He mumbled something about his Dad forcing him to come back to earth to save humanity from the pits of darkness when all he really wanted to do was learn how to longboard and try out the new 'Call Of Duty' . It seems his Dad is a bit of a hard ass and wont let him play video games or even own a cell phone. I told him his Dad reminded me of mine, except for the part about throwing people in Hell, I also suggested that he should be more enthusiastic about returning to earth because there were so many people that loved him and couldn't wait to see him.
He grunted his understanding before breaking down in a pitiful crying fit. I threw my arm around Jesus shoulder and told him everything would be Okay, that he didn't have to do what his Dad said, because he was thousands of years old, and in my book that meant you were a grown-up.
Jesus thanked me, then blew his dripping nose in the squirrel before tossing it into the garbage can at his side. I felt so sorry for him and suggested he come stay with me for a few days to help clear the troubles from his mind and forget about his Dad for a while. He gave me a big hug and accepted my offer with a tearful smile.
The first couple months were great, I showed him all sorts of things, like how to make the perfect grill cheese sandwich and the correct amount of water to put in your bong. He was a quick learner with everything I put in front of him, except when it came to flushing the toilet. I don't know if he was doing it on purpose or if the concept of flushing just wouldn't penetrate his brain, either way his divine droppings were a daily issue for me.
About two months in he started to get weird. He lost the desire to leave the house, sitting around day after day in front of the television watching The Price Is Right and Judge Judy. If I attempted to even say "Hi" while he was lost in his shows, he would casually rise from the couch and touch my face, which would immediately cause me to go blind, deaf, and dumb. I would be left like this, whimpering on the floor until he was ready to restore my senses with a smack on the back of the head.
It was around this time I also noticed the depletion of my liquor and weed stash. Much like my father did to me when I was young, I began to covertly mark each of my whisky bottles with a small scratch at their current level, then check randomly to see if the levels had changed, which they had. When I asked Jesus why he needed to drink my booze considering he had the power to turn plain tap water in to alcohol, he suggested I stop asking such questions unless I wanted him to turn me into a pig and drive me off a cliff, which I most certainly did not.
When my weed started going missing I was afraid to bring it up so I began to hide it instead. I should have know that wasn't going to work with someone who's omniscient. No matter where I put it, he found it, I once hid it in my underwear while I slept, only to wake in the dead of night to find his hand shoved firmly down the front of my boxers while he quietly whispered, "Shhh, go back to sleep, it will all be over soon." After that I started sleeping in my car.
When I finally got the nerve to suggest he had been there long enough and it was time to leave, he went crazy. He stomped around my home like an angry child, while at the same time throwing my collection of Rainbow Bright figurines around the house. He stormed out my front door only to return seconds later carrying one of my cement lawn gnomes, which he slammed down on my head, killing me instantly.
Luckily, he brought me back from the dead when he was finished his hissy fit. He was sitting cross legged on my kitchen floor with that same dejected look he had the first time I met him. I felt terribly guilty for asking him to leave, I couldn't know what he was going through, I was just a mortal who's greatest responsibility involved paying my bills and fighting the urge to tell people their children are ass-holes. But Jesus, he was the son of God, he had a reputation to live up to. People thought of him as perfect, and he was, but while in human form, he was also just a person, like me. I had been the first one to treat him like a regular guy, the first one to let him be himself, without asking for something or groveling at his feet while calling myself "unworthy" or "undeserving." He had been able to let loose around me, but he had screwed it all up and now it was over, and the prospect of this had broken his heart.
As we cried together on that cool tile floor he promised never to hurt me again, and I believed him because I knew he loved me. His emotion was real, he felt so guilty for treating me like garbage instead of the beautiful flower which I was, and swore never to hit me again. That's when I told him I had changed my mind, that I wanted him to stay, I just wanted him to respect my things as I promised to respect his. It was such a joyous relief for him, he hopped to his feet with an exclamation of joy and hugged me like a brother.
It's now been two months since we had our break through and Jesus is still living on my couch. I couldn't be more proud of him for having the strength to not only recognize the flaws in his character, but the courage to change them. We never argue anymore and the last time he murdered me was all those months ago in the kitchen.
I think I could honestly say that we are both very happy, although I still can't get him to flush the toilet.