So there we were inside a Walgreens late at night. We needed aspirin and (apparently) some Pepsi Max—which I will always call Diet Pepsi Max I don’t care what you do Pepsi! As we approach the empty register a figure shuffles behind and around to greet us. His vest flapping and his pants held up by a huge belt buckle.
It was late. I was tired and had a bit of a headache. My hoodie was down and my nifty ninja turtle stocking cap left in the car. My hair was down and fell nicely around my shoulders.
Why am I telling you this?
(Shut up that’s why I’m telling you.)
His eyes were barely open (or barley as I kept trying to type) as he asked how we were doing. After the pleasantries were dispensed he appeared to call all his power to focus his gaze on me. His eyelids, two slow moving garage doors opened wider.
“Hey you look like a cool looking Jesus man.”
“I am Jesus my son.” Was the first sentence to pop into my head but I let it fade without being said. There was a slight pause as I cracked a smile.
“Well thank you.” I said instead. I mean it was a compliment after all, right?
The wife and I glanced at each other and he repeated it happily. He really enjoyed the fact that I looked some “cool looking Jesus.”
So I told him the story of my (very young) nephew saying “Jimi” when seeing a picture of Jesus. This story made him happy and settled in his mind just how much I looked like Jesus. He told us this and then did a sort of celebratory hand gesture.
Yeah he looked and sounded REALLY high.