JESUS LOSES HIS MEMORY

             Jesus went down to Georgia with a banjo and a hobo pack. The local sheriff mistook him for a hippie and beat him with his club. And that's how Jesus got amnesia.

            He woke up in a pile of trash and started looking through his pockets for clues and bugs. He found an address for a town near Atlanta and headed off to the afore mentioned town near Atlanta.

 The address turned out to be a whore house called Big Eddie's House o' Whores. Eddie knew Jesus by the name Big Willy. He got that name in a poker game where he whipped out his measly cock and tried to use to cover a bet with Eddie. But Eddie was no fool. He insisted that Jesus throw in his balls and his prostate. Luckily, Jesus won the bet.

 Jesus asked Big Eddie, "Who am I?" "You're the fucker who took all my money!" This sudden aggression made Jesus tremble with fear and his magical voodoo powers began firing off all crazy and taking people out, left and right. Well not people actually, hookers. Big Eddie had never seen Jesus this upset, it scared him, a lot- I mean on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being scared a lot and 1 being not very scared at all, Big Eddie was a 10.

So he calmed Jesus down by tossing some plates at his head, eventually knocking Jesus unconscious. Then he took a shit and wrote a message on it in white out and slid it into Jesus' anus so that he would read it when he pooped it out later. The message said, "Eat at Phil's Diner," Jesus did, it was delicious. But he still had the problem of not knowing who he was.

So he hired a private detective. Big mistake. Dickface P.I. screwed Jesus over for $3000 and told Jesus to go to a psychic. He didn't know who he was, but he knew those fuckers were full of shit. After 10 years of frustration over his lost identity, the J man finally killed himself. Once in Heaven, Jesus remembered everything and went out for a beer. 

JESUS VS. THE BUG KING

            For weeks the news was full of bug problems; ants and roaches were found in every kitchen in America.  Christians prayed to Jesus for help, but Jesus said, “Who do you think I am, an exterminator?”  So the problem continued, and soon the bugs had eaten all of America’s children and Pop Tarts. 

            Jesus walked into the kitchenette of his fabulous Watts apartment and screamed like a little bitch when he opened the cupboard and saw cockroaches finishing off his last Pop Tart.  One by one, Jesus ripped off all their legs.  He pan fried them and ate them with garlic and melted cheddar. 

            Next door the hideous Bug King, Stan, heard the screaming of his poor minions.  He grabbed his scepter, put on his crown, and burst through the wall with fourteen hundred of his closest friends.  Jesus grabbed his nut sack and ran for it. 

            The Bug King gave chase.  Jesus saw that he was being chased, so he pulled out his banjo and played some chase music.  The bugs quickly surrounded Jesus and took him down.  “Get me my castrating spoon!”  yelled the Bug King.  One large cockroach brought Stan a tablespoon.  Jesus let out a hearty laugh, “You think you’re gonna castrate me with that?”  He then lifted his robe to reveal watermelon-sized testicles.  Stan scurried off in search of a bigger spoon. 

            Jesus squirreled and squirmed and tried to free himself, but the bugs were tough, too tough, Andy Richter tough.  Just then, Jesus’ good friend Matt came wandering by, squishing bugs, and he accidentally squished one of Jesus’ nuts. 

            Jesus screamed in pain and ecstasy, a sound that Matt was familiar with.  Matt helped Jesus up and they shared a passionate embrace.  Then they remembered that the Bug King was still lurking about.  So Matt took up Jesus in his arms and ran off into the sunset.  And Matt was never heard from again.