All Christians are Cucks, 2

Well whatta know, I just happen to have the real story of Abram right here on my disk.
What time is it boys and girls? It’s time for Arch Stanton’s Theater – of – the – Absurd!
Tonight the Bible Mystery Theater Presents:

Seester act, a Heist to Remember.

Featuring Pharaoh as the “Good,” the Lord God as the “Bad” and introducing Sarai as the “Ugly.”
It had been cold that day in hell when the Lord God came to Abram saying, “For Christ’s sake Abram, you’re 75 years old! I think it’s about time to pack up your tent and get thy worthless ass out of the country, away from your parents and in-laws! I want you to split for a place I will show you and take that worthless nephew Lot with you. You know, I’ve been thinking of changing his name to Alotless.”
“Oh my God! You mean I’m going to America, the golden honeycomb, were I can be a luftmench living off the goyim?”
“Not exactly, that comes later. For right now I will make of thee a great nation and bless thee and make thy name great – right after we change it to something a bit more goyish, like mebbe Lincoln.”
So Abram packed up his tent and what little stolen junk he had, along with his wife Sarai and nephew Lot. After checking the caravan schedule, Abram took the 5:10 leaving Haran for Canaan.
Like most days in Haran, it was blistering hot when the Caravan conductor shouted, “Alllll Aboard! Last caravan to Canaan! Next stop Beth-el!”
As the camels trundled along, the caravan conductor walked up alongside the Caravaners. “Tickets! Tickets please!”
Abram noticed a fellow traveler on the next camel dressed in black, like a priest, was reading a Torah scroll.
Looking up from the scroll, the tall stranger asked the conductor, “Is it far to Sichem?”
“We should pass there in a few minutes”
Abram leaned towards the traveler saying, “Pardon me father, but you’ve made a mistake. I couldn’t help overhear you’re going to Sichem. I sell a lot of rags around here and I’ve got to tell you you’re on the wrong caravan, this caravan doesn’t stop at Sichem.”
The stranger looked up from his scroll. Looking straight into Abram’s eyes he rasped, “This caravan will stop at Sichem.”
Reaching up he grabbed the camel’s reins and pulled hard. The caravan lurched to a stop precisely at Sichem’s loading ramp, where the stranger calmly stepped onto the platform.
The caravan conductor ran up to the stranger. “Say mister, you just can’t pull the emergency reins like that. If you wanted to get off . . .”
The stranger gave the conductor a cold look.
Chilled, the conductor stammered, “Er, I’m sure the caravan company would be pleased to make any arrangements for passengers to get off . . . ”
“Thanks, I just did.”
“Say I didn’t get your name.”
“Just call me Satan”
The conductor turned yelling, “All right lets go! Let’s get this caravan moving!”
And the caravan lurched on, into a burning sunset.
So Abram passed through the land unto the plain of Moreh and the goy was in that land.
It was there the Lord appeared unto Abram saying, “Unto thy carpet rats I will give this steenkin’ desert.”
So Abram immediately builded an alter unto the lord, mumbling under his breath, “Great! He creates the Garden of Eden and all I get is this steenkin’ desert.”
“What did you say Abram?”
“Er, my lord I was just musing on what a saintly place this is, what with the sunshine and all.”
Abram journeyed on, going towards the South. But there was famine in that land and it was grievous, so Abram turned to his wife Sarai. “Sweetheart, I think we’ll lay over in Egypt for a while; maybe hang out by the pool at the Dunes.”
And it came to pass, when he was come near to enter into Egypt, that he said unto Sarai his wife, “Behold now, I know that thou art a fair woman to look upon; behold, even at your advanced age, thou art a hottie . . .”
Sarai gave Abram a pained look. “Abram, are you blind? Look at me I’m seventy five years old. Even with my overnight face cream, who would find me fair to look at?”
Abram interrupted impatiently, “I know that, but if you will let me finish . . . now where was I? Oh yeah, Behold now, I know that thou art a fair woman to look upon. Therefore, it shall come to pass, when the Egyptians shall see thee, that they shall say, This is his wife and they will kill me, but they will save thee alive. Say, I pray thee, thou art my sister: that it may be well with me for thy sake; and my soul shall live because of thee.”
“Jesus Abram, where did you learn English?”
“Oy Vey! Always with the nagging! Enough already! Now repeat after me, that thou art my sister . . .”
“Thou art my seester.”
“No! No! No! You must say ‘He is my brother!’”
“He is my brudder.”
“Better”
“Waaaait a minute Abram, you’re telling me these guys will murder you if they know you’re my husband”
“Yeah, is that so hard to believe?”
“You’re telling me that when strangers come into this place, if they are married the husband is summarily executed because his seventy five year old wife is too hot to handle?”
“Well – yeah.”
“Isn’t that a bit if a stretch? Personally, I find it kind of hard to believe.”
