnight on Christmas morning. We'd finished our pie, and Jack had packed some slightly burnt ham and leftover crescent rolls into a disposable plastic container. We put our coats on, and Jack shouted down the basement stairwell.
"Dad, we're leaving!"
"Hang on, boys!" Jesus called back, stumbling up the stairs. "I've got to give you your present!"
Shit, that's what I forgot, I thought.
Jesus reached the top and leaned on the doorway. His eyes were red, which I would have thought was from crying, but for the slight smell of skunk wafting up from the basement and the goofy grin stretched across Jesus' face.
Was Jesus...high?
Well, he had been talking alone with Jack for a couple hours. I wasn't sure anyone had ever done that and not gotten baked.
"Boys, you're going to love it," Jesus giggled, grabbing his trench coat, scarf and gloves.
"I'm really sorry, Jesus," I said. "I was so excited to meet you, I didn't get you anything. You should be the one getting presents. It's your birthday, after all!"
"Is that how birthdays are supposed to work?" Jesus laughed. "I guess I've been doing it backwards all these years. C'mon, it's out front!"
We stood out in the snowy driveway, and Jesus pointed down the street.
"Here it comes!" Jesus said with delight.
There was a strange high pitched sound and a red light in the sky. The light grew brighter, the sound grew deeper and I realized it was the doppler effect on jingling bells. The light was blinding as it got really close, and I had to shield my eyes. I heard a whoosh as the bells came to a stop in front of us.
"Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!"
It was Santa Claus! The real Santa Claus!
I don't have to describe him in detail. You know exactly what he looks like, right off a Coca-Cola bottle. He was in a large red sleigh pulled by nine reindeer, with a ginormous brown bag hanging off the back. The real reindeer looked nothing like the stop-motion puppets—they were bigger, hairier and smellier—but other than that, it was everything I ever imagined.
"Ho ho ho!" Santa laughed. "Did someone call for a ride?"
"No way!" I gasped. "Really?"
"Ho ho ho! Hop on in!"
"Oh my God!" I exclaimed, turning to Jack's Dad. "Thank you, Jesus!"
The high beam from Rudolph's nose cut back and forth through the neighborhood as we climbed into the sleigh.
"Ho ho ho! You joining us, Jeez?"
"Wouldn't miss it to save the world, Kris!"
The setup was very similar to the flying saucer I had been in, with a long bench for the passengers and a swivel chair in front of a control board for Santa. Jesus and I sat on either side of Jack. Santa called out the names of each reindeer, then gently whipped the reins as he said, "Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!"
The sleigh lurched, and we were off!!!
I felt like a kid again. It was awesome! As we gained altitude, the city of Chicago glistened beneath us. We could feel the ups and downs and turns, but it was a smooth ride, no turbulence.
I had so many questions.
"Where are the elves?" I asked Jack.
"Back in Christmastown," Jack explained, "but they're here in spirit. Santa is the idol of the elves, you see. Right now they're all standing around a giant Christmas tree at the North Pole, singing in harmonious joy, and that song gets sent over the Network and embodies itself as Saint Nick. The elves themselves are just daemons emerging from good little boys and girls all snug in their beds, dreaming of dancing sugar plums. It's all just technology."
"What's a sugar plum?" I asked.
"No idea!" laughed Jack.
As we leveled off, Santa pushed a button. Two robot hands wearing black mittens extended from the front of the sleigh and grabbed the reins. Santa pulled a lever, and a transparent dome closed over us. I felt a blast of hot air as the heater kicked in. With one final button press, a small table with four steaming mugs came up through the floor. Santa swiveled to face us.
"Ho ho ho! Hot chocolate, anyone?"
I took a sip of the richest, creamiest hot cocoa I'd ever tasted, and I nearly had an orgasm right there.
"Delicious!" I moaned.
"Thanks! It's my wife's recipe! Ho ho ho!"
"Are we going to deliver presents?" I asked.
