Help! I Let Jesus Take the Wheel and He Drove Us to a Ska Festival

I was never a very religious person until recently when my life of sin finally forced me to confront my demons. I was speeding down I-91, my body full of every substance known to man, when I looked up at my bloodshot eyes in the rearview and finally asked Jesus for help, and to take the wheel of my life. 

To my surprise, he actually appeared and said that as long as I believed in him, everything would be fine. That sounded cool, but the drugs pulsating through my veins made me paranoid that there might be some kind of a catch. And that catch, as it turns out, was worse than anything I could have imagined – he was driving us straight to a Goddamn ska festival. 

I should have known something was off when he told me all those times there were just one set of footprints were the times he had to “pick it up, pick it up, pick it up!” 

My life could finally be unshackled from my corrupted soul, and my inner torment would be turned into unabashed happiness. But if that meant having to go to a dork ass ska fest, fuck that noise. I tried to reason with JC by begging him to take us anywhere else and I’d do his bidding, but he just gently pressed his warm hand onto my heart and told me to trust him. I thought he was testing me to see if I had faith, but when I realized he wasn’t bluffing I thanked him for his heavenly guidance. Then, as he smiled and started to preach about love and forgiveness and shit, I opened my passenger door and jumped out.

Sure, Jesus stole my car and I broke 40% of the bones in my body from diving out of a Honda Accord traveling at 80 miles per hour, but the good news is that I didn’t have to listen to Less Than Jake. 

Maybe that was Jesus’ plan all along, to make me see what truly matters in this world, as I left our encounter with a bliss I haven’t felt in a long time. But then I realized my stash of coke was in my glove compartment and I’d never get it back thanks to him.