I am a writer. I publish online and to some spiritual magazines. Nowadays, you can publish in about an hour and get comments and reviews immediately on your work. I am new at this and wrote my first articles to get comments from many a jokester complaining about my skills and lack of ability in my writing, calling me everything from a harmless simpleton to a maniacal monster to even asking if I was Jesus. I was about to respond to the last comment by saying that I am not Jesus but I could fetch him from the back where he is mowing the lawn. I used prudence and did not make any comments, for fear of being seen as racist or prejudiced.
The next day, as I was sweeping the driveway, a young mexican male came up to me and with his head bowed down and in Spanish he asked if I could offer him any work or know of anyone who could use a strong capable worker. I looked at this young man and told him I didn’t have anything to offer him, but that I could try to help. I asked him his name and he said Jesus. I laughed out loud to which he looked perplexed at me as to why I would laugh at no apparent joke. I explained to him my experience to which he smiled with somewhat of little to no understanding.
I talked with him a while, turns out he lives across the way in a trailer with his uncle Jose and a friend who is also named Jesus so I call one hayzeus, and the other I call him by his English name..Jeezuz
So I am neighbors with Jesus, as a writer and a comedian I know this is gonna be a story.
I met Jesus in a trailer park, he was looking for work, I wanted to help him out. I called on my friends who could use help and can afford to pay for someone and trust my judgment of character as well as use my interpretive services for communicating with the Mexican day laborers. So now I am pimpin Jesus. He does gardening, he is great with planting seeds. He can build walls using sheet rock, he can cut things down and build things up.
People ask me, Does he live here legally? I don’t know, I don’t ask my neighbors for their citizenship or green cards, but if asked, I better deny I know Jesus, for fear of getting in trouble.
I see the t-shirts, and cards saying, need help? Call Jesus.
Help out a Mexican, hire Jesus
Mexi- man, mexi-man, does whatever a mexi-can
Of course living in a trailer park is a gold mine for me as a writer, next door lives a guy named Angel, who when I need a hand and Jesus is not around he shows up. Of course I love it when he brings his girlfriend, margarita.
My latest idea is called Jesus and the tortillera, probably a best seller in Mexico, as a tortillera is a woman who makes torillas by hand, you know slapping the corn meal ball with her hands till its flat and round, well the act of two hands slapping together is alluded to as lesbians having sex without the penis, .
So Jesus is about 22 years younger than I am . I am the same age as his mother in Mexico, so I feel very motherly towards him. As a 100 % lesbian, I am technically a virgin, so I understand the virgin mother complexity.
We have fun, Jesus is always willing to make the beer runs when we run out. We sit around the fire and sing songs and tell some great stories. Jesus is a great story teller, although he needs to be reminded to think with his big head , not the little one. He tells some whoppers, I remind him not to fall into temptation, especially with the under aged girls. That boy is such a lamb, a real joy to my world.
Time for a cold one for this queen, I want a Corona, how appropriate as corona means crown, no thorns for me, just lime ,thanks.