Chief Bernie could only point at the table. The morning crew and patrons of Donette’s were witnessing a genuine miracle.
“You didn’t do a Lovelace on the breakfast sausage, did you? I don’t do Heimlich.” Dauna the waitress and owner of Donette’s looked down at Bernie’s plate of sunny-side eggs, and did indeed see the smiling face of Jesus in all of his shining glory. Bernie was nearly choking. Unable to grasp the following conversation between the waitress and the eggs.
“You didn’t RSVP!” Dauna told the eggs. “Are you coming to my wedding in a few weeks?”
Bernie felt paralyzed.
“I’m working on my comeback TV special, shark goddess,” said the runny Messiah. “How about I show up at your honeymoon, instead?”
“Hardy har, smart ass. Stick to preaching.”
“Why are you flirting with Bernie?” asked Jesus. “Poor guy. My father, Art in Heaven (Yes, his name IS Art) is really enjoying Bernie’s human soap opera.”
“Lupta, the sage of Kupaio,” said Dauna, “told me that I must protect the human. I don’t know why. Look at this busted up schmo, J.C. He’s feeling really down. Right now, he’s the saddest man in the world. I’m just trying to cheer up the dumb lug. Can I get you some coffee or something, chicken fruit?” she said to the sunny-side son of God.
“Chicken fruit? Oh. Oh, yeah the eggs thing. Funny. Have you been behaving yourself?”
“I’ve been trying as hard as I can — NOT TO. So, what brought your most eminent and yoke-y ass down here, today?”
“I need to hone my rusty social skills before my big comeback. I’ll be borrowing your cop friend here. I’ve got big plans for Bernie. It looks like we’re all gonna be pals.”
Dauna looked at the stunned chief and giggled. “You hear that Bernie?” She took a drag off of her cigarette. “The kid says we’re all gonna be …bosom buddies.” Dauna pulled Bernie’s dumb-struck head in close to her, gliding her soft breast against his cheek.
“Stop that. Ahem, I mean amen,” said Jesus. “What do you think that you’re doing? Commandment number eight: Thou shalt not steal. Are you listening to me, Dauna? Do not steal Bernie Benedict’s heart. He’s in pain.”
Dauna turned and addressed the cafe customers. “Excuse me everyone,” She put her hands over her face and pretended to sneeze. “Ah…aH…AH… FUCK!”
“Are you catching another cold because you live in the gutter?” asked Jesus as he brushed away another germinal disk in the yolk.
“No, I’m just allergic to bullshit.”
Bernie crashed face first, into the waitress’ apron. Cool doll that she was, Dauna let Bernie’s head rest in her apron as she lit another cigarette.