"Ho ho ho! No!" Santa laughed. "Do you know what a pain in the ass that would be?"
"It's up to the parents to buy the presents," Jack explained. "Everyone knows that. That's why the presents kids get don't match up with what they deserve, and rich little assholes get all the best while the poor kids get squat."
"It's just the way of the world," Jesus shrugged, "nothing we can do about it."
"So what's in the bag?" I asked.
"Christmas dust!" Jack cheerfully exclaimed.
"Is that, like, some kind of magic powder or something?" I asked.
"Not magic, just pharmaceutical grade!" Santa laughed. "Ho ho ho!"
"Santa's bag is filled with drugs?" I asked.
"It's the best drug, dude!" Jack said. "Main effects are eyes full of wonder, a heart full of joy, gratitude for your loved ones and a desire to help the less fortunate!"
"Don't forget making reindeer fly! Ho ho ho!" Santa laughed.
Jack continued, "Santa travels everywhere in the globe tonight, sprinkling it down upon all the globers. He's like a crop duster, see, except the crop is peace on earth and good will toward men!"
"Ho ho ho! It's even better straight!" Santa laughed, holding up a rolled-up strip of wrapping paper. "Wanna do a line?"
And that, children, is why Santa has a nose like a cherry.
I had never done any drugs that go up the nose before, and honestly never would. But seeing as how both Jesus and Santa Claus were bent over the table with their wrapping-paper straws, I decided I'd make an exception for just this one drug.
"Oh my God this feels great!" I sighed after a couple lines, concentrated Spirit of Christmas coursing through my soul. "We need to do this every night!"
"Nah, you'd build up a tolerance," Jack said. "That's why Christmas only comes once a year!"
We traveled everywhere in the globe, leaving contrails of Christmas dust in our wake. From the neon cities of the East, to permanently quaint villages in the Alps, over Australian aboriginals and war-torn corners of Africa, nomads in deserts and tribes in jungles, even the apocalyptic hellscape of California. Some places had Christmas decorations, some places didn't, but that didn't matter, Santa dusted them all.
He did a few loop-de-loops that felt like a roller coaster, making us scream and laugh. Then, for the grand finale, he took us on a quick circle around the real North Pole. We didn't get to land, but the city skyline was dominated by a Christmas tree that had to be taller than the Sears Tower, sparkling with billions of twinkling lights. The star on the top was ethereal, made of pure white light. The view was breathtaking.
The time came to head home, as always it must, and Santa pointed the sleigh back to Chicago. The dome and table retracted as we descended, and Santa took the reins. But then we kept going past the city, out toward the darkness of the outer burbs.
"I think you missed our stop!" I shouted over the rush of the wind.
"No, we're going the right direction!" Jesus said. "Just hang on tight!"
We came to a landing on a snow-covered road lined with evergreens. We were in front of a giant log lodge—it appeared to be a hotel or something. It was trimmed with white Christmas lights, red velvet ribbons and garlands of real pine boughs.
"Dad, what's going on?" Jack asked, cautiously smiling as we exited the sleigh.
"Ho ho ho! Got it from here, Jeez?" Santa asked.
"Sure thing, Kris!" Jesus said. "Thanks again! Drive safe!"
Santa shook the reins, and the sleigh took off.
"Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas to all! And to all a good night!"
Santa flew out of sight.
Jack and I looked to Jesus for an explanation.
"Welcome home, boys!" Jesus said.
Jack's expression fell only slightly.
"Dad, no—"
"Listen here Son," Jesus said, placing a hand on Jack's shoulder. "You're a good kid. You never ask for anything, and you keep yourself out of trouble. Mostly. I know it hasn't always been easy for you the past twenty centuries. Being my Son comes with lots of disadvantages. So I think it's only fair you get to enjoy some of the advantages as well. You deserve this."
Before Jack could protest further, Jesus placed a set of keys in Jack's hand and wrapped his own hands around Jack's fist.
