JONAH WINTER

The New Improved Jesus

Off Off Off Off Broadway

God

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE NEW IMPROVED JESUS

 

Jesus Christ walked out the door.

He stood on the porch of the Marshal’s Office

and surveyed the street with His beady blue eyes.

It was empty.

 

A burly man approached.

Are you Jesus? he asked.

Supposin’ I am? Jesus answered,

characteristically, with a question.

 

The burly man collapsed into endless space –

a sort of black hole.

Zero volume, infinite mass, Jesus said

into a little portable tape recorder.

 

Then Jesus began His walk down Fremont Street.

It was too quiet.

Jesus’s hands swung by His side, ready now

for the quick draw.

 

From His black Stetson hat to His lizard skin boots

Jesus Christ was 100% man.

He had a huge, sweeping moustache.

He could split a card in half with one bullet.

 

Mornin’ Jesus, a voice said.

Jesus let His eyes alone move in the direction of the voice.

It was Doc Holliday.

He was packin’ a piece.

 

Jesus shook His head no.

Holliday’s smile faded.

Jesus, well, He just kept on walkin

down the long, empty street.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

OFF OFF OFF OFF BROADWAY

 

Barbara Streisand and Jesus Christ are having coffee.

Jesus is finishing a long story:

…so when I got home –

everyone was sleeping! – ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

 

Barbara smiles and signals the waiter for the check.

Jesus gets up to go to the Men’s room.

The Idea of Beauty comes over and sits down

in Jesus’s chair.

 

Howdy ma’am says the Idea of Beauty.

I’m the Idea of Beauty.

Any questions you’d like to ask me

fore I lose my corporeal manifestations?

 

Jesus returns,

tucking His shirt in.

Can I help you, pardner, Jesus drawls

eyeing the Idea of Beauty suspiciously.

 

Help me with what?

says the Idea of Beauty, snickering.

Well let’s see says Jesus, stroking His beard,

for starters, you could get the hell out of my seat.

 

Suddenly a stage is lit up.

There’s Barbara, in sequined evening dress,

her mouth wide open,

but no sound coming out.

 

God flips shut the Venetian blinds,

returns to his desk,

pushes the play button on a miniature tape recorder

and begins his dictation:

 

Sign Jesus up for some golf lessons.

End all pestilence, wars, suffering, etc.

Go to bed earlier.

Play solitaire less.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

GOD

 

 

God walks into a room

in which a woman is buying a set of encyclopedias.

Just as she’s about to sign a check for $3,000,

God clears his throat, conspicuously.

 

Later, over linguine with white clam sauce,

God and the woman have a good laugh.

That was close! God says.

Don’t I know it! says the woman.   Thanks!