The Biggest Lie Ever Told

His name doesn’t really matter, but every fictional character needs one, so, how about John? No, wait; that’s already a name in use by one of his cult followers. Actually, naming him is impossible. It’s incumbent to just make up his name since everything else is fictional, too. Lee is an appropriate name because it’s so close to Lie.

Lee was born anywhere and everywhere, but really his birthplace resides and occupies a small little space in one’s brain. Born in the brain similarly of so many, then brainwashed that the birthplace was really in a quaint, little place on a day that wasn’t really his birthday. This birthplace is also not clear and he has no birth certificate to confirm where it is. Let’s just say, it’s a little town where people are very cruel, especially on a particular snowy night, where it never snows, in a barn, on a date that is really just the Earth’s winter solstice.

Though his parents were impoverished, young and had no fame, somehow animals knew about, found, and gathered at the barn. Even three kings traveled from afar bearing gifts for the illegitimate little boy. They didn’t have maps, but arrived at the exact location on camel back by following a certain star which served as their compass.

Lee’s Mother, Melanie, was an underage, married, ahem, virgin, ahem. She was the rape victim of the baby to whom she just gave birth. Melanie’s gullible husband bought every word of her story. His name doesn’t matter because he’s only in this story to fill in that part as an extra. He wised up to Melanie’s big lie and probably left her because he was never mentioned again. Carpenters get no respect.

*******

Lee grew up in whatever place one wants it to be, but Melanie didn’t have or keep a baby book updated to let us know when he took his first steps or his first potty-trained-poop. His years as a baby, toddler, and child are not important unlike most every other baby born. Odd, in light of the weird rumors that sweet little, innocent Lee was his mother’s rapist who became her son once he was born. Yet, people then and now accept it as gospel.

Somehow, his birth was predicted by Bronze-Age hut dwellers hundreds of years before it is rumored to have occurred. They somehow also knew everything about Lee and wrote a book filled with bizarre tales to explain phenomena and complex topics they wanted to be true. Just to name a few, they felt it necessary to explain thunder, how insignificant women are, and slavery is a great idea.

"Good morning hut dwellers. Today let’s write some crazy explanations for three topics. Let’s start with thunder. Who has an idea that worshippers will believe? Hey there, Zeke, you have your hand up. What’s your idea to explain thunder for the believers?"

"Okay, Zac, I got this. Here’s how it’s gonna’ go. Thunder is actually the angry voice of God. Boom. So, stop whatever you’re doing, God is mad and he needs money. This way it will also explain why tithing is so necessary to get worshippers their ticket to heaven."

"That’s pure genius, Zeke! I knew you’d nail that one!"

"Uhh, I never mentioned a nail, Zac."

"Not important, Zeke, that phrase will become common much later in the future."

"Gotcha', Zac" Zeke said with a sloppy salute.

"Who’s next?" Zac asked the scribes.

Gabe stood up excitedly knocking one of the scrolls all around them into the Dead Sea. "Oops, Zac, but don’t worry about it. Those were all wrong and we planning on throwing them all out anyway. But I digress, my personal favorite that I’ve drafted is about, you know, those pesky creatures — women. First, I’ll start with how the hell did they get here in the first place? God probably created a man who was defective."

With that statement, Jedidiah jumped up and said, "No, no no! God doesn’t make any mistakes, Gabe! God probably took a part of a man for which he has backups, such as a rib. Soo, women owe us men big time for even being here! We can get a lot mileage and new male worshippers with that male-dominance explanation."

Everybody in the hut gasped with overwhelming excitement over Jedidiah’s explanation rewarding him with a standing ovation.

"You scribes kill me with your fascinating imaginations!" Zac gushed. Who’s next? Think big! We’re on a roll here! In fact, speaking of rolls, be careful about those rolled up parchments. They’re lying everywhere, no pun intended, but we’ve got to get organized."

"I’ve got an even better story," exclaimed Levi. "Unemployment is out of control and these building projects are getting bigger and more labor intensive. If we write, God believes slavery is a good idea, we can corner the market using cheap labor. It’ll be a win/win situation."

"Great progress, men," Zac proclaimed! "On the count of three, let's dump all the rest of the scrolls. One, two, three..."

Who could doubt their wisdom was correct? After all, they also believed the Earth was flat, had no clue where the sun went at night, or what an atom was.

*******

Lee’s stepfather, Joseph, since his real father was himself, taught him carpentry before the age of twelve. Evidently, as an arrogant teenager, he had the chutzpah to conduct lectures to the religious scholars at the time blasting away their theological knowledge like a punk, which took them all more years of study to acquire than Lee had been alive. Insulted by this upstart teenager who clearly was seeking attention like a social media influencer, they told him: "Go start your own cult! Who do you think you are — the first coming of Christ?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. I know I am, as I know I am my Father. We are omnipotent."

