Pierce My Extremities At The End Of ‘Holey’ Week? Good One!

By Jesus of Nazareth

Dudes, you got me. That has got to be one of the best practical jokes in history. I’m not above admitting when I’ve been positively owned. Driving spikes through my appendages just so you could call these several days ‘Holey’ Week? Nailed. Just nailed it. Kudos.

There I was, minding everybody else’s business, when I get arrested, tried, tortured, and crucified like a common criminal. In itself, that would have been a hell of a nasty – and, might I add, brilliant – prank to play on a guy who styles himself the exact opposite. But no, you went one better: you timed the event to coincide with a period so aptly named that in retrospect, I should have seen it coming long before. I might even have said something to that effect, but it was too perfect to believe, so I dismissed it. Dudes: that was epic.

The masterstroke, though, has got to be the setup with Judas. The kiss to identify me to Caiaphas the High Priest was beyond clever. I could never suspect a thing. Genius. Judas, you deserve a high five. I’d give you one, but it’s a real pain to do so in my current position. We’ll get to it. Jesus. Talk about perfect. Fist-bump-worthy move there.

Really should have been obvious, looking back. “Palm Sunday” the week I’m supposed to have nails driven through my palms? Dead giveaway (see what I did there? Of course you did. You’re far better at this than I, as events have demonstrated). Holey Wednesday? Holey Thursday? Holey Saturday? Good Friday to you, too – as good a joke as the world is likely to see. Damn, you guys are good. It’s like somebody came up with a symbolic narrative and proceeded to implement it in real life. You don’t see that kind of thing outside literature, or maybe comic books. There’s no way I’d believe it was real.

Well, you got me: it’s all too real now. I couldn’t be more impressed if you turned water into gall wine right in front of me – but I’ll politely decline to drink it, thank you very much. With the prank you’ve just pulled, Lord knows what nasty stuff you’ve laced that with.

Really, the only way this could have been more over-the-top, more in-your-face, would be affixing a whoopee cushion to the cross before my execution. Then the assembled multitudes, not just those of you in on the joke, would have gotten a good laugh. But I suppose as the story of this epic prank spreads and gets embellished over time, people will continue to guffaw at its brilliance and cleverness – they didn’t need to be in on it in ordinary time. Yeah, I did it again – hey, just because you can outprank me doesn’t mean I’m going to forsake the path of punkin’; I still take pride in the flatulence humor of my youth, back when they called me Jesus of Razzareth. Almost opened a gag shop nextdoor to my dad’s carpentry stall.

Come to think of it, you guys really should look into the commercial possibilities of this episode. With a real sense of mission, you could hit it big.

Almost as big as the Beatles.

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