I have decided to present the following document without any particular explanatory context…
Jesus strode in from the desert, a tired donkey upon his shoulders. “Attend my donkey!” he shouted. Several peasants rushed in and carried the creature to a place of shade and took turns fanning it with palm fronds.
Jesus laughed a great laugh, and strode into the plaza,”Food!” he demanded.
His apostles attended him. He drank of wine and ate of meat, and a large crowd gathered. They broke bread, ate, drank, laughed, and listened to the stories of his battles in the desert.
For the next few days Jesus was busy settling old debts and checking up on business interests he’d left in the hands of the apostles while he’d been away.
One day someone asked him about his desert journey. “Sit right there,” he said, “And I will tell you of deeds that will parch your throat and quicken your heart!” He stood, announcing “A feast!”
Food was brought out to the square, and the people supped and listened.
Upon the evening, a timid Centurion approached Jesus, followed by a large group of men with torches.
“What business have you with the Great Jesus, young Centurion?”
“Um, Mr. Jesus, sir. You are under arrest.”
“Arrest?!”
One of his apostles whispered into his ear, “Don’t you remember? That’s the reason you went out into the desert in the first place. Because they were going to arrest you. I told you they wouldn’t just forget!”
Jesus turned to the little man, “What? What crime has Jesus committed?”
“That thing with the King’s wife?”
“Ah! Judith! But I told them: she kissed me.”
“Um,” interrupted the Centurion, “The Emperor did not see it that way. The order stands.”
“Very well,” Jesus held out his hands, which were promptly bound, “Jesus does not fear the desert, the law, or even death! I will make short work of this legal system on the ‘morrow!”
For all his reputation as a wise and powerful philosopher, Jesus was not actually familiar with the Roman legal system, and was promptly sentenced to death by crucifixion. This was surprising, since the original charge stood to only impose a large fine and exile from the district.
The Romans were very wary of this Jesus; they had heard of his miracles, and knew of his powers. They had seen him carry his donkey over a single shoulder. When Jesus had invested in a juice franchise, he was dismayed that a blight had destroyed the season’s crop of oranges. Outraged, he smashed a stone upon his head. The frightened stone poured forth a spring of orange juice. He declared himself King of the Juice, and All Juice Everywhere. At his command, stones everywhere spewed forth the tasty drink so high in Vitamin C, and he collected much, in the way of commissions.
Once, when demanding praise for his newest and most fashionable garments, he was outraged that there had been one among the crowd that was not staggered in awe. He’d spat upon that blind man, and ordered him to see.
Then there was the time he had kicked a dead man until it got up and ran away.
Jesus’ donkey, now recovered, watched sadly as its master, flanked by thirty soldiers on each side, carried the heavy cross up the hill. At the summit, he was fastened to the cross and raised upright for all to see. The King bid the crowd to throw eggs, tomatoes, and bacon at the bound man, “You have had your Last Supper, now enjoy your Last Breakfast!” The King laughed, “It is unfortunate you will not live long enough to enjoy your Last Lunch!” At Jesus he flung his sticky beverage, “King of the Juice, indeed!”
“You think this can stop Jesus?” he bellowed, “I will be back in just three days!”
“So, Monday?”
“No, Sunday!”
“That’s in two days.”
“I’m counting today.”
“So, on the third day.”
“You will regret playing semantics with the Great Jesus, puny mortal!”
At that, a soldier stepped in and struck him dead with a spear-thrust of great competence. And so, it seemed, there was an end to Jesus.
The King watched them take Jesus to the cave. One of Jesus’ old enemies, a giant rabbit, had been waiting there at the order of the King. The rabbit was so large that when they first met, Jesus queried “That is a Beast, or Bunny?”
Since Jesus spoke with such conviction, people took the question as a proclamation, and thus, henceforth called it the Beastor Bunny. The name stuck, and the bunny, whose real name was Orville, vowed revenge upon the man.
Once Jesus was in the cave, the Beastor Bunny shat a large boulder, blocking the entrance. This was the last stone the rabbit ever shat. This seemed appropriate, since it had accidentally killed Jesus’ favourite whore, when it shat the first stone.
“Stay there until he is nothing but bones,” ordered the King. The rabbit nodded, twitching its nose gravely.
Jesus was alive again before the rabbit had shat the boulder, so fast was his healing ability.
But he could not leave the cave just yet, since he had promised to rise on the third day. It made sense, because people would appreciate him more if he was gone for a while.
But now he was bored. So very, very bored. Buddha had taught him about meditating, but Jesus had meditated enough! And besides, meditating was even more boring than being bored!
He had a Sudoku in his pocket, but no pencil! And for all his powers, Jesus wasn’t very good at keeping numbers in his head. He got that from his Father.
On the third day, he decided to move the rock, but it would not budge. That fat bunny must have been leaning on it. “Remove thy rump from off this rock, foul bunny!’ he shouted. But he could hear nothing from the other side. Jesus stamped his foot with such rage and force that the Earth trembled, and sent forth a spring of lava deep from its core. The lava exploded into the cave and burst out the top of the mountain. Jesus rode this fountain of rocky fire down to the site of his crucifixion, while the lava swallowed up friends and foes alike. There were many wagons of goods and livestock on their way to the next town, and only the chickens escaped. They now fluttered everywhere, seeking a safe place to land, hopping in squawks until they reached ground unmolten.
The Beastor Bunny came charging up the hill. Jesus grimaced, took it up by the neck, and stuffed chicken after chicken down its throat.