"Do you have any proof of these wild delusions of grandeur?" fired back one scholar.

"No, but ya’ got to have faith in me, myself, and I, or we will never let you into heaven."

"You claim omnipotence, yet all you could come up with to prove your existence and save us all from our sins was to impregnate, via rape, an underage, married virgin, ahem. How many sins did you commit with just that one action?"

"None. It was my right as the brilliant 13.8-billion-year-old architect of the Universe."

"Who is your creator?"

"I don’t have a creator. I am the only creator. I was just always there in the darkness, so bored, with nothing to do. With a big boom, I just said the magic words."

"Abracadabra?"

"No. Let there be light."

Angry at the scholars reaction and their advice to go start his own cult, Lee took their advice and created an explosive cult which is still spreading like the universe.

I know what I’ll do. I’ll gather a few good male sycophants to help me get perhaps millions to join my cult to show how omnipotent I really am in order to convince them to worship me 24/7/365, Lee imagined. Let’s see… I’ll need at least six, no a dozen sounds better. I’ll call them The Dirty Dozen. Nah, bad idea. That might start a copyright lawsuit. Oh, I know — 12 Angry Men. Hmm, nope, same problem. Got it! The Twelve Tub-Thumpers! My Thumpers will definitely tub-thump the idea that "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me," (aka, me). Nothing like building a following through instilling fear of not getting into the pearly gates after death. Yes! I’ll scare them into blind faith and the belief there is an afterlife! Poor fools who don’t understand that the definition of afterlife is death. Nothing happens after death, especially life. What does happen is "ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

So, the rebellious know-it-all teenager set out on this mission to manifest himself as God’s son who was also his Father, who was also his Mother’s rapist, and was in fact, all of them.

*******

There’s no clarification about Lee’s education, but apparently, he loved performing magic tricks. Some Vegas-residence-worthy favorites Lee had up his sleeve were changing water into wine, walking on water, healing cripples, and raising people from the dead. Criss Angel’s Mind Freak’ had nothing on Lee’s Faith Leaps.

Lee still found time to travel on foot, without the benefit of Birkenstock, speaking like a hippie about peace and love. Evidently, he also had time to disrupt the system of commerce.

Those hut dwellers were very knowledgeable about Lee as a grown man. They knew every detail and all his conversations even though they were not around, didn’t witness or hear any of them, and without social media to spread the word.

*******

After several years of winning debates with old, worn-out codgers who believed they thought they knew everything there was to know about theology, Lee was getting bored to bloody tears. So, he went on another one of his many walks and was approaching the church. Noticing the church was overrun by a swarm of unholy, ragtag money changers, Lee furiously screamed out at them, "What the hell is going on, here? You’ve turned this place of worship into a den of thieves! Get out! GET OUT!!!" Blank stares infuriated him even more, because he realized they didn’t want to stop. He stopped it by kicking over the tables, slapping money out of their greedy hands, and single-handedly kicked them all out.

The following morning, after he woke up in the local jail, the constable told him "You’re free to go" and started laughing. When he walked out the jailhouse door, he understood why the constable was laughing. All the money changers were waiting with signs that said the same thing he had told them at the church: "Get out! GET OUT!!!"

Lee wasn’t bothered at all and figured this was the perfect time to start his own gig. He shouted back, "Thank for following my plan. I’m going to start a new chapter in my odyssey. Even better, I will make this chapter of my life into an entirely new and improved book." Lee started uproariously laughing at them still persecuting his good name. He waved goodbye and like all great superstars say after their performance, "Thank you. Thank you very much!"

Exiled now, Lee wasn’t dissuaded because he knew it was just part of the plan all along between me, myself and I. Free now to continue his mission, he traversed near and far to gain even more loyal followers.

The prophecies are very verbose on Lee's adult life. For example, there was a particularly disturbing event after a big dinner in a garden with his all of his loyal tub-thumpers. For the previous three years, the group, especially Lee, had been getting a lot of grief and criticism as a result of his popularity overshadowing the bourgeoisie. On that fateful night after the dinner in a garden, one of the tub-thumpers, who was a particularly unloyal and slimy member — a real Judas, you might say, fingered Lee to the local gendarmes as the ringleader for a bag of blood money he acted as though he didn’t really want.

"Lee, my dear friend, I've been searching for you all evening. Give me a big kiss!" Let me introduce you to some of my other pals."

As the gendarmes pounced on Lee, he glared at Judas knowingly and fired back, "Judas, you just betrayed me with a kiss? I'll go with your pals, but why don't you just hang around for the rest of the evening."

At last, the bourgeoisie had Lee exactly where they wanted him. They had clout and demanded that Lee be turned over to the feds and their leader, P. Pilot, to be executed as a heretic. At Lee’s arraignment, Pilot queried, "Lee, are you really God, as I’ve been hearing?"

