When People Ask, Tell ’em You Got Hit by a Truck

The savior returned to Earth and entered your tabernacle like Disco Moses, clothed in a broad-lapeled jacket, matching white trousers, stacked heels, puffing a Swisher Sweet from the pew while you hunkered behind the two-tone pulpit, whipping off another buttercream homily sponsored by Smith and Wesson and the Mayflower Moving Company, praising the chief executive Oompa Loompa, the one who says the world belongs to whoremongers and honkies. Did it ever bother you, knowing we’ve heard that horseshit for centuries, gnawing our teeth until the cigar man leapt and barreled into your sorry ass, hijacking the pulpit in all his brimstone pageantry? Now that we got a better look, the risen one resembled Truck Turner from that ’70s movie starring Isaac Hayes—a specialist in bad-assery, unscrolling the truth, assailing us with the truth, telling us, “Hee Haw America’s been discontinued,” while all the people said, “Amen, brother.”