Look, kid. Maybe I was born yesterday, but I’m no fucking rube. Who the fuck do you think you are? Are you shitting me? What is this “I-have-no-gift-to-bring” crap? Do you have any fucking idea who I am? Look around. Lemme ask you something: does this look like any other birth to you? See how everyone’s glowing here, like actually glowing real light? What part of this halo do you not understand? And oh yeah, here’s a clue: there’s a fucking CHOIR OF ANGELS in the sky. Try and tell me you missed that on your way in the door.
Hey. HEY! Shut the fuck up. [sighs] Give me a second here — I’m just trying to understand how it got into your sick, twisted brain that banging on a fucking drum is some kind of tribute to me, the SAVIOR OF ALL MANKIND. That’s right, you hear that? Feel stupid now? You ain’t seen shit. And come on, I’m a baby. A newborn fucking baby. Do you think I want some brat around me banging on a drum? Well as it happens, I’ve just arrived from a rather taxing voyage, what with having been astrally projected into this lady’s womb and then squeezed out over the course of some pretty gut-wrenching hours. You ever seen a birth before? Holy shit. I’m guessing the phrase “miracle of birth” was thought up by some absentee baby daddy who was off smoking a cigar when it was go time. I tell you what hombre, that shit is grueling. So you’ll excuse me if I’m not in the mood for your rum-pa-pum-pum bullshit.
Don’t you look away from me asshole, I’m talking to you. Look — see those three over there? Kings, I shit you not. Fucking KINGS. Not one king, with a box of chocolates or some shit. Three. Fucking. Kings. This classy little combo just swooped in, slick as shit, each with a different present for me. That is style, my friend. Do you have any idea how hard it is to coordinate scheduling and get that kind of logistical shit together in these times? Never mind these guys are fucking legit kings, with regal business to do back home. All the same, look what they did 1.) they somehow got together on this plan, don’t ask me how. 2.) they worked out some pretty sophisticated astronomical directions — also, totally in the dark on that one, and 3.) they traveled across the fucking DESERT on camels for DAYS. Can you imagine how much sand they’ve got jammed up their nooks and crannies? I mean, look at them: that’s some haggard motherfuckers right there. And between you and me: honestly, their gifts don’t really do much for me. But you know what? They tried. But hold the phone! Here comes some dumpy kid, with a weak-ass story about how poor he is and hang on, there’s drums involved. Well, shiver me fucking timbers. I hope you’ll understand if I don’t break into spontaneous applause.
It’s not like my birth was a surprise either. Ever heard of the Old Testament, more commonly known in these times as THE TESTAMENT? It’s late-breaking news, jimbo. John the Baptist? Ring a bell? Don’t look at me like you haven’t heard that name before. We’re talking signs, symbols, prophesy, all that jazz. I know news doesn’t exactly travel fast, but I think it’s safe to say by now there’s a bit of a buzz about the CHRIST CHILD, KING OF THE JEWS. In fact I do believe that a fellow you may know by the name of King Herod is out there at this very minute, killing every newborn in town trying to get to me. I’d say that’s a public profile.
Aw fuck, now you’re crying. Alright, come over here. Come on now, right up to the cradle, I can’t sit up yet. Listen: you seem like a good kid. You got a dumb idea in your head, you’re probably drunk, I know how it goes. Just learn from this, okay? I’m gonna let you in on something: a lot of heavy shit is about to go down. You’re gonna probably want to clear out of town for a while. And while you’re at it, practice that drum, okay? And please: way off where no one can hear, cause I’ll tell you right now, you’re pretty terrible. But practice makes perfect. Not Jesus perfect, but you know… listenable. There you go, wipe those tears away. You’re gonna be fine. Alright. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep. First though, lemme give you some advice: register the copyright to that song. It’s catchy, I’m not gonna lie. Get someone with a nice voice to sing it, I’m talking a nice voice — and another drummer, preferably — and it could keep your family in serious shekels for a long time. Okay? You hear me? Good kid. And just cause I’m a nice guy, I’m gonna grant you everlasting life and wash your soul clean of sin. You’ll thank me later. Now go on, get outta here, you. Help yourself to a mint on your way out.