[Editor's Note: Jack Grisham is an author, hypnotherapist, T.S.O.L. front man and all-around troublemaker. This column may or may not be factual, with characters who may or may not be real.]
"I need 10,000 words on this new Jesus. Can you do it?"
I stared at him. He was overweight, unqualified and a total cunt.
"You want 10?" I asked. "I'll give you a million, you fat fuck."
"Perfect." He handed me an address and a time. "Go here, talk to the master, and write it up. They say he's the second coming of Christ. I say he's full of shit."
The address I was given was straight-up downtown, a shit-hole apartment building housing derelicts and Section 8s. The Lord Our God was three flights up. I climbed the stairs and knocked on the door.
"Hey, Jesus! Open up."More »