Gospel According to St. Fatbelly


Translated by Joseph Witkowski

The following document is the translation of an ancient Aramaic text discovered in a archeological dig outside of Nazareth. It was found in 1972 and quickly submerged and hidden by the Vatican Council, however, recent unauthorized ventures by some unknown parties were able to liberate a copy. It is a recording of the life and actions of Jesus Christ not unlike the Gospels of Mark and Luke, but in slightly more eclectic verse. The document has the fluid style of a scribe trained in Galilee and was apparently taking dictation from the author who goes by the name of “Fat belly” (possible bad translation, may also be “pudge.”) The document was written in great haste and has several sections missing, it also has one other rather odd characteristic; the before mentioned author is apparently a goldfish.

I recount this tale with no hesitation, forthcoming and earnest as our lord and savior was to us, in his own strange way.
It had been three months since Jesus had left, and not returned and we feared the worst. As the oldest I was considered the wisest and therefore the leader, but I was neither. I could handle watching my friends of many years in the grips of starvation, limping back and forth around the city, praying for daily food that used to rain down upon us, and the face of our beloved Jesus Christ, through the invisible walls that separated our world from his.
But as oldest I felt I must act, I called a city meeting, and all my fellow citizens and gathered to discuss our impending doom. I remember Nietzsche, the scholarly one was the first to speak,
“He has abandoned us, Let us rejoice, for he has finally shown his true nature.”
Cher responded quickly, “You bastard, How can you say that about him, he may be lost, he may be dead, he never harmed us, he always kept us fed, kept us clean and warm. You are ungrateful swine.”
I noticed very quickly this was getting us no where. “My friends, you both have solid points. For am I oldest, I feel I know Jesus, I’m known his since he was child, he would come running in, crying, sad that his school mates hated him and feared him, because he would accidentally turn a flower into a dove, or a camel into a buick, or when he accidentally killed that milkman and brought him back to life. In the darkest of rainy nights he would sit next to our city, He would tell me that he loved me, and that I was his only friend. He was a shunned and hated boy and knew the horrors of loneliness, he grew to love all of you as he loved me, and would never abandon us.
Mr. T, the strongest of our kind, spoke with his usually frankness, “My friends, Fatbelly is right, Jesus was our friend, I for one spent many nights listening to him speak of his wishes and dreams, not just for us but the world, remember when he would sit in his lounge chair, drink some beers, get stoned and overfeed us, meanwhile singing the praises of the world, boy that man could play guitar! This was not a vindictive man, but a kind soul, the explanation is that he must have been injured, or perhaps, I fear the worst.”
The crowd at this point became uneasy, their were about 12 of us, residing in such a small place, absent of food, I began to fear a riot. Nietzsche, looking more manic at every second, dispatched and dismayed that anyone would disagree with him, spoke last.
“My friends, despite what I or you or anyone thinks, that fact is that he is gone, and by our wits alone we must learn how to find food, and live on our own.
“On that note,” I interjected, “it is best we sleep well tonight, think upon our problem and regroup in the morning.
That night I slept not at all, filled with apprehension, and empty of nourishment.
The next morning the town meeting was called again, but neither Cher, nor Nietzsche arrived. We first went to Nietzsche’s hole, finding it vacant, then, to Cher’s, where was encountered a most horrible sight, her body, devoured down to the bone.
“My God, she’s been murdered!” Kissinger yelled out, “we must seek out the killer and bring him to justice for this most terrible and forbidden deed.”
“Yes” followed Mr T, “I shall hunt him down myself and tear his heart from his body!”
“Wait” I exclaimed, we have no idea-,” but just then, I spotted Nietzsche hiding behind the foliage, when spotted, he began to swim for his life, my face betrayed me to the crowd.
“There he is! It was Nietasche,” exclaimed Mr.T, “Come back you Spartan dog, you deserve the misery that awaits and will be so generous in bestowing it, you can’t hide!”
Which in fact was the case, considering our city was 2 feet by 6 feet wide. Nietzsche was quickly corned and we closed in quickly, his eyes were so alive with fear, I could not bear to watch his death, for I had seen enough for that day. I quickly interceded, blocking the path of the approaching mob.
“wait, my friends, stop, what would our lord savior do in such a time, we must at least allow mercy to overtake our passions, and allow Nietzsche a fair trial.”
“Fair Trial?” exclaimed Mr. T. “Are you mad, Cher he dead, he is the only one with a plump belly amongst our starving city. He ate he alive! In the time of crisis he turned on one of his own, how could such a man do this and deserve mercy?”
“Nevertheless, perhaps he is mad, perhaps he was unable to stop himself, and perhaps he has sealed his fate, he should be allowed a chance to defend himself.” Once I had seemed to gain the trust of this seething vengeful mob, I turned to my once comrade, murderer of my kind, and asked him to speak. He shook to the point of exhaustion and could barely mouth the words.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but I was so hungry, the pain was too much, I was driven insane by my need, it consumed me, perhaps I am weakest of all, but I could no longer bear it, and feared death so much. Forgive me, and spare me, I was deranged with hunger!”
“Bull shit!, let us serve up ourselves a plate of traitor!” Mr. T yelled, “I agree said Kissinger, “If we do not kill him, he shall kill again let his punishment feed our hungry hearts, and return this sad crime upon its evildoer.”
“STOP!” the voice was faint over the crowd, but it caught the ear of all, it was Cher.
“Stop, I live, I’m alive” she swam out of the cave fully restored.
“It is a miracle, what was done is now undone, I have been resurrected!”
“How is this possible, it must be some kind of trick.”
“It is no trick, Nietsche indeed did sneak into my cave last night, and before I knew it, had knocked me unconscious and began to cannibalize me, I was dead, I saw nothing of the world, but then I awoke, as if from a dream, my body alive again, I don’t know how but it is the truth.”
It is then that we realized what had happened. “For our lord Jesus once said to me in the darkest of the night, when he was a child, lonely and afraid, that he wanted us to live forever, for we were his only friends. He must have made us immortal, so that we cannot die, we have lived this long without food, we should all be dead already, perhaps we cannot die.”
“If this is the case, we know what me must do, to stave off the pain of starvation, will shall have to devour each other, once we eat to the point of satisfaction, we will be restored, and return the favor, this shall be the way of things, and we shall no longer fear death.”
This was many years ago, and until this day this story had stayed with us, the story of our discovery, our salvation, carry it on to others, so that they may know the strange and merciful love of our Lord Jesus.

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