The fires burned, and
Jesus wept. Whenever he finished a
creation, he always wept - that was his way. He pitied them, the poor things: they go into
a world of fire. A long time past, he wept for
man. Now, he wept for the
UFOs.
The fires burned, and Jesus wept. The flames of the forge caused shadows to dance and dance upon the walls. The
hammer was heavy in his hand, and he made the last delicate tap. The
creation was complete.
"My child, my love," Jesus whispered. "
Blood of my blood and flesh of my flesh. . .you are begat of my
sweat and
toil." Tenderly, he stroked their hard but smooth exterior. "I love you well, and you shall pave the way for my return."
The fires burned, Jesus
sweat, and the UFOs
purred. Beneath their hard skin, the soft stuff in the UFOs
quivered in anticipation. "Though you pave the way for
God, you are not
invulnerable," Jesus warned. "Your shells are hard, but you may
die. The stuff betwixt the metals is as soft as
twice baked potatoes. Be wary, my loves, for some of your number will
bleed; and so some of your number will not return to me alive. But do not be
miserly with your
blood: if the time comes, as it does for all things, to spill it, do not be
afraid. The
bosom of Abraham will welcome even you should you die."
The UFOs
danced and
jumped. They were eager to be on their way.
Finally, with a
tear in his eye, Jesus whispered, "Go,
my pretties, go. Pave the way and spread the
good news! I shall come again!"
As one, the UFOs cried, "
AMEN!"
And they were off.
And they paved the way.
And
the rest is history.