Now it was five in the morning and I was screaming and ranting in ecstasy as I was under the impression that the rapture had occurred.
As I danced and listened to the loud music I heard something somewhere that I absolutely loved--JAZZ! Some one was playing some severely wicked jazz on a trumpet outside. I instantly applied force and smashed my stereo and then ran outside thinking that Wynton Marsalis had been left
behind. Boy was I happy. I was shocked when I got out there and some fellow with some really messed up clothes (straight off the set of Jesus Christ Superstar) jammin' on his trumpet. I had to be impressed.
"Yo, wuddup G" I said in African-American.
"Oh no'in much, just playing the trumpet call to herald the coming of Jesus."
A mad man. "You know I have a piano in here. Want to jam?" He came into my house and before long we were playing a tune he taught me, "Heaven on my mind." Now his trumpet was sounding so smooth it amazed me. Somehow it seemed that anyone who was on sea-level should be able to hear it. It must have been this eerie effect that made my piano also sound like every one should be able to hear. We jammed for almost an hour and then I made small talk with him while preparing coffee for us both.
"What's your name men?" "Gabriel, but some call me Able Gable. Arf, arf, arf, arf..." He sure had a hilarious way of laughing, the way his shoulders convulsed and his back drooped. I was going to enjoy hanging out with this fellow. "How long have you been playin' that horn, man?"
"Oh not long at all. Let me see, it was sometime before the French Revolution so it must have been less than two hundred years ago."
Son of a bitch. I laughed. "So what brings you to this part of town. I've never seen you around here and you certainly have been playing in no clubs cos we'd have heard the word."
"Well I do play in a club, David's Jazz spot owned by David Ben-Jesse. He's
a cool cat too. Arf, arf, arf, arf. David can play some keys, you and him would have a ball if you got together cos he has some really weird jazz chords. And then you GOT to meet Jesus. Now that kid can play some drums, son. You haven't heard the word? Well he'll be here any second now. That's why I'm here, to herald his coming."
Before I could say "Huh?" there was the sound of a thousand Harley Davidsons outside my house. I was shocked. Don't tell me a bunch of "dudes and dudettes" had got lost on the way to the mountain and missed the rapture! Argh! I'd be pissed! Gabe jumped up excitedly shouting "He's here! He's here!"
Who?
I opened up the front door to see at least ten thousand upon ten thousand Harley Davidson-riding men with such big exhaust pipes flaming fire that one would think this was from a Star-Trek movie. They sang as unto a choir "Although we've come, to the end of the road.."
"What the hell do you think you're doing on my lawn? Who do you think you
are?" I had never been one to be scared to confront others and this certainly was no exception. The biggest of them all, a tall muscular Caucasian with JC written on the side of his motorbike got off from his bike and smiled at me. "Cool it man. Gabe, you called?"
Cool it man? Where was he from?
"Yeah" Gabe responded to him. "The big cheese wanted me to summon you to earth to take all your people home."
"Why wasn't I told about this, Gabe?" the JC said.
"Well, he said something about not even you knowing the day or time of your arrival."
"And you're sure no one knows?"
"Er, I don't think so."
"So where's everyone?" the man said looking around the streets.
"They're all gone to the mountain" I said, "And who the hell are you?"
"And who do you sayesth that I am?" He said.
"Huh?" I replied.
"Andst who does thoust thinkest that I am" he said.
"?" I gave Gabe the blank stare.
"Ishit misfit raman pakulazooko" Gabe said to me in some unknown language.
"Jesus Christ?" I said.
The fellow smiled and said: "Yup! That's me. Jesus the Christ. The ol'
Messiah. The kingster of all kingsters.... making copies.."
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