Obsidian Crosses

Jesus was a fucking drug overlord! The thought hit me as soon as I woke up. Why did I not think of it before?? That's why Peter was so clueless, he was strung out on Jesus' magic mushroom stash. People have been deluded for centuries because of some hippie and his drug-induced cult. I grabbed my AK-47, kicked open the door with my converse boots and pointed the barrel at ICP and Jesus himself. Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope looked exhausted, as if they had spent the last night sleepless. Peter was there too, with a peeling clown face and faygo stains over his XXL clown shirt. It was a scene from a horror movie. "Yo, what up, fam'?" Violent J greeted amiably. I told him to shut the fuck up and get on his knees. "I am though, I'm worshiping da great Milenko." He said. Jesus wasn't doing anything to refute this insane belief.

"You, you're a fucking mushroom master! Don't you care that you're lying to people?" I shouted at Jesus. There was no change in his expression. He looked quite solemn.

"Heather, it's not what you think?" Jesus asked. I ignored him and ran out of the door. It felt as if my black heart was being broken in two. I introduced a religious leader to the salvation of emo music, and what did I get in return? A fucking terrible drug trip and the break-down of my idol, Billie Joe. As soon as I was outside, I bumped straight into Mark Hoppus and the rest of Blink-182, which had most of their body parts sawed off. Mark Hoppus was missing his right ear. The ground everywhere was littered with body parts. Pop-punk was going to die, if I didn't do something quick. "Bro, you gotta help us.... Billie Joe...he's lost his fucking mind." Mark Hoppus whimpered. I patted him gently on the head and stuffed inside ICP's tour bus. I had to find Billie Joe, before he decided to destroy the faces of the emo culture. Without us, all of those stupid punks might take over with their screechy music and shitty ideals. Or, worse, the goths might turn the US into the United Satan Alliance and we would all be sacrificed on velvet altars in order to resurrect Nosferatu or some other cynical shit. No, Emo would live on, emo would always reign supreme in the black hearts and broken souls of my world.

Worse still, the Romans had sticks up their ass about the riots that had ensued last night. They were threatening to close off the Jewish Temple (which I couldn't care less about) and execute all of the bands who played last night. The ground was littered with black stains from hair dye and broken merchandise, which some Roman cunts were now stomping on. It was like watching my own personal apocalypse. But the world wasn't allowed to end, for, I am GOD! As if on cue, Jesus grabbed my shoulder and pulled me around. His hair was messy and his face was pale. I glared at him. "You don't deserve to be emo, Jesus, just so you know..." I hissed angrily. He hung his head in shame. His face was marred with smudged eyeliner and tears shimmered in his eyes.

"Heather, please listen to me. I'm sorry for what happened last night, I never lied to you..." Jesus pleaded, but I wasn't listening. "Heather, I'm going to die soon, but you, you showed me what it meant to live. That band of yours, it's something special. Treasure it always." He continued to whisper. My nonexistent heart began to melt. Without considering anything, I grabbed Jesus and rushed through the crowd. But, for some reason, people felt sympathy for Billie Joe and not me. They said that I broke his heart. I, alone, am the reason for his breakdown. Well, if they didn't shut up soon, I was going to leash holocaust V2.0 on their kosher asses. But, it made me think. Why was Billie Joe in love with me in the first place? And why did he consider himself "punk" and not "emo"? So many questions fought each other like eagles in my head. But, the body parts were starting pile up and although this was a daily occurrence in Jerusalem, it was beginning to smell quite badly. And honestly, I wanted to go back to the Black House, where I belonged. I mean, my accomplishments were being written about in scientific journals at this point, but was humanity worth more than my sanity? When I find Green Day, I'm using the presidential watch to get us all out of here.

Then, I found him. Billie Joe. He was in Hollywood Undead's tour bus, with Patrick Stump, Charlie Scene and Travis Barker. It looked like they had been playing spin the bottle, but all of them besides Billie Joe were missing their heads. Billie Joe was wearing their blood as eyeliner and was surrounded by beer bottles, cigarette cartons and broken Panic! At the Disco records. There walls were coated in black and pink stains. I walked over to Billie Joe and tapped him on the shoulder. He blinked slowly. "Billie Joe...it's me, Heather." I softly said. But, Billie Joe wasn't responding. I turned around and begged Jesus to help him. "I can't do that, Heather, you have little faith in me..." Jesus said sadly.

"THAT'S NO FUCKING EXCUSE!!" I shouted. I started to shake Billie Joe, but he was comatose. Roman soldiers burst into the tour bus with their swords withdrawn. They seized us, and they had Mike and Tre with them too. Jesus didn't look very surprised. The Romans ushered us out of the building and tied up our hands. They were arresting Jesus for starting the riots last night, and because we always hung around with him, we were going to be executed as well. Guilty is as guilty does, or so they said. I didn't sign up for this. Err, I wish I never came here. As they led us away, the crowds started to circle us, wishing for our deaths. Ungrateful bastards. I gave them Green Day and now they were going to give me death. But, they didn't care and led us away. Hopefully, death wouldn't hurt too badly.

Long story short, they nailed all of us to crosses. Yes, even me, and it hurt like a bitch. Sweat was dripping down my brow and I looked over at my friends. I muttered something about not being to absorb the powers of Jesus. His hands were bleeding just like mine. I started yelling obscenities at the Roman soldiers. "Heather, would you PLEASE just let me die in peace, okay? Okay??" Mike shrieked at me. Looks like he was back to normal. I never thought I would've missed that asshole, but I guess I did. Green Day just wasn't Green Day without Mike's biting remarks.

Then, the unthinkable happened and I can scarcely fathom it. The nails magically dropped out of my wounds and I fell off of the cross. Shaking, I looked around in confusion. Jesus groaned. I looked at him. "This is my gift to you... I'll remember you in paradise..." Jesus rasped. Okay... I had no time to lose, I whipped out the presidential watch and shot the nails out of Billie Joe, Mike and Tre. I rushed up to Billie Joe and threw my arms around him, squeezing him tight. "Billie Joe, I love you, alright? Just..no hetero in public, got it?" I whispered, not sure if I meant it. But, it brought a spark back to his eyes, so it was alright.

I readied the presidential watch again, this time at Jesus. But, did I really want his powers at this point? Well, I am God, so fuck yeah! I could feel something strange bubbling up in me, something...mysteriously powerful. Jesus' head droooped to teh side and it looked liie he had given forth hsi last breath. His powers were now mine. Mike noticed a difference and cowered slightly. "Dammit, why didn't you just let me die?" He whined. I shot a fireball out of my hand at him. Whoah, I was God, after all. Maybe, I just had to have faith in myself and in Green Day.

So, here I am, back safely in the Black House. But, things have changed. For one thing, I was in history books everywhere, and Green Day was now an immortalized relic that people marveled over. Being Emo was now considered a sacred privilege. Unfortunately, not all was well...