“Hey Gary, How About Carrying Me For a While?” – Jesus

Gary, we’ve been walking down this beach for quite some time – well, technically I’VE been walking down this beach for quite some time – and I was just wondering, well, don’t you think it’s about time you carried me for a while? I mean, it would only be fair to switch off every once in a while, right?

My back is killing me.

Don’t get me wrong, when you got fired from your job I was happy to jump in and help carry you in your time of need. But then you got that great new manager position at the plastics manufacturer, and here I am 3 months later still hauling your 220-lb. frame down the coast of North Carolina.

It’s just that I’m getting a little tired, you see. And sure I’m your Lord and Savior, but right now my calves could use a little “savioring” of their own, if you catch my drift.

I don’t know if you realize (since you haven’t done it in so long), but walking on a sandy beach isn’t exactly easy – especially when you’re barefoot and trying to balance a devout Christian on your shoulders. So maybe, if you’re not open to carrying me for a little while, we could at least get off this beach and find a sidewalk or something else a little easier to walk on?

Or – and I’m just spitballing here – maybe we could take a small detour from your life’s path and hit up a Foot Locker so I can get some arch support under these calloused, sand-burnt feet of mine? I’m telling you, a nice pair of New Balance cross-trainers just sounds like heaven right now.

Or, how about this: skip the detour and maybe you just use me as a crutch for a while? You could throw your arm around my shoulder and kind of hop along beside me. I’d still be doing most of the work, but some of the weight from your body would be relieved from my lower back (which is killing me, FYI).

Look, I don’t mean to sound accusatory – I’ve got nothing but love in my heart – but at this point I feel like you’re taking advantage of me. You promised me that once you got your life in order, you’d get down from my shoulders and just walk beside me. And not only do you have a great new job, but you’ve also got a loving new wife and your brother finally beat his testicular cancer.

Now call me crazy, but from where I’m standing (underneath you), your life seems pretty sweet right. And don’t try and give me any crap about how stressed out you are about work – you get flex-time and spend half your day cruising the Internet. There’s nothing stressful about that.

Honestly, if I had a choice between carrying you or that infernal cross, I think I’d choose the cross at this point. Because, while having a cross to bear wears heavy on the heart, at least the cross isn’t steering me towards every beachside hamburger stand in sight so it can stuff its face with double-bacon cheeseburgers (that I have to pay for, by the way).

I swear, you’ve gained 20 lbs. since I first picked you up. For Dad’s sake, a little exercise would do you good. So what do you say Gary? How about shouldering some of the stress and doing some of the legwork for yourself?

No? Well, then maybe I can interest you in converting to Buddhism? I don’t usually refer my believers to other religions, but I’m going to level with you – I think the added girth and leg strength offered by Buddha is a better fit for you and your lifestyle. I’ll give him a ringy-dingy on the old cell phone and have him come over so he can carry you for a while. Take him for a trial run and see if he works out for you.


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