Breakfast with Jesus

I had breakfast with Jesus, but I guess you couldn't call it that since we weren't at the same table. I could see him though and I had that feeling you get when you know you're looking at Jesus. He was talking to the girl with straight brown hair and seemed more interested in her than me. I couldn't blame him and didn't count this weakness against Jesus. I wouldn't call it weakness anyway, more like human interest. Don't go calling this a "human interest" story, though because that's just not it. They were sitting at the end of one of those long tables. It was the fold-up kind so I'm sure that you're not supposed to push it that way. The girl and Jesus must have been talking about this guy at the end of their table. Jesus really couldn't control himself and pointed as he laughed. This guy at the end of their table was cutting his scrambled eggs with a knife but I guess his plate was deceptively smooth and the knife slipped causing his right hand to knock a glass of orange juice onto his lap. It pretty much got all over him. I didn't want to stare too long since this guy at the end of their table was facing my direction. I ended up just swinging my head back and forth, as if I were scanning the breakfast area for my friend Tom, while my eyes remained focused on this guy. He never knew. I suppose that his name was Peter, this guy. Jesus eventually lost his interest in Peter and started to play footsies with the girl. It must have hurt because he had his Birkenstocks on. I momentarily forgot about Jesus while I ate my chocolate frosted yellow cake doughnut and that's something I just had to do. At the end I decided to try and follow the girl's conversation with Jesus. I don't think that they were talking about life's secrets but I strained to listen ust in case. "Mortgage" and "salad" were the only words I could make out. The bitter emains of my coffee went down cold. It was time for me to leave so I put my jacket n. The zipper would remain down until I got outside since that would be just a ittle too hot. I pushed my chair in and walked past Jesus casually, but fast enough so that he wouldn't make me stop to chat. What would I say? He was usually pretty boring, anyway.

Jim McNamee