"The previous owner thought he owed me a huge favor," Jesus continued, "and I have to admit, he was just enough of an asshole that I didn't turn him down. The deed is already in your name. No take-backs. Now please, go check it out."
Jack walked to the front door, looking at the keys in his hand. I could see the gears turning in his head. He opened the door and entered. Jesus and I followed.
Past a dark lounge, there was a long hallway with real hardwood walls and closed doors. We walked along it until we came to a balcony. I gasped when I saw what it overlooked.
A Grand Hall stretched down three more stories below us, while a vaulted log ceiling reached above us. On three sides were wrap-around balconies on each level, looking down over the main floor. The lodge must have been cut into the side of a hill, because the wall across from us was floor-to-ceiling windows, with a large stone hearth in the center and a stone chimney stretching to the roof. Just off to our side was the top of a country-style Christmas tree that stretched down to the lowest level.
"Eat your heart out, L.L. Bean!" I gasped.
Jack had a look of childlike wonder plastered across his face, and his mouth was agape with joy. In all the months I'd known him, I'd never seen him look like that. I got the sense it was the first time he'd ever looked like that.
"I don't..." Jack whispered, trailing off into speechlessness.
"There's a staircase right over there," Jesus said with a smile. "Why don't you run downstairs and check out the main floor?"
Jack bolted for the stairs. I moved to follow, but Jesus stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. And when Jesus does that, you turn to hear what Jesus has to say.
"You're going to take good care of my Son, yes?" Jesus asked.
"Yes, sir, Jesus," I nodded. "Jack means a lot to me."
"You mean a lot to him, too, Son," Jesus said. "And a lot to me as well."
"Dude the tv is HUGE!" Jack yelled from downstairs, looking at whatever was directly beneath us. He ran toward it, and out of our sight.
"Let me give you some advice," Jesus said.
I never in my life listened so intently.
"Everyone thinks I expect them to love everybody, just because I love everybody," Jesus said. "But I am literally the only being in all the world that can love everybody—that's my thing. Anyone else who tries to love everybody usually ends up loving nobody. What people don't realize is, if even just once you truly, sincerely love someone—as if their soul were your own—that in itself is a blessing upon the world. It really only takes one. Do you understand?"
I nodded.
"Dude, John, you have to come see this!" Jack shouted from one of the lower levels.
The next thing I knew, Jesus gave me a hug.
"Merry Christmas, Jack," he said, calling me by my real name.
"Happy Birthday, Jesus," I said, hugging him back, a tear in my eye.
I felt perfectly and completely loved.
"I'd better get going," Jesus said later, as Jack and I joined him out front to say goodbye. "I need to get that house tidied up to get my deposit back. Those cleaning fees will crucify you!"
"Hey, Dad," Jack said. "Do you think we could do next year at the North Pole? I promised John we could check it out."
"Oh, well, I'm sorry, Son, but I don't think that's going to work out," Jesus said. "Your friend already promised his mom it was her turn to host, didn't you?"
"I, um, yeah, I guess so..." I said.
How in all the heavens was I going to explain this to my mother?
Jesus laughed.
"Alright, back to work," Jesus said. "No rest for the willing. Merry Christmas, boys!"
He stretched out his arms, palms up, as if leading a collective prayer. A white light shone down from the sky, and he began to ascend. Hovering in the air with his long trench coat and red scarf draped over his neck, he looked at least a little bit like the pictures from my children's Bible. Then the light disappeared, and he was gone.
Standing in the cold night, Jack looked at me with the sincerest of smiles.
I scrunched up my nose.
"The apartment is closer to my office," I said, as if our choice of residence was still up for debate.
For a moment Jack looked worried—just long enough for me to know I got him.
"I'm kidding!" I laughed. "Merry Christmas, dude!"
"Merry Christmas, dude!" Jack laughed back.
Merry Christmas to all dudes, everywhere!
Next: Rolling with Jesus' Son
Doing Drugs with Jesus’ Son is always free.