Skip to content


“Hey there, cutie.” Devin grins and starts to slip into the empty bus seat, but Keisha puts out a hand to stop him.

“Sorry,” Keisha says. “This one’s saved… for Jesus.”

Devin rolls his eyes and moves back. A few minutes later, at the next stop, Jesus gets on. He hands the driver a transfer slip.

Keisha waves to him. “Hey, Jesus! Sit here, Jesus!”

Jesus sits, looking confused. “Shapirrta ekhtuvehn msi-chra?” he mumbles.

“Man, you know I don’t speak that crazy ukh-huk language!” Keisha laughs.

Jesus furrows his brow and looks around. He smells like sweat, fish and coarse wool.


“And then my wife and I,” says Duc, “we are facing?”

“Facing each other,” says Francisco in his best missionary voice. “As are your privacies.”

“This is how Jesus wants me to have my wife?” Duc is dubious.

“This is the righteous way, as endorsed by the Holy Church.”

“But Jesus–”

“Yes! This is how Jesus wants it!” Francisco’s learning to hate Indonesia.

Duc thinks maybe they have different Jesuses; his wouldn’t care about this stuff. To him, Jesus is four feet tall and hairy, wild-bearded, laughing with a joy so fierce and wild it startles the birds to flight.