He tried moving his arm, but it no longer responded to him.
“That’s me,” the puppet said. “Who the hell are you?”
Luke sat up. He expected this to be a dream, but it wasn’t.
“I’m Luke,” he said. “You’re swearing quite a bit to be Jesus.”
“How the fuck do you expect me to react?” the puppet snapped. “I spent
over two thousand years waiting to be resurrected, and I come back as
this? Unbelievable!”
“You’re not really Jesus,” Luke said.
“I’m fucking real,” the puppet declared. “And I am fucking Jesus!”
“Okay,” Luke muttered. “I must be hallucinating.”
“That’s what I thought too,” said the puppet. “No way my dad would fucking
do this to me.”
Luke stood. It took effort using only one arm. He grabbed the sock and
tried pulling it off. It wouldn’t budge.
“Hey!” the puppet cried. “That hurts!”
“Okay. Okay. Okay,” Luke said, pacing. “How am I supposed to work with you
on my hand? Go to the bathroom? Eat?”
“I think it’s best if we don’t think too much into it,” the puppet
replied. “We’ll figure it out as we go.”
“This is horrible,” Luke muttered.
“At least you got fucking legs!” the puppet said. “I’m stuck on some
moron’s arm.”
The puppet started pulling Luke around the room. Luke struggled at first
to keep up but the puppet was able to drag him to where he wanted to go.
“Jesus hates fags,” the puppet read aloud from a sign. “What the fuck?”