“The Answer to the Great Question… Of Life, the Universe and Everything… Is… Forty-two,’ said Deep Thought, with infinite majesty and calm.”
— Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
Like the great explorers before him, Le Clown was probing the vast depths of his nostrils, in search of brave new worlds, when White Baby Jesus knocked at the door:
White Baby Jesus: Knock Knock.
Le Clown: Who’s there?
White Baby Jesus: Jesus…
Le Clown: …Jesus Christ man, I’m so sorry for my XMAS banner I won’t do it again I swear to God please don’t tell my mom…
WBJ: Chill the fuck out, dude. I’m here to wish you happy birthday. Now open the door, I’m freezing my ass out here!
The Holy Man was wearing a white tunic, and a pair of sandals. It was -30°C (-22°F) in Montreal. Jesus wanted to look presentable and non-threatening, which is why he had chosen to appear as the Heinrich Hofmann‘s Christ at Thirty-Three version.
WBJ: Don’t look at me like that—White Jesus in a bathrobe was not my first choice. I pack as big a punch as the Burning bush… I’d like to see you try and keep the fire burning in that stupid cold weather of yours…
Jesus was right: he did look like an imbecile in the snow with his Obi-Wan Kenobi robe. It is common knowledge that vampires need to be invited in to enter one’s home. So I did, and Jesus warmed his white butt in our living room, looking constipated:
Le Clown: Coffee? The beans aren’t kosher though…
WBJ: Do you have some post-Transubstantiation blood in your fridge?
Le Clown: You just killed my vampire joke, White Baby Jesus…
WBJ: Sorry, Le Clown, but I just saved you from writing another apology… And what’s with Edward Cullen and these glistening vampires anyway? Dad and I never intended for Stephenie Meyer to be a writer; she was destined to be a pair of Gap khaki pants.
Le Clown: So you weren’t offended?
WBJ: Hell no! If anything, it lacked tact… Do you remember The Parking Lot is Full? Now that shit was funny…
Anyfuckinghoo, happy birthday, Le Clown. I was going to offer you five more years to your life, but after the birthday scavenger hunt that your wife orchestrated yesterday, I thought the following might be more appropriate:
The answer to everything, my dear Le Clown, is you. Happy 42nd birthday.
Le Clown: You’re such a softie, J-Boy, thanks man. Before you fly out of here on your motor cross, can you help Curmudgeon-at-Large and myself reinstate Pluto as a planet?
WBJ: You have my blessings, I’ll support your efforts. Now fuck off.
Note from L’Éric: Thank you to all bloggers who participated to the Blog Scavenger Hunt: Madame Weebles, Roller Giraffe, Becca, Speaker7, Tracy Fulks, Carrie Rubin, Jen Tonic, Adrienne Schmadrienne, and David Dixon. And to the master mind behind the hunt, my wife, who makes me write things that make my readers vomit in their mouth: I love you.
Post Scriptum #42: The ACOF Club Member Wrangler™ contest has been prolonged to February 1, 11:59PM. That means YOU still have time to write your candidacy post!