12/20/2008
St. Peter “Totally Out of Ideas” For Christ’s Birthday
A National Nitwit Holiday Exclusive
By Billy Pilgrim, National Nitwit Rogue Editor
St. Peter: Help a Brotha Out, Parishioners!
St. Peter, the bedrock of the Christian church and perennial guardian of heaven’s pearly gates, admitted earlier this morning he was “absolutely 100% out of ideas” for Jesus’ 2008th birthday, and was desperate for suggestions from loyal believers.
“I had hoped to stage a full concert with the Jimi Hendrix Experience now that they’re all finally dead,” explained an exasperated Peter between puffs from an unfiltered Camel. “But Mary pounced on that shit as soon as Mitch Mitchell died last month. I mean, she met his ass at the door, drum sticks in-hand. That was the last ace up my tunic.”
Over the course of two millennia, St. Peter has surprised the risen Lord with all manner of wondrous gifts—from the coronation of Charlemagne in 800 to St. Francis of Assisi’s inspired construction of the first manger scene in 1223—but claims “this year I’m simply running on empty.”
“I’m announcing an open call for ideas—heck, you don’t even need to be a Christian,” Peter huffed as he crushed his Camel butt beneath the sole of his sandal. “Muslim, Hindu, Taoist. I don’t care. If you have any ideas whatsoever, or can get Bob Dylan back in the studio to cut another gospel album, or you happen to be a wide receiver for the Jets and can help Favre win one last Super Bowl, send your prayers to: Peter, P.O. Box 1, Keys to the Kingdom Ave., Heaven. I don’t mean to brag, but I can make it worth your while.”
By Billy Pilgrim, National Nitwit Rogue Editor
St. Peter: Help a Brotha Out, Parishioners!
St. Peter, the bedrock of the Christian church and perennial guardian of heaven’s pearly gates, admitted earlier this morning he was “absolutely 100% out of ideas” for Jesus’ 2008th birthday, and was desperate for suggestions from loyal believers.
“I had hoped to stage a full concert with the Jimi Hendrix Experience now that they’re all finally dead,” explained an exasperated Peter between puffs from an unfiltered Camel. “But Mary pounced on that shit as soon as Mitch Mitchell died last month. I mean, she met his ass at the door, drum sticks in-hand. That was the last ace up my tunic.”
Over the course of two millennia, St. Peter has surprised the risen Lord with all manner of wondrous gifts—from the coronation of Charlemagne in 800 to St. Francis of Assisi’s inspired construction of the first manger scene in 1223—but claims “this year I’m simply running on empty.”
“I’m announcing an open call for ideas—heck, you don’t even need to be a Christian,” Peter huffed as he crushed his Camel butt beneath the sole of his sandal. “Muslim, Hindu, Taoist. I don’t care. If you have any ideas whatsoever, or can get Bob Dylan back in the studio to cut another gospel album, or you happen to be a wide receiver for the Jets and can help Favre win one last Super Bowl, send your prayers to: Peter, P.O. Box 1, Keys to the Kingdom Ave., Heaven. I don’t mean to brag, but I can make it worth your while.”