Saturday, July 22, 2006

Prophetic Speech: Jonah

Rating: SL, TFPC, ES, GT, B

“This Is Not The Life I Ordered”

Let me tell you something: it is close and hot and stinky in the belly of a big fish. You might not think it would be hot, but it is. And loud. And so dark you cannot find your own ass with both hands. The other thing you cannot find is any spot to lay down and rest for a minute; there is some freaky shit in there. Man, a big fish will eat anything. In the words of Shakespeare, it is “most foul.”

Yes I know about Shakespeare, I am a prophet OK, get off me.

I am telling you I spent 3 days in the nasty-ass digestive tract of a fish and all you can think of to say is How do you know about Shakespeare, fuck you, shut up.

And getting puked up is no picnic either. You are in there with shit a starving dog wouldn’t touch and you are what gets rejected? Nice.

And by the way, your wardrobe does not survive the experience with any grace at all.

So now I am dragging my sleep-deprived, raggedy ass up in Ninevah and just try getting a room when you’re covered in whale vomit. I am so tired of hearing y’all go on about poor Mary had to give birth to Jesus in a stable ‘cause wouldn’t nobody give them a room, boo hoo.

Yes I know about Jesus, I am a prophet OK, get off me.

Enough with the chronology bullshit, what does the word co-eternal mean to you, fuck you, shut up.

So I’m all Yo, in forty days Ninevah shall be overthrown, and when I turn around they are playing dress-up with the livestock. Why would anyone put sackcloth on a pig? He’s already eating garbage and sleeping in shit, sackcloth and ashes is an upgrade, dumbass.

I did not tell you to put clothes on the barnyard animals.

Let me tell you something: there is nothing a big fish won’t eat and there is nothing so stupid that some asshole somewhere won’t think it sounds like a good idea. Sackcloth. On a pig.

Now after all this shit, what do you think God does?


Excuse me? What did I come here for? We could not have sent a note?

So now I am sleep-deprived, homeless, still covered in whale vomit, and a guy who puts sackcloth on a pig thinks I’m a lunatic.

Why do I let You talk me into this shit?

Yes I know You’re God, I am a prophet OK, get off me.

Y’all think this is funny? Yeah, when it happens to somebody else, fuck you, shut up.

I’m going back to Puke Beach, pick up some driftwood, build me a little lean-to, and sit my tired ass down and not move. God can do whatever God wants, I did not ask to come here, bunch of shit-crazy people, forty days, forty days and oh never mind, hahahahahahaha, meanwhile I’m over here with fish juice in my sinuses and my ass flapping in the breeze, another jam-packed day of wall-to-wall fun, brought to you by God Almighty, the Deity who put a foreskin on the penis just to make you cut it off.
Oooo, too bad, Jonah, that was not the prophecy we were looking for, but we have some lovely parting gifts for you, what do we have for Jonah, Bob? It’s a castor-oil plant! Yes, soon you’ll be luxuriating under your very own shade provided by this lovely little tree, and if you’re feeling a bit bloated, it will take care of that for you too! Castor oil, the gift that keeps on giving.

OK, that at least was a good idea. The people here may be ignorant as dirt—Shakespeare again, don’t start, nnn-NNN—but the animals at least are not my problem. Everything on four legs has the sense not to eat a castor-oil plant.

Yes I know a worm has no legs, I’m a prophet OK, and sometimes I cannot think of every fucking thing, so get off me. Fuck you, shut up.

I’m going to feed this worm to a big fish and watch the whale shit fly, that’s what I’m going to do.


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