Sacralicious
The Last Supper: Directors Cut
And lo, the table was set for a Sedar, a magnificent spread, for this was not to be just any passover. Even as the Disciples sat, they waited for their Lord to return unto them.
He had told them to make ready, and that they would be Celebrating, saying,
“...and after my Father reveals my ultimate destiny to me, we shall make this supper a FEAST, to celebrate what great things I shall accomplish here on earth!”
And then strode into the dessert, to commune with Yaweh in his usual fashion, seeming to talk to himself alone, this time his head held high, his gait the mighty swagger of divinity itself.
But lo, when he returned, he seemed shaken, roth, and anxious. His eyes flicked nervously amongst all those seated, settling perhaps a little too long on young Master Iscariot, before settling a long time on one of the many skins of wine placed upon the table.
It was Peter, whom he had always inexplicably called Simon who spoke up at last.
“So, teacher, did He reveal that which is to come to you?” He asked.
“Oh yeah.” Jeshua Ben Joseph said, seeming to tense up, his voice edged like a razor. “Yeah he fucking told me EXACTLY what humanity, OH WONDERFUL humanity has in store for me.” He pounded his fist on the table to punctuate his words.
“And?” Said Paul, perhaps a bit too hopefully.
“AND I AM PRETTY FUCKING DISSAPOINTED IN ALL OF YOU!” He roared, shaking now, a sob catching in the back of his throat.
Those gathered recoiled as he grabbed one of the loaves, rending it in his fists as he fought back tears over whatever it was that he had been shown.
“You see this bread you're eating? You see it? Huh?” He put two fingers to an ear as though expecting a response, but spoke far to quickly for one to be given. “IT MIGHT AS WELL BE MY FUCKING FLESH YOU ASSHOLES!” He screamed, throwing handful after handful of heavy Mazo at the disciples. “EAT ME YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! JUST FUCKING EAT ME!”
They scrambled to find cover as he spat and raged and threw more bread, then trembling filled a goblet from one of the Wine skins and took a mighty swig, whiping the back of his bearded mouth with an arm.
“And this wine wasn't fucking cheap either! THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH FOR THIS FUCKING WINE! IT MIGHT AS WELL BE MY FUCKING BLOOD! JUST DRINK MY FUCKING BLOOD YOU SHEEPRAPING SONS OF BITHCES!” He cast his arm wide, splashing Wine in every direction into the eyes of his apostles.
“I HOPE YOU MOTHERFUCKERS NEVER FORGET THIS BULLSHIT!” He wept openly now, drowning himself in more wine as he drowned the tabletop in his tears.
Thomas leaned over, and behind a hand whispered to Mark, “When you get around to writing this down... you should really tell this part just a little differently than it actually happened.”