Tiny particles of dust hang in the dim light of the bar, highlighted by the slight musty odor. The New Year’s Eve decorations occupy the walls, just in time for Halloween.
Jesus sighs. “Isn’t there anything else on?”
The mop of long black hair smothering the forearms of a man head-down on the bar snorts. “No, all the other channels are preempted during a Dingus Heist.” He pauses. “Well, there is the Jesus Channel.”
“Myself Almighty! Let’s not watch that.”
“Yeah, it’s just President Dingus saluting the American flag against a backdrop of drone strikes while someone reads Bible verses.”
Jesus sighs again and quietly spins his glass on that familiar worn spot in the formica of the bartop, ground smooth by generations of afternoon drinkers. He just as quietly turns the water into Gin and Tonic. On the big screen behind the beefy, silent bartender and his forearm tats a fat man in a skin-tight black catsuit and one of those tiny superhero masks that’s supposed to hide your identity but doesn’t is being lowered down a shaft on a cable.
An announcer is green-screened over the action, hyperactive as a caffeinated puppy on Christmas morning. “This is it folks, our President Big Dingus brings us his latest heist. He’s going to steal the world’s biggest Bitcoin! What do you think, Press Secretary Christ Barbie?”
The camera swings to a bodacious bosom, barely contained in a sparkly halter top and overlaid with a garish golden crucifix with blinking LED jewels. “He’s doing it for America, he’s doing it for Freedom! And he’s doing it because he’s our President Big Dingus and he can!” She throws in an enthusiastic jiggle for emphasis.
Saint Mark mumbles from the bar, finger in the air. “Those titties are doing the Lord’s work.”
“Don’t talk about my dad like that.”
“Just sayin’.”
On the TV the cable continues to lower President Big Dingus towards what appears to be a rather gigantic gold Bitcoin coin sitting on a stand inside what appears to be some kind of large glass cage.
“No one cares about actual Jesus anymore. How can you watch this?”
“How can you not?”
Suspended over the glass cage the fat man produces some kind of tool from his belt and proceeds to cut a large hole in the glass. “He’s got the laser torch!” titters the announcer. “What next?”
“What is that dope going to do with a big, fake gold Bitcoin?”
“Probably put it on a big, fake gold chain around his neck?”
“But why’s he so important? I’m Jesus, the Savior. Can’t you see I’m exasperated here? Remember when I threw the moneychangers out of the Temple?”
“You threw an ATM out of a mini-mart.”
“No, I’m talking about the other time.”
Big Dingus drops his laser cutter into the hole he’s made in the glass cage and pulls out something that looks like a RonCo Pocket Fisherman. The TV hosts are ecstatic. “He’s going for the big Bitcoin! The markets are going mad!”
Just then Dingus stops and grasps about his belt, pulling out a gold phone. The closed captioning reads, “Yeah? You’re locked in the bathroom, honey?” He puts a hand to his face. “And you’re on the airplane?” He starts rubbing his face. “Yeah, I love you more than anything babydoll. And yes, the bathroom is where she keeps the Chanel #5. Look, I’m a little busy right now. Can’t you call someone else?”
Dingus stops and stares at his phone. “Hold on, I’ve got another call.” With his other hand he reaches back into his pants and pulls out another gold phone. “What is it this time?” He carefully puts the first phone down and rubs his face. Sweat is dripping off his forehead. “Well, tell Barron to put it in the microwave. He’s a big boy now.” Through the TV a high-pitched screeching can be heard coming from the phone, as if someone’s clamped an an angry eastern European ferret’s nose in a vice grip. He pulls the phone away from his ear with a grimace. “No! It’s nobody important on the other line. Forget it.” The other phone rings again. He picks it up.
“No, I didn’t hang up on you, darling. Did you try banging on the door?” More screeching from the other phone. He turns his head towards that one. “NO! Are you kidding? It’s not her.” More screeching. “What do you mean, you’re watching me on TV?”
The press secretary and her twins are back on the screen and she laughs nervously. “Ha ha! Can you believe this, loyal Americans at home? The President is not only about to steal The World’s Biggest Bitcoin, but he’s also carrying out a difficult international negotiation at the same time!”
Back in the bar Jesus speaks up, holding up a hand like he’s holding a phone. “Wait Mark. You mean he’s talking to his…”
The black mop on the bar answers, “…wife…”
“On one phone,” Jesus holds up his other hand. “And he’s talking to his mistress on…”
A snort from the bar. “Yep, the other phone.”
“Holy me. Fuck me twice in a bagel slicer. See what I mean? I just can’t compete with this show.”
