A short story of the Filipino Jesus Christ
Once upon a bleak time in the archipelagic Philippines, where a decent means of communication between natives is virtually unheard of (they can only communicate by shouting); a boy was born in poverty by a labandera who got fucked by a wayward American Soldier who was just visiting the islands, not having real purpose in life. The father went back to the States and left the brown-assed lowly labandera immediately after hearing of the boy’s birth.
This boy grew up to be the 20th century Jesus Christ in his hometown, or at least he was told probably by his mother who wanted saving of her own. He became a teacher of sorts, proud of his accomplishments despite of growing up half-orphaned and practically abandoned by a male parent/figure. By Jesus Christ, it could either be saviour of the masses or cause of mass hysteria. Either way, it became fixed in his brain that he had a destiny to look forward to, a kind of grand mission in life.
The name of this boy-turned-faggot is Jesus “Jess” Ramos and he firmly believes he is out, literally outside of our gates, to save me…from what, I don’t know.
Right now, I have headaches just listening to its wails of desperation so see you soon, faggot. You know what not to do so keep doing it, okay? Next time, jump in the pool of your own man-made flood. Swim with your own minions. Sorry, followers.
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