"Holy shit!" Jesus said. "What the hell is that?"
"It looks like … some kind of giant fucking balloon," Santa said.
"Huh. Like some giant fucking kid let go of it, and it floated way up here, right?"
"Yeah,. Something like that."
"Jesus—this is so far up, we're almost in outer space."
"You talking to yourself again, Jesus?"
"Yeah, I guess I am. Well what do you say? Should we go check it out?"
"Sure, if you wanna. I'm game." Santa stood up in his sleigh. "Alright, boys! LET'S FUCKING GO, HO HO HO!"
The reindeer heard, and launched in the direction of the Unidentified Floating Object.
"Look at that!" Jesus said, the silvery form looming massive before them. "It must be, like fifty-five stories high!"
"Pretty tall for a goddamn balloon."
"You think that's what it is, Kris? A big-ass balloon?"
"It's either that," Santa said, "or a freaky-ass spaceship."
"Damn! Look at that!" Jesus said. "A freaky-ass spaceman!"
A figure had appeared in a portal at the bottom of the craft.
"Well, that does look like a space suit," Santa said.
"Yeah—see? It's got a space helmet, and other space shit."
"I bet it's just a guy in a suit."
"Not a freaky-ass space alien?"
"Jesus, have you ever seen any real freaky-ass space aliens?"
"Around here? Only the ones we let in from time to time, to harvest and probe the weirdos."
"Ho Ho Ho! I hope you're kidding."
"Yeah, sure I'm kidding. Maybe. Weirdo."
"Wave to the dude," Santa said. "See if he waves back."
"How do you know he's a he? What if he's an it? I'm not fucking waving at him. You wave at him."
"Oh, wow … that guy better take it easy. See how he just stood up? If he's not careful, he's going to …"
"Fall?" Jesus said. "Too late."
"Whoa! What the … we have to …"
"Help him? Yeah—and if you take all day spitting out the fucking words, the dude's gonna to be a splat puddle before we even fucking get to him."
The figure was tumbling ass-over-teakettle at breakneck speed. Santa drove the sleigh into a dive next to it, and spun around so the open cockpit was facing their target.
"Jesus!" Santa hollered. "Can you straighten him out?"
"Sure, I like to think I can." Jesus pointed at the flip-flopping projectile. "Shazam!"
The tumbling stopped.
"There," Jesus said, "that straightened his ass out."
"You think we should try to make contact, Jesus?"
"I don't know; maybe we should just try talking to him."
"Hey," Santa said, "this reminds me of that cool scene in the movie Top Gun." He and Jesus exchanged a glance, then they both flipped the bird to the spacesuit. Jesus produced a camera, and snapped a picture. "I have a great Polaroid of it," he recited the line from the movie.
"Hey, you guys!" The voice came from the space suit. Jesus and Santa both looked its way. "You guys! I'm right here! I can hear you! And see you! What the hell is this?"
"No shit!" Jesus said. "It can talk!"
"It can talk … of course it can talk!" said the voice from the space suit. "And why the fuck are you calling me it?"
"Dude! What are you, man?"
"Yes … what?"
"What my friend means," Santa said, "is—you're a guy in there, right? A guy in a special suit?"
"You bet your ass it's a special suit! Only a few like it in the entire world!"
Jesus smiled. "Just like yours, Kris."
"Ho Ho Ho! Mine's maybe a little less high-tech."
"So—you in the suit—you're not a space alien?"
"What?! A space alien? Are you fucking kidding me?"
"I don't think he is," Santa said. "Jesus seems genuinely concerned."
"I am," Jesus said. "So, you're a homo sapien?"
"Nah," the guy said, "I'm Austrian."
"Oh … well then … g'day mate!"
"Jesus, he said he's Austrian—not Australian."
"Oh, okay. Guten strudel to you, then."
"What? Good strudel?" the Austrian said. "Why the hell would you say that?"