“Dammit Sarai! Just follow the goddamned script will ya? You are my sister, so it’s not like we’re lying or anything. ”
“Ok already! But I want to know why are you are dying to get into this place.”
“Oy Vey! Always with the nagging! Enough already! Here are some new robes I sto . . . er, borrowed from that gentile storekeeper back in Sichem. These will show off your considerable profile, I want you to put them on – and dear, put on some makeup will ya?”
As Sarai changed robes, Abram flashed on the event that had brought him to this place. It was as if the Lord had come to him in a dream . . .
“AB-RAM! AB-RAM! Wake up dammit! We have work to do.”
“Oh – my – god, not you again!”
Mocking Abram, the Lord God sneered “yes it’s me again.” Then shifting to his usual wrathful, vengeful tone, the Lord boomed, “Now listen up meathead I got a plan that will make us all rich. It’s a little thing dreamed up by the College of Knowledge social engineering program, it’s called an ‘extortion racket.’ Come on, let’s get the hell out of this tent where we can talk.”
“Now here’s the plan meathead, you’re going into town and you’re going tell everyone Sarai is your seester. It won’t be long until Pharaoh will hit up on her and . . .”
“Waaaait a minute, Lord God Almighty, you’re telling me Pharaoh is going to lust after my seventy five year old wife? How’s that again?”
“Look meathead, it’s a little thing we dreamed up over at the illusion department we call ‘virtual realty.’ I won’t bore you with the details, but trust me, Sarai will look like a twenty year old blond shiksa after we digitize her image.”
“Wow can you do that for me too?”
“Sorry pal, only one illusion per customer. Now here’s the good part, after Pharaoh has wronged you by sporting with your wife . . .”
“Sporting?”
“Yeah, you know, golfing, tennis, that sort of thing.”
“Sarai plays tennis?”
“Dammit meathead! Just follow the script will ya?”
“Why do you keep calling me meathead?”
“Because you twit, you’re going to be the poster boy for our new, improved sacrificial system, coming soon to a Tabernacle near you. It’s based on the meat sacrifice hence your new title – MEATHEAD! You meathead.”
“Now shaadupa’ yo mouth and listen. Okay, after the first match on the courts, I’ll walk up to Pharaoh and say: Hey pal, whatta ya think you’re doing sporting with Abrams wife? And he’ll say, “gee look, I’m sorry . . . Hey! who the hell are you anyway? Guards!
“Then I’ll begin to plague Pharaoh’s house with the usual plagues, mice, frogs, lice – always lice, ‘cause Jews always carry lice with them, that’s why they invented Zyklon B you know; so at first he won’t suspect. But Pharaoh is no dummy, he’ll wise up quick, so then I’ll go to him in a dream and do what we call ‘muscling the mark.’ We’ll slip a small reed recorder under his pillow and whisper: ‘Pharaoh, Pharaoh, pony up for the wrong you have done to Abram or me and my boys are gonna breaka’ yo knee caps. Such a deal we have for you, pay up and we let you keepa’ your life.’ After that, you can bet Pharaoh will come round to delivering the goods – or else!”
“I dunno”
“By the God Kike’e – just do it! If you screw this up Abram, just remember, we know the playground your kids frequent.”
“Kids? I don’t have any kids.”
“We know that meathead, but you’re 75 and only as old as you feel. So keep the faith baby, don’t worry, do your part and we’ll deliver the kids.”
And so it came to pass, that, when Abram was come into Egypt, the Egyptians beheld the woman that she was very fair. The princes also of Pharaoh saw her, and commended her before Pharaoh: and the woman was taken into Pharaoh’s house. And he entreated Abram well for her sake: and he had sheep, and oxen, and he asses, and menservants, and maidservants, and she asses, and camels. And the LORD plagued Pharaoh and his house with great plagues because of Sarai Abram’s wife. And Pharaoh called Abram, and said, What is this that thou hast done unto me? Why didst thou not tell me that she was thy wife? Why saidst thou, She is my seester? So I might have taken her to me to wife: now therefore behold thy wife, take her, and go thy way. And Pharaoh commanded his men concerning him: and they sent him away, and his wife, and all that he had. And Abram went up out of Egypt, he, and his wife, and all that he had, and Lot with him, into the south.
Epilogue
As the sun grew high in the sky, Abram sipped a cool drink under the canopy shade of the royal litter carried by Pharaoh’s former menservants. Surveying the sheep, and oxen, and he asses, and menservants, and maidservants, and she asses, and camels, he put his arm around Sarai, “You know baby, I think this extortion scheme the Lord God cooked up is going to work out just fine.”
Still doubtful, Sari asked, “Abram, why did Pharaoh give you all this wealth instead of just killing you when they found out I was your wife?”
“Shaadup!”
Tonight’s Bible Mystery theater has been an unabashed tribute to Sergio Leone who would have undoubtedly written a better script.