Page 15 - Billy Graham in Heaven

8 Billy Graham's Glorious Jam
at other Budweiser empties in the trash. “What you need is to go to detox and rehab and stop selling this silly stuff.” Newt was taken aback, but not much. He grasped half of his lower lip with his teeth, too tired from four hours of hauling sheet rock that morning to respond quickly. It was obvious to him that Jake was depressed, but Jake’s anguish
was the problem of a man of leisure.
“Nothing silly about selling 5,000 `In God We Distrust’
bumper stickers to American Atheist magazine,” Newt chuckled half-heartedly. He put his long, blue-jeaned legs gracefully on the counter, leaned back in his chair and slid his strong, thickly-veined arms behind his head.
“And you say you respect religion,” preached Jake. “I think you’re mainly an alcohol-powered chaos.”
“Wrong,” drawled Newt. “I respect Greta, who believes in God. Besides, I ain’t putting anyone out of work or working anyone to death. This pampering people who aren’t interested in earth life needs to stop. As that bumper sticker over there says, `To Hell with Heaven.’”
Greta was Newt’s semi-fundamentalist Christian wife and the owner of Ye Olde Theology Shoppe.
“Look at my masterpiece,” Newt commanded, pointing dramatically at a hologram bumper sticker of Billy Graham. Graham was smiling while holding a Bible up and out toward the viewer. “Now walk by it as if you were driving by on the freeway.”
Jake did. Graham’s Bible disappeared and he pointed straight out from the sticker in 3-D. A red-white-and-blue top hat appeared on his head, and a white goatee on his chin. His tasteful brown suit changed into gaudy red- white-and-blue stripes. “I WANT YOU,” Graham said.