"I'm impressed," Santa said. "Ho Ho Ho! You sure know how to say weird shit in a lot of different languages, Jesus!"
Jesus failed to acknowledge the humor.
"Jesus?" the Austrian said. "Christ? I must be hallucinating. Is that a fucking sleigh you're flying in? Who's the fat old guy? Oh, man … I must be losing it."
"You're not losing anything," Santa said. "Ho Ho Ho! This here's my buddy, Jesus Christ."
"Oh God …"
"Not God. Jesus. God Jr., if you will."
"You know it drives me nuts when you call me that," Jesus said.
"Maybe I'm already dead," the Austrian said to himself. "I didn't survive the jump, and now I'm dead. That would explain it."
"He's not dead is he, Kris?"
"Nope," Santa said, "not that I can see."
"So by the way," Jesus said, "this handsome fella is Kris Kringle—AKA Santa Claus. You don't want to be showing up on his bad list, trust me."
"It's true; you won't get shit for Christmas."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"So, Mister Austrian," Jesus said, "what the hell's happening here, anyways? Did you just fall out of your floating thingy, or is this some kind of sci-fi suicide attempt?"
"That thingy is a balloon."
"See?" Jesus turned to Santa. "I told you it's a fucking balloon."
Santa shook his head and smiled. "Right as always, Jesus."
"Thanks for noticing, Kris." Jesus turned back to the Austrian. "So, you trying to kill yourself, or what, my man? Having a hard time coming out of the closet? Or coming to terms with what that dirty old priest did to you? It'll all be okay; just hop in the sleigh, and we'll get you down to terra firma in one piece."
"No—this is my world record attempt."
"World record attempt? What world record? Most vaginormous impact crater?"
"No, some skydiving records: highest jump, fastest free fall … stuff like that."
"Huh," Jesus said. "So it is a suicide attempt, then." He shook his head. "There's some men you just can't reach …"
"I think he was explaining that he's not trying to kill himself," Santa said. "Sure, it might happen …"
"But only by accident," the Austrian added. "By the way, did you hear me break the sound barrier a few seconds ago?"
"No shit! I thought that was my friend Santa here, breaking the wind barrier."
"Ho Ho Ho! That was what I thought, too! Maybe it was both!"
"Do you really think it would have been that loud?" the Austrian said.
"Yes," Jesus and Santa said together.
"It would have been," Santa continued. "Trust me."
"Yeah, trust him," Jesus said. "Just don't follow him up the stairs too closely."
"Don't worry—I won't."
"You know," Santa said, "the Earth's starting to look a little closer these last few seconds. How much longer 'till you …"
All of sudden, Jesus and Santa were alone. First they looked at each other, then they looked back up where they'd been."
"… pull your chute?" Santa finished his sentence.
"I guess that answers that," Jesus said.
"Looks like he's going to be alright, now."
"Good thing we came along and talked some sense into him."
"I don't think he was planning to pull the chute, until you and me convinced him that life was worth living."
"Really? I didn't get that at all."
"Really. So now, I just have this one nagging question …"
"What do you think they wear under a skydiving spacesuit like that?"
"Hmmn … I don't know," Santa said. "Some kind of thermal underwear, I guess?"
"I suppose that's possible."
"What do you think?"
"I was leaning toward women's lingerie. Really sexy stuff."
"Yeah? Ho Ho Ho! Why's that?"
"Because when I'm hurtling toward impending doom at hundreds of miles per hour … I want to feel pretty."
"You do? Ho Ho Ho! That's kind of fucked up, don't you think?"
"Not really, no. But I definitely wouldn't go with any light colors … in case I get … you know … nervous."
Copyright 2012 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC
PS. Check out my novel, Jesus Vs. Santa (Adult Humor). Ebook is only $2.99 at www.cockandbullpublishing.com and most other online book sellers.
© Copyright 2017 Harlowe Pilgrim. All rights reserved.
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