By Michael Girardin
“Look at this guy!” Roger thought.” Flying down Granville, middle of the day, gotta be at least 40, middle of the road, traffic everywhere , on a skateboard! A fucking skateboard. Moron. I bet he combs his beard in the mirror and does action poses. I hope somebody hits him. Not real bad, just graze him, maybe break his skateboard. Make him cry. What’s the Cop doing? Nothing. Of course. What’s wrong with him? Stop this toolbox before he kills someone. Or himself. Come on, do something, anything, you’re a cop, hit him with your nightstick, dipshit.
Look at them. The robots. Glued to their phones. Nothing. Nobody sees or cares if it’s not on a screen. Jesus Christ could come back, riding Haley's comet, step down off the cross and make me a grilled cheese sandwich and they wouldn’t say boo. Yo! Pinhead! Pound that phone up your ass! Yeah. I’m talking to you. What are you going to do about it? That’s what I thought, move it along numbnuts. Oh, great, look at this guy. What, he’s gonna sit on the bench here? Beside me?? Fuck off goldilocks, my bench.”
Roger’s mind wandered while he waited for the bus. He was a man without a lawn to tell people to get off of and it had hardened his heart in his later years.
But that didn’t matter. It was time to testify.
Roger had the bench to himself, and there was a nice little crowd, waiting for their prospective buses. Seventy, but still nimble, he hopped up on the bench and began at full blast, as usual. A little man with a very big mouth.
“LISTEN UP PEOPLE AND LISTEN GOOD! UNDERSTAND THE TIME FOR LISTENNG IS DRAWING TO A CLOSE AND SOON IT WILL BE TOO LATE! PULL YOUR NOSES OUT OF YOUR PHONES AND YOUR HEADS OUT OF YOUR BEHINDS. IF YOU PAY ATTENTION AND ONLY IF YOU DO, THERES IS STILL A SMALL CHANCE FOR YOU TO AVOID HELLFIRE AND DEMON ABUSE. FIRST OF ALL, BEFORE I START LET ME JUST MAKE ONE THING CLEAR: JESUS WAS NOT A HIPSTER! EVEN THOUGH HE HAD A BEARD AND SANDALS! HE DID NOT WALK OVER A SEA OF IRONY. HE HAD NO NEED FOR KOMBUCHA OR SMOOTHIES. HE DIDN’T HAVE TIME FOR THOSE THINGS. HE WAS TOO BUSY SAVING THE WORLD AND HELPING BLIND MEN SEE. PLUS, JESUS HAD A JOB. A REAL JOB. JESUS WAS A CARPENTER, A WOODWORKER, A TIMBER TECHNICIAN. HE DIDN’T MAKE A LIVING PRESSING BUTTONS, COUNTING WIDGETS IN THE SKY. IT WAS REAL WORK. HARD WORK, MAN’S WORK”. By this time several people at the bus stop had turned around and were staring at Roger, most with clear expressions of loathing, a couple with stunned looks on their faces. They’d seen this in the movies but never in real life, on a real street corner. One young man with a backpack said in a clear resonant voice, "Please, can someone make him stop?” Roger was heating up.
“MOST OF YOU PROBABLY HAVEN'T HEARD OF THAT. HARD WORK. LOOK IT UP ON YOUR GOOGLER. ONE TIME, WHEN HE WAS WORKING JESUS HIT HIS THUMB WITH A HAMMER. KNOW WHAT HE SAID WHEN THAT HAPPENED? HE SAID, 'JESUS CHRIST MY GODAMNED THUMB!' JESUS DIDN’T HAVE TIME FOR FANCY TALK. JESUS TOLD IT LIKE IT IS AND LIKE IT WAS.” At this point the backpack guy had had enough and said, “Christ, can’t somebody stop this guy?" A murmur of agreement flowed through the small crowd. Emboldened the kid barked out, “Hey buddy, Jesus called, said to tell you the bus to Crazytown doesn’t run on Mondays.” The crowd tittered its approval.
Fuel meet fire. Roger was luxuriously furious. The way he liked it.
“AGAINST ALL REASON AND LOGIC JESUS LOVES YOU. FOR ME THE JURY IS STILL OUT. I MEAN, LOOK AT YOU. CONDEMNED AND ON YOUR WAY TO BEING ROASTED LIKE A SUCKLING PIG. BUT ITS NOT TOO LATE! IT’S NOT TOO LATE! IT'S NOT TOO LATE TO SAVE YOURSELF! PLEASE LISTEN! PLEASE. YOU HAVE TO DO ONE THING AND ONE THING ONLY! ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS…” Roger stopped, paused, and looked to the left, squinting.
His tone changed, “BUT I'M SORRY! MY BUS IS HERE ! I'LL LEAVE YOU WITH THIS: WHEN YOU'RE ROASTING IN HELL, DON’T FORGET, IT'S ONLY FOREVER!”
He leapt off the bench like an angry Leprechaun on a mission, elbowed his way to the front of the line, scampered onto the crowded bus and shamed a pimply teenager out of the seat he was occupying in the senior/ handicapped section. He stared him down like Moses stared down the Red Sea.
Once the bus started rolling, settled into his rightful seat, he yelled out, even louder,” ARE YOU SAVED? HAVE YOU HEARD?” Instantly the bus driver shot back, “Hey don’t think I don’t remember you, pal!. We are not going to go through this again! Zip it or beat it! “
Roger zipped it and settled into the rhythm of the ride.
For the first time today, Roger had a smile on his face.
Michael Girardin is a veteran actor living in Canada.
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