A short tale, in keeping with the spiritual mood of this section at the moment

I saw Jesus in the alley out back. He was sitting on the air con outlet, his robe flapping gently in the warm breeze from the fan. He was tapping the heels of his sandals on the grid and nodding his head in time to a silent tune. In flagrant disregard of the no smoking sign behind him, he had a cigarette cupped in one hand. I wondered where he kept his lighter. Did the robe have inside pockets?

He nodded a greeting and shuffled across the air con unit, moving his robe over for me. I vaulted up next to him. He took an earpiece out and paused his MP3.

"Those things’ll kill you" I told him, nodding at his cigarette.

He smiled. "Dude, don’t you know? I get resurrected. I’m fireproof."

We chuckled, partly at the joke, partly in guilt at the sacrilege.

He took my wrist and turned it, looking at my watch. "God. Three quarters of an hour yet. I don’t know why they insist on getting me ready so early. I always peak way too soon. You wouldn’t believe the number of women who have told me that."

"Yeah. How would they know? They spend an hour deciding what shoes to wear, but in the two minutes it takes for sex they can decide you’re a lousy lover. Go figure."

We chuckled again. I liked Jesus. He had no pretensions. Others, they treated you like dirt if you weren’t their equal. God wouldn’t give you the time of day. The only time he had ever talked to me was when he wanted me to do something for him. But Jesus, he was OK. One of the lads. He’d even muck in if you needed a hand.

Like now. He could have kept his earpieces in, listening to his music. He could have pretended he was preparing himself. But no, he shuffled across, inviting me to share the moment, joking and chatting like we were pals. He was OK. I liked him.

He leant over towards me, as if to share some private word. I paused, listening to what he was about to say. "You know the best thing about these robes?" he asked. I shook my head. Jesus screwed up his face, then let out a long, sustained fart. He sat back upright again. "They don’t keep the farts in", and he flapped the robes in front of the fan.

"You animal", I laughed.

"It’s that curry I had last night. What can I say?"

"You know I’m meant to be looking for you?"

"Yeah? Have you found me yet?"

"Not yet, I’m still looking. It’s nothing important. He just gets twitchy if he doesn’t know where everyone is. I expect you’ll turn up in five minutes or so."

"God, I hate the tension beforehand. Those lot in there are wound up like piano wire. They start screwing with my head. I’d really appreciate it if you couldn’t find me at all."

I sympathised. I really did. Facing the crowds all the time, trying to live up to their expectations. It can’t be easy. But once you start, you’re screwed. You have to keep going.

"Sorry, man."

"No worries." He threw the cigarette to the ground, then dropped off the unit, grinding his sandal on the stub. He looked up at am and nodded his readiness.

I thumbed the transmit button on the walkie-talkie. "Boss. I’ve found Jesus."