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 "How about you, Jesus? Beer or shots?"
"You know me, Santa. Just water. I’ve gotta drive tonight." Jesus winked, grabbing a bottle of water from the counter, waved his hand, turning it’s contents a dark red. Santa reached into the cooler and pulled out a beer, struggling to twist off the cap with his gloves on. Trying the keg was pointless, as Moses and the tooth fairy had already finished it off during their last round of ‘beer pong’.
Jesus walked over to the couch, clearing it of crushed Doritos and sat down in the only available spot.
"What’d I miss so far?" Jesus mumbled over his shoulder to Hitler, sipping on a bottle of Deer Park merlot.
"These two are doing the same thing they do every year." Jesus looked over at Albert Einstein and Albert Camus, as they passed a joint back and forth, exchanging bitter debate.
Einstein handed the joint to Camus, rubbing his already red eyes with his free hand, and continued talking, "So, you’re trying to tell me, that, with the universe as infinitely expansive as it is, that we’re the only intelligent life forms in it, and that we have no purpose?"
"No, see, you don’t get what I’m saying. You think you do, but you don’t. Pretend that we’re put here for a reason, for the sake of argument, right?" Camus paused and looked over at Jesus, "No offense, bro."
"None taken," Jesus took another sip and chewed on a Dorito that he would later decide tasted like the couch.
"What I’m saying, is that even if we were put here for a reason, what’s the point in the end, if we’re all just going to die, right?"
Einstein responded, while picking crumbled pieces of dried cheese and Hot Pocket crust from his mouth, "Well, I don’t know, I think that, maybe while we’re all still alive, we’re supposed to try to be as perfect as we can. We wouldn’t be wasting our lives if we made ourselves as perfect as possible, don’t you think?"
Hitler smiled, "Finally, somebody agrees with me!" then proceeded to crush an empty beer can on his forehead. Jesus, Einstein, and Camus took a moment to applaud him, waking up Chuck Norris on the other end of the couch. Hitler and Jesus gently scooted down, giving him all the space he needed to get back to sleep.
Shortly thereafter, Hemingway stumbled in through the front door, wearing only underwear, and one pant leg, the other on dragging behind him, covered in mud. Santa walked in from the kitchen, spotting Hemingway, only to respond with, "Jesus Christ, what happened to you?!"
Jesus responded, "Well, after performing a couple of miracles and saving Christian humanity for all time, I got my ass nailed to a cross and got stabbed to death."
"Not you, smart ass, what happened to Hemingway?" Hemingway stumbled a bit before sitting down on a plate of coins resting in a dish on a table by the front door, beginning to explain, "I wanted to be in the bathroom so that I could have pee, but I took wrong door. Didn’t get to the bathroom." Hemingway stood up, pointing to the front door as small change and paper clips both clung to and fell from the back of his bare thigh.
Hitler began laughing as Santa wrapped his jacket around Hemingway and led him to the bathroom. Hemingway stopped him, saying, "Is okay, I already went." Hitler still laughing, Santa asked, "Did you pee in the bushes?"
"Nope, peed on some dude’s car. You should see man, I could win an award for that piss, the top down and everything." Hitler stopped laughing. Parked in the driveway was his Volkswagen Bug, the only convertible at the party, other than Santa’s sleigh, obviously.
Jesus leaned over to Hitler, putting one hand on his shoulder, using the other one to cover up the smile on his face. "You know, if Buddha were able to come tonight, he’d probably say something about karma right about now…"
Hitler looked back at Jesus, straightening his tie, and said, "Don’t make me bring up that time you had ‘too many drinks’ at supper and spent your last night with Mary Magdeline," and just before anyone could jump in and start bombarding Jesus with questions, there were three stern knocks on the front door, followed by, "Mr. Hemingway, this is the police, please open the door."
Einstein swallowed the rest of the joint, fanning the air around his head, as Jesus jumped up to turn off the stereo and put on his best Christian smile. Santa finished spraying aerosol air freshener around the room and headed to the front door, but it was already too late. Chuck Norris was at the door, with his pistol drawn, and badge pinned to the ass of his jeans. He turned around to all the terrified faces, showing the word BALLS sloppily scribbled in permanent marker across his forehead and said, "Don’t worry guys, I’ve got this one…"
Copyright 2007 Andrew B. Finch
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