INT. God’s office, 5 BC:
God sits at a large oak desk in his brightly lit office. Behind him is a lovely panoramic view of downtown heaven, seventh level. Or maybe it’s the fourth or fifth. Who the hell cares? It’s a nice view — it’s fucking heaven.
God speaks on the phone.
God: Look, Moses, I’m sorry, you’re just not that marketable. I mean, Noah had an ark, Adam and Eve were nudists, and even David at least had the slingshot thing. You had a stick, Moses. A stick. How am I supposed sell that to the public? Just face it: you’ll never be a franchise player.
Jesus walks into the office. He carries with him a large dry-erase board and easel.
God: Look, I gotta go. Make an appointment with Gabriel to come in and see me . . . Oh, would you rather speak to my bush again? I didn’t think so.
God slams down the phone.
God: The nerve of some . . .
Jesus sets up his board on the easel.
Jesus: Dad, check it. You know how I’m planning to go to Earth soon and, you know, do stuff?
God: Yes, son, we’ve been planning this for a while. What is it? Daddy’s busy.
Jesus: All right, all right. I have some ideas about how to handle that. I’m talking massive expansion of the business.
God: I’m listening.
Jesus quickly doodles a Nativity scene sketch.
Jesus: You know what makes all great stories great? Origin story, dude! Booyah!
God: What’s with the baby?
Jesus: That’s me, Pop. Instead of just sending me down there like this and freaking everybody out, I thought I would actually be born there.
God: And this would happen how?
Jesus: You didn’t even read the email I sent did you? How many times does Peter have to show you how to open that up?
God: It’s this damn Mac that Satan sent me for my birthday. I can’t seem to get the hang of it.
Jesus: You’re so old. But check this. People will eat this shit up. I mean, the revenue we’ll generate from selling replica Nativity scenes alone will keep us in the black for years.
God: I like it. Run it past HR and submit a budget plan.
Jesus: I ain’t done there, big guy. Peep this shit. Okay. So you know how the whole Judaism thing is really raking in a lot of dough for us?
God: It’s our second biggest stream of revenue behind our very lucrative wicker furniture business.
Jesus: Right, but I’m looking to the future. We need expansion, and I have just the ticket. We create a whole new religion. Bam!
God: Oh, snap.
Jesus: I know, right?! We’ll own domain over both religions and our profits will be totally sick. I’ll gather up a posse on Earth and spread the word from there. People will go gaga over this stuff.
God: But any good religion needs a good logo, son. It’s the direct path to true branding.
Jesus: Gotcha covered, my man.
Jesus draws a cross on the board.
Jesus: Two-step plan. After a while, when I’ve laid the foundation of our new endeavour, I’ll need to make my graceful and memorable exit. I think I should totally die on one of these.
God: Is that some sort of arrow or spear?
Jesus: No, man — it’s a cross. It’s the cool new thing. You get nailed to it and left to die in the hot sun.
God: Jesus Christ! That sounds awful.
Jesus: Totally worth it, Daddy-O. Like I said, two-step plan. First I die on this thing. It becomes our logo, and for years to come we sell the hell out of cross necklaces, and then later on, the tattoo business will pay us off in spades. And then comes step two: three days after I die, I’ll totally come back to life and freak the piss out of everyone and ascend back here.
God: So you’ll retcon your whole death story?
Jesus: Well, yeah, but here’s the best part. Birth and resurrection after death: two special events and — wait for it — two brand new holidays! Stores will sell mega hella Jesus swag until the end of time. You may applaud now.
God: I’m so proud of you, son. You’ll make Daddy billions. Now go convert me some customers.
Jesus and God embrace for a short while. But it’s completely not homo because they give each other a pat on the back before releasing.
Jesus collects his board and easel and exits the room. God sits as the phone on his desk beeps. God presses a button.
Gabriel comes on over the speaker phone.
Gabriel: God, your vice-president of eastern affairs is here to see you.
God: Okay. Just tell him not to call me —
Muhammad bursts into the office like he owns the place.
Muhammad: Allah! Just the man I need to see.
God sighs.
God: Just God will do, thanks. How can I help you, Muhammad?
Muhammad: Oh Allah, you kidder. Anyway. What would you say if I told you I’ve found a way to spread our reach into the eastern hemisphere?
God: I’m listening.
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