The hens panicked, and the Beastor Bunny found itself laying egg after egg in misery. Jesus laughed heartily at the humiliation of his foe, and laughed even more heartily when little birds sprang forth from the eggs. The Bunny ran away, leaving a trail of hatching eggs in its wake. Jesus threw his head back, and began reciting his own many virtues.
But before he had finished doing this (for the virtues of Jesus are many), the massive Bunny returned with a full legion of Roman Soldiers.
Jesus howled at the sky, welcoming the challenge. Storm clouds rose up behind him and there was a rumbling of thunder. The Beastor Bunny launched itself into the air, it’s great buck teeth hungry for blood.
Jesus grasped the cross from which he’d hung, and plucked it from the earth. He struck the bunny with such great force that it’s tail was knocked clean off its body. All rabbits hence have had cotton-like tufts of hair, where their tails should be.
He then held the cross to the sky and shouted, “I! Have! The Power!” Lightning crashed upon the cross and rendered it into a great sword while all of Jesus’ clothes were burned away. Jesus regarded the shining new sword in all his glorious nudity, and then cast his eyes upon his foes.
A rooster had been struck by a stray bolt of this lightning, and had grown to the size of a stallion. It crowed with a yearning for the blood of its enemies. Jesus crowed in answer, and so great was the thunder in his voice that every woman in sight of the mountain bore a child on the spot.
Jesus mounted the beast, and rode into the legion, smiting any soldier that came into range of his shining wrath.
When they were all dead, Jesus took the Beastor Bunny by the ears and dragged it to the great boulder it had shat not three days previous. With a manly grunt, he struck the stone with his own head, and shat into the crevice thus created. With a yell of triumph he stuffed the wretched creature into the crevice and drove the sword in after it, sealing it for a thousand years.
Then Jesus called down the storm clouds, stepped upon them, and soared away.
The wind took him North, and he found himself alone at the Pole. He ate the Great Chicken and relieved himself upon the land; tiny servants sprung forth from the yellow snow, and Jesus called them elves.
He declared himself the ruler of this cold lonely land, and was soon challenged by the five ruling polar bears. He defeated them all (thus crushing the first large-scale functioning democracy), proud that he had done so without the dangerous teeth or claws held by his foes.
He took the claws of his challengers, and turned them into one hundred Flying Reindeer, most of which he ate or enslaved. The elves clapped at their master’s cunning, and spoke often of his great victory sans claws. He liked this so much he took the name Sans Claws, which, due to poor transcription, non-standard spelling, and sloppy conversation at the time, he eventually became known as Santa Clause.
In later times, when both slavery and violence were less well thought of, Jesus declared that he was the Protector and Keeper of the Flying Reindeer. He announced that since his Flying Reindeer had been born of claws, he had taken the title “Saint of Claws” or “Santa Clause”, thus effectively re-writing the origin of his own name for the purposes controlling his public image.
He painted his clothes in the blood of his fallen rivals, and carried with him always a sack of their remains. Over time, the luxurious lifestyle allowed by thousands of elvish slaves resulted in an incredible gain in girth and weight, while the ice, cold, and snow rendered his cheeks rosy, and his beard white.
Pleased with his new look, he sent some of his elves to start the Coca Cola company. Their most successful product, Coca Cola, is actually Santa’s (Jesus’) urine. When there is a higher demand for it, he simply eats more snow and cookies, pisses into more bottles, and ships them out. (It is interesting here to note that while elves will often pose with cans of Coke, they will never drink them. Since they are themselves born of Santa’s piss, they view the drink as a sibling, and its consumption as cannibalism. The broad consumption of the beverage among we humans stokes fires of anger and resentment to a depth we do not remotely fathom. Discussion of our final fate and judgement are whispered upon whenever elves sit amongst themselves at the fire)
This is why we leave Cookies for Santa: so there will be enough sugar in the coke, so that he can continue to run a successful company which pays for the toys he gives away at Christmas, which is his Birthday. All those cookies basically provide him with all the sugar he needs to produce a year’s supply of Coca Cola (Classic).
Centuries after the original battle with the Roman Legions and the Great Beastor Bunny, a youth named Arthur would pull the sword from the boulder and become King while inadvertently freeing the Beastor Bunny. Upon springing forth from the stone, The Beastor Bunny laid hundreds of eggs, from which as many chicks sprang forth. The people, who were in the midst of a famine, took up and ate most of these creatures with much celebration and delight.
They took this as a good omen for the coming times under their new King, and worshipped the bunny for his bountiful bestowings. These people didn’t write or spell particularly well, either, and an ambiguous B smudged into an E resulted in the Lagomorph in question forever being known as the Easter (rather than the Beastor) Bunny.
Easter, therefore, was celebrated with a great slaughter of chickens each year.
However, a powerful group of Vegetarians and Animal Rights Activists decided that they did not approve of this needless annual slaughter. They reasoned that it would be easier to divert people from killing all of those chickens if a preferable option were made available.
They thus launched a thousand ships and discovered the Americas, where they oppressed fellow humans and acquired coffee, potatoes, corn, and chocolate. José in Marketing had a brother-in-law who had taken control of a cacao plantation; and so it was that chocolate was promoted as the appropriate food for the Easter Season. And instead of breeding bunnies and eating chickens, people were simply encouraged to eat and buy chocolate in the shape of such creatures.
The passage of centuries did not quell the bad blood between the fat man and the rabbit. And that is why, to this day, Christmas and Easter are mortal enemies. And because a rabbit never forgives, and Santa never forgets, so it will be forevermore.