The Interview.

Satan: Jesus, let me begin by thanking you for agreeing to this interview.

Jesus: Oh, it’s my pleasure, I assure you. I’ve heard a lot about you and I wanted to see for myself.

Satan: Likewise. Are you comfortable? How is the wine? I hope you don’t mind the fire, I find people look so much better by its light. I trust my choice of corpus is pleasing enough, you will forgive my outlandish size, my lack of grace.

Jesus: On the contrary, you are grace itself, even with such hands. Your wine is excellent, your manners not what I expected.

Satan: Ah, you looked for horns and tail no doubt, I can produce some if you like. You came corporeal as well, would you be more comfortable in spirit? Do you need the dove for that?

Jesus: No, I can do a few things without the dove. Give me a bottle of water and I’ll produce a better vintage than this.

The Devil is smiling now. Jesus looking at his fingernails and swinging his crossed leg. He is quite handsome for a classic Jew, the nose in particular is so perfect I suspect a hint of Persian somewhere, but who can say? He has a sweet mouth, I like him clean shaven like this, it narrows the focus. Intentional, no doubt. A beautiful man using his beauty to full effect, he’s probably on all the time. One wonders what he would look like asleep, did no one ever fucking look? Angelic or dark? I say he shows both, he will be sacrificed by his own father and that has to be living somewhere.

I watch him closely, what does he do to that bottle? He passes his sleeve across it, hiding it from view like any magician, no smoke, no words, he simply looks up at me and smiles. His eyes are brown and I’m definitely surprised by what I see in them. This man, surrounded by rabble who will light the world on fire for him, whose father gives him up to savages, who had such a miraculous birth, he doesn’t take himself seriously. Not even a bit. I look back at him, if it were politic to smile at this instant, I would. I’m already enjoying this interview, let’s see what his wine is like.

They bring new glasses, straight crystal so I can see what I need to, he pours and yes, it’s gorgeous. He’s gone with red, a nice touch, he passes me the glass and it captures firelight like a jewel. Ah, Jesus, this is some good wine.  Slowly, guessing, they can hardly grow good grapes there, but, really, I know my sea salts, I know my soils. Delicious, a sharp kick that I didn’t expect, I hold out my glass for more. Now I’m smiling again.

Satan: Thank you, son of god, for this excellent wine, you’re right, it’s better than mine, you tempt me, Jesus. You know I have groves in Hell, it takes a great deal of good wine to get proper service out of spies and menials. Tell me the truth now, you didn’t produce this at a local wedding, you wouldn’t waste this on a crowd like that?

Jesus laughs, I see that he is on his third glass, his hands pouring it are long and elegant, the hands of a lord, not a carpenter. I take the bottle from him, it’s still full, I like this trick, he’ll have to show me how it’s done. I refill his glass and mine, I’ll pour from here on in and we’ll see what happens.

Jesus: I have no trouble turning water into wine, I can produce this exact vintage into eternity, so yes, I bring it out all the time. It’s my own wine, actually. My followers drink nothing else.

He says this with a straight face, we look at each and share a different kind of smile. No wonder I like it so much. I must have the recipe. The Devil pauses here to think of its effect on his love, suddenly this interview is looking less appealing. Take the bottle and fuck off Pandor, you can- what? Bribe another apostle? And Jesus will come back, just like that?

He sits up and adds wood to the fire, his smile is a grin now, no doubt the bastard can read my mind. Let’s be a tad more careful then.

Satan: Well, now that we’re nicely loosened up, let’s have some questions. I have a long list, we may not get to them all, so I’ll start at the heart, if you’ll oblige me. But first, try some of this. I grow it myself, I know a thing or two about gardening.

We smoke silently for a while, passing it back and forth and studying each other. I see him relax and open his face to me, so much there to read. He’s very old for one so young. Quite different questions bloom in my mind, but no, I have a duty to my loyal reader to get the good stuff.

Satan: Jesus. How’s your sex life?

He laughs out loud, his teeth are perfect, his eyes joyous.

Jesus: Excellent question Satan. My sex life is fantastic, I’m the son of a god, people want to fuck me. I’m careful, no babies, I won’t be around to support them, after all. The coupling copious, the selection tasty, I’m enjoying my years here. This is wonderful, by the way, I’d like to try it out on a few Marys… I’m sure you’ll have more?

Satan: Of course, I have some ready in a leather bag under your chair. Kidding. They’ll give it to you on the way out. I include some seeds since you’re clearly a gardener yourself. And please, call me Pandor, all my friends do.

Jesus: You’re too kind, Pandor. What else do you want to know?

I sit quietly for a moment, picturing him in different period garb, he looks good in a handmade Italian suit. The dress he wears is fine, practical for the ugly heat outside, but everyone is wearing one. He in no way stands out, violating the First Rule of Gods- that you must always be First. It should show. I put him in something Elizabethan, with an ermine robe and crown, he’s a fine looking specimen, even in tights. This is good stuff, apparently.

Satan: How old are you? Thirty I think? Have you had a serious talk with your father recently?

Jesus: No, but I imagine I’m due. To be honest he’s not very clear on what he wants from me. I told him I can win the world, it’s pitifully easy, all I have to do is play like you. But he doesn’t want the world, no, he has other plans for me, he just can’t be bothered to tell me them.

Yes. Slightly awkward, but really, who am I to judge a father?

Satan: Well, I would think he would have given you some idea of your future, will you just continue to roam around and work up crowds?

Jesus: I don’t see why not? It’s fun, I don’t have to learn a trade, do I look like a carpenter to you? I get so much pussy, you have no idea. Tell me, are all these women going to end up in Hell for it? Do you punish loose women?

Satan: It depends what they look like.

And so we end Part I.

This interview went on for longer than you can bear to read in one sitting, my modern, pathetic reader. Have I taxed you already? Rest now. Part II will follow soon enough.

For music I am recommending the soundtrack to “Jesus Christ Superstar.”

Don’t watch the actual movie, it’s locked in period partiality, my visuals are much better. Jesus does have long hair, a lush golden brown that he has hand polished with silk, by volunteers.