Donuts in the Sky
|Illustration by Mitch Handsone|
whats gone by since you seen us last, my wife and I produced two more lil Workers for the Lords Factory. Older ones a boy, and we named him Ari, after the Jew what used to be the Messiahs press secretary, on account of at the moment of conception my wife yelled out his name. Which I can understand. The Jew is an attractive fella, ball-headed heathen or not, and my wife and I are members of his official fan club. (You can join, too, atwww.probush.com/arifanclub.htm.)
The younger one, the baby, were not sure yet ifn its a boy or a girl, but as soon as we find out well give it a name sos it gets a proper name tag at the Factory. Possibly Condoleezza, or Enron. I suppose we should look into joining their fan clubs, too.
So my wife and I
were driving our beloved Abraham Lincoln Navigator home from church when I decided to stop on account of theres a red light. My wife says, Why did you stop? and I said, Because that theres a red light, and if you dont stop they give you a ticket.
She said, Who does?
I said, The po-lice! See that, over there? Thats one of them fancy light-post cameras what shoots license plates.
She said, Oh.
I said, Plus, even without the red light, we cant go forward until the cars in front of us get out of our way.
So then my wife says, Well, why dont you honk your horn?
I cant think why not, sos I start a-honkin. Honkin and honkin and honkin. And the liberal in front of us its got an anti-Messiah sticker on its bumper, says ImpeachBush.org, is how come I know its a liberal the liberal opens its sunroof and flips me the bird. My wife wrote down its bumper sticker and license plate in our Book. We carry a special Book to keep track of such matters.
When we come home, my wife put our computer boots on and we taked a look-see at the ImpeachBush.org Web site. Just like we thought bunch of liberal legal mumbo jumbo, Jezebelian hogwash and the like. So then we had a couple cold ones and took a browse of our normal look-ups, to see whats new in Heaven, Rapture updates and so on. And we found us a place of par-ticular interest that I want to show you.
So now go turn on your fancy Hebrew Apple computers, and make your Internet go tohttp://BushFish.org.
Ill wait right here until you got the page up.
All right? Okay. There it is. You see that? Theys sellin Jesus-fish stickers, only instead of sayin J-E-S-U-S in the middle, they say B-U-S-H! You see that?
* * *
Isnt it a pleasure when people speak to you in terms that you can relate to easily?
TheCheerleaders Guide to Life
by Cindy Villarreal (ISBN 0-06-273291-9)
All right. Now, I dont know
if I ever told you before, but my wife and I own a donut shop called My Wife and Is Donuttes. Its in the strip mall down in Pinestump Glen. We been there a good long time, sellin specialty-shaped donuts in two varieties: Jesus-fish donuts (with J-E-S-U-S spellt out in the middle), and our best-selling crucifix donuts, delicious glazed replicas of the sacred weapon what killed the Lord.
My wife, B.J. used to call her Beej until we found out the fella what played B.J. Hunnicutt on MASH is a damn secular Jewmanist, so nows I just call her B.J. again B.J., she invented both the crucifix donut and the Jesus-fish donut.
Everyone loves donuts, and everyone loves Jesus. Thats what B.J. says. And thats what it says on the front window and the wall behind the cash register.
Well, one day last year, while the Messiah was running for re-election, one day I come up to my wife and I say, You know what? You know what you oughtta do? You oughtta take them recipe for Jesus-fish donuts and turn it into aBush-fish
donut recipe! Just like the same shape, see, only in the middle part, instead of J-E-S-U-S itd say B-U-S-H! Like that! And I showed her a picture I drawed.
So my wife invented the crucifix donut and the Jesus-fish donut, butI
invented the Bush-fish donut! And now them BushFish.org people is sellin the stickers and makin all the money, and theres not one dang thing my wife and I can do about it. Oh, sure, we could sue, but that ends up with all the money goin to the Jew lawyers and us not seein a dime.
Oh, well. It doesnt matter no-how. Well be retirin soon enough. Retirin to Heaven. With air conditionin and all the bells. But it was still my idea.
Have you ever been to Heaven?
My wife and I got to visit once. Our whole congregation got to go, and it was the most wonderful weekend ever. They had slot machines and everything, and we won a bunch of money and even got free T-shirts! We cant wait to go back, especially since next time itll be for good!
It wont be long now . . . Yep, soon as the Rapture comes, well be drinkin beer with our Messiah President, up in Heaven! Hootin and a-hollerin, bettin on the Ken-tucky Derby and the Indy 500! Gettin free haircuts and sippin mint jewlips on the front porch of our cloud, lookin down through our bi-noculars and seein all your uppity heathen souls a-burnin and a-writhin in the lake of far.
Nice day, today, here in Heaven, aint it, George? (Hed make us call Him George, on account of we called him Mr. President at first, and he told us, Call me George! and handed us the beers, even though we already had our mint jewlips.)
I tell you, in Heaven, everything is fine! Well eat rib steak and baked potatoes with sour cream and chives, and I suppose Ill have to try me a manicure. My wifes always saying how itd be nice if I got a proper manicure, only it just seems a bit ladylike to suit me. I suppose up in Heaven, though, people dont worry about stuff like that.
Yep, Jimboyo! Sure is a nice day! Say, do you think that wife of yours could bring us another plate of them special donuts she makes?
Why, sure thing, George! Do you even have to ask? Theres always more donuts in Heaven!
Get the This Week's Top Stories Newsletter
Every week we collect the latest news, music and arts stories — along with film and food reviews and the best things to do this week — so that you'll never miss LA Weekly's biggest stories.