"I’ll answer only with a riddle. You have me mistaken for my Father, who impregnated my mother, who was my wife when I was ghost, yet I am all three."

"What do you mean by that? That is not an answer! I don’t even know why they dragged your disgusting presence before me! This case belongs back with the local authorities of your race! Bailiff, remove this imbecile and send him to K. Harrod."

"Ahh, here is, the King of Jews, I hear. Tell me Lee, why did you stumble down my hallway? For a King, you appear so small and insignificant — not like a King at all!"

"That’s what you say."

"Oh, how delightful. I’ve also got a really smart-ass, wise cracker in my presence. It was not in your best interests to boil my blood, tonight."

"Yes, it was. It is part of my plan. Thank you for participating."

"You really need to be taught a lesson, you spoiled, entitled brat. Guards! Forty lashes, now upon the back of this impudent, ineffective, so-called savior. He can’t even save himself," he roared, laughing so hard it echoed through the hallways of the massive court. The guards roughly grabbed the now chained and shackled Lee dragging him to the dungeon. After forty lashes with a leather strap, Lee could not move because he had passed out from the unbearable pain.

Harrod summoned Lee’s accusers to report the vicious punishment he had imposed on Lee. The crowd booed Harrod and started chanting, "Crucify him, crucify him, crucify him, NOW!"

"Ahh, I see that’s not enough and I couldn’t agree more. How about this: Guards, arrest him and crucify him in the morning, but he must also drag his crucifixion cross along with wearing a crown of thorns especially made for the King of Jews!"

The crowd cheered loudly and started dancing and celebrating in the streets all night long to await their desired outcome of removing Lee from the face of the Earth.

*******

Morning arrived too quickly for Lee as he was in intractable pain from the deep gashes all over his back. Nobody cared about him at all and offered nothing to soothe his horrific wounds. He heard loud footsteps and voices getting closer to his jail cell. The unlocking of the door emitted a deafening echo in Lee's ears warning of his impending, brutal death.

"Good, you’re awake."

"I never slept."

"No sleep? Good, the flogging did its job. You were supposed to suffer. You will have a very long sleep, soon enough! Now is the time to take your last journey. The king has a special crown for you, the fake king, who was faking," he laughed, making fun of him like a child bully. "I’m honored to be the chosen one to place it on your head." The guard took the crown, made with the biggest thorns found in the area, and it was too small, but he delighted in pushing it on with brute force deeply into Lee's flesh immediately causing blood to stream down his head and face.

"How does the King of Jews like his crown?"

Lee remained silent.

"You are quite insolent, aren’t you. That will end soon. Not soon enough for me."

"Nor me, either," Lee snapped back stealing himself for the ordeal he knew he was facing.

Once on the streets, a giant crucifix was placed on his back by guards. One of them, merely said, "Walk." Lee did exactly that in anguish until he finally reached the killing-ground destination. There were already two men who had only been roped to their cross. That was never to be the case for Lee. With the cross on the ground, the soldier ordered him to to lay on top of it. He pulled out three spikes and began by nailing each hand. "Cross your feet, now!" The soldier drove the final nail through both feet heartlessly. Lee remained silent even as the nails ripped bigger holes in his wounds when they raised the cross straight up. Cruelly, another soldier speared him in the ribs to hasten death. Such an odd gesture in light of their desire to cause suffering.

Lee’s girlfriend, Maggie and mother/wife, Melanie, visited to say goodbye. They wept as Lee breathed his last breath saying "Father, why have you forsaken me?" Three days later, Lee emerged from a cave pushing away a giant rock that had sealed the opening.

*******

Lee slowly walked to the edge of the stage and addressed the silent crowd directly. "In this fairytale, I played the son of God. In the real world, you have only faith as your savior. Proof? You have none, except for a stolen pagan holiday and an Easter bunny. Stage Manager -- cue, Easter bunny. Aww, everybody, look. What a cute, little, chocolate Easter bunny. Lee picks it up and bites its ear off. If I were real, and you continue as though it were true, this unreal story will forever have the greatest impact ever told." The audience gasps, then chants, "Crucify him!"

*******

Author’s Notes

I wrote this story as an atheist. Atheists know there are no gods. My story is as unreal as the KJV. Both stories still exist, despite the lack of any supporting, empirical, iota of proof. It is not a serious theological treatise, but a satirical take on the familiar theme. The grand pronouncements were rendered into modern-day concerns, and absurdly literal interpretations were found for well-known metaphors.

For those curious, liberties were taken with the original text's details for comedic purposes. The timeline has been compressed, the geography fudged, and the casting owes more to modern sensibilities than first-century Palestine. No persons or animals were harmed, although a chocolate Easter bunny did lose one fictitious ear. My intent was to stretch brain cells well beyond their realistic limits to meet the challenge Vocal imposed to: "Write a story where something unreal still has real impact."