My Easter Logue

The sickly, purplish light of dawn lurched into the crypt and fell upon the putrid, distended corpse of Jesus H. Christ. In his ears, muffled by hair matted with old and crusty blood, he heard the rustling of all manner of horrific carrion with mechanical mouths clamouring for the flesh of the Divine Son. Beelzebub's hoards swarmed above, tickling with their sticky little feet…purposefully penetrating orifices with plans to lay their eggs. Jesus' bones shuddered as he imagined their squirming offspring gnawing away at his Holy flesh until his skeleton was lain bare like discarded dinner scraps.

And as one of Beelzebub's brood crept across the surface of his slightly lifted eyelid, he slowly realized the unimaginable. He found himself alive, but he was not seated at the right hand of the Father! Heaven's promise unfulfilled, he cried (as he was wont to do):

"FATHER, HAST THOU FORSAKEN ME… AGAIN?"

But no Heavenly answer came. No guidance from above warmed his cold heart, clogged with congealed blood.

He swatted the fly away with his perforated hand and poked at his bloated face. His eyes opened wide and he shook with the angst of betrayal. His tongue probed his mouth, scraping the debris of Golgatha from his teeth. His mouth tasted of blood and vinegar. His eyes bulged as he lunged forward and tossed aside his gauzy shroud. He stood upright, his movements accompanied by rubbery, flatulent noises.

As he crept out of the cursed tomb, he heard a gaggle of women approaching, and he instantly recognized his mother's stern and mournful voice. How he loved her! She musn't find him this way, a walking dead atrocity. Better if she thought he was truly called home by his Heavenly Father, better she believe anything than the hideous truth!

And as he wandered out among the rocks and as the sun ripened his decaying body, he lamented this grisly twist of fate and cursed his Father. Rocks and sand penetrated the wounds in his feet and with each step, a base hunger developed in the abysmal pit of his stomach. It was an unfamiliar hunger to the Nazarene…but as the Golgatha sun beat down on him, this persistent, gnawing hunger reached a diabolical clarity. And with absurd delight, he recognized it.

The undead Christ craved the taste of revenge. He was hungry for Judas Iscariot's living brain.

Meanwhile, in the Nazarene's tomb, Mary cried out - first that perverts or cannibals had stolen her son's body. Then, as she spotted footprints leading away from the tomb she and her cohorts realized the Truth. That her son had miraculously risen from the dead! She rushed away, and told it on the mountain.

Next:

The Hunt for the 12 Apostles