[ WP ] A man in the future named Jesus reads a book and decides to model his life after the main character . He gathers his modern technology and goes back in time to convince the people that he is their leader through the use of `` miracles '' . Unfortunately he did not read the end of the book .

`` What the fuck, dude? What the fuck?'' Jesús shouted. Or rather, that's what he tried to say, and the implants in his skull manipulated his facial and throat muscles to produce the rough equivalent in Aramaic. 
 The soldier about to drive a nail through his hand spat in his face, then replied in the same language. Jesús hardly needed to listen to the translator in his inner ear to understand his words- `` Shut up, Jewish scum.'' 
 `` Wait, just wait, seriously. When Pilate was all like,'we're gon na put you on the cross', I thought it was just, like, making an example of me! Like, we whip you a bit, you hang out for a day or so and people can see we mean business, then you get to come down!'' The thief to Jesús' left screamed as his hand was nailed down, and Jesús flinched away from the noise. `` Hear that? Who the fuck does that to people? I mean, come on!'' 
 The soldier grinned. `` You stirred up too much trouble. We heard you were getting people together, talking about revolt, trying to make yourself king of the Jews. Well, us Romans are going to do to you what we did to *our* kings!'' With a single blow of his mallet, he drove the nail straight through his palm. 
 
 Jesús screamed, a long, drawn-out cry that tapered off to a whimper. Waves of red-hot pain shot up his arm, causing all the muscles to tense up uncontrollably. He was in too much pain to even notice the cross being hauled up next to him, dragging the thief aloft. He only had time to sob a few times before they grabbed his other hand and nailed it down too. He cried out in pain again, but his mind was already trying to block out the world, sheltering inside itself to avoid its suffering. 
 
 As they hauled his cross upright, he asked himself; where had it all gone wrong? The book had made it sound great- everyone following him around, making booze out of water, getting to live like a no-shit god on earth. And then this! Like, the fucking Romans- who gives a shit about them? And who came up with the whole cross thing, anyways? Some fucking sadist, probably. He was n't supposed to die here- the plan was to get everyone worshiping him, then fly up into the clouds and skedaddle. He had been planning the finale, too- do it like a rock concert, with lasers, smoke, the whole nine yards. But they had grabbed him in his sleep before he could get to any of his miracle gear, and now he was shit out of luck. 
 
 The pain washing over him receded somewhat, and he managed to open his eyes and look out. There was a whole crowd gathered there, staring at him with pity in their eyes. Pity? They were n't supposed to pity him, they should worship him! But now here he was, Jesús of North Cleveland, strung up with a couple of common thieves, and no way out. 
 
 Something wet hit him in the chin. He looked down, only to have the wet sponge go right into his face this time. Spluttering, he spat the liquid out of his mouth. It was sour as hell- must be that crap wine the soldiers drank. 
 `` Hey, Jesús,'' one of them said. `` How about a little drink, make you feel better?'' He smirked, waving the sponge around on its stick. 
 Jesús rolled his eyes. `` Why do n't you take that stick and métetelo por el culo, eh?'' 
 The soldier glared at him. `` We'll see who's cracking wise when you're buzzard food.'' He dropped the stick down and walked away. 
 
 The thief to Jesús' right spoke. `` Should have taken the wine, buddy. Helps dull the pain a bit while you wait.'' 
 Before Jesús could reply, the one on the left laughed. `` Do n't make no difference, does it? Gon na die slow anyways. Hey, you're supposed to be the guy full of miracles, why do n't you magic yourself off that cross, huh? Yeah, and you can jerk me off when you get down there!'' 
 The right-hand thief replied, `` Hey, show some respect, man. I saw him do some crazy shit, and this- well, magic ca n't do everything.'' He lowered his voice a little. `` Jesús, man, I mean... I'm scared, dude. I do n't wan na die up here. You think... you think you can put in a word for me with the man upstairs?'' 
 Jesús put on his best'son of God' face. `` My brother, we are both going to paradise together this day.'' 
 `` Yeah, and what about me?'' the left-side thief jeered. 
 `` You can jerk yourself off in hell!'' Jesús shouted back. 
 
 The pain spiked, and he grimaced in agony. He did n't even want to think about the blood pouring out of his hands- he was already starting to get woozy. What the right side thief had said calmed him, though. People still believed in him! He was dying, but he was going to be remembered! If only he could play the crowd a bit... 
 `` Why have you all forsaken me?'' he managed to get out. Hey, that worked pretty good- got them talking a bit, at least. He tried another tack: `` Oh God, you great guy up there, forgive all these people! They did n't know what they were doing.'' Yeah, that was good shit. 
 
 His vision went black after that, and when he opened his eyes again, it was later in the day. Fewer people were there, and there were already vultures flying overhead. He swallowed, his mouth dry and parched. `` I'm so thirsty...'' he moaned. Even breathing was agony. 
 
 He looked down the road, and miracle of miracles! Joseph was walking towards him. Joseph was his main man, his brother, the guy who was going to have to keep things rolled after he was gone. Jesús gathered his strength, and with the last bit of energy in his body shouted, `` Joseph! Make me look good!'' 
 

