Divine
Intervention





And
in
that
moment,
standing
there
in
the
street,
I
felt
like
I’d
never
been
away.

After
my
one‐thousandth
reincarnation
as
a
human
on
planet
Earth
it
was
reason

for
a
very
special
celebration
in
Heaven.
Buddha
was
shaking
hands
with
Hare

Krishna,
Shiva
was
making
a
toast
with
Shakti,
Jesus
was
playing
Hopscotch
with

Zoroastra,
and
everyone
was
doing
just
fine.
Yes,
after
my
last
fifty
years
in
a

mortal
body
I
had
forgotten
the
true
peace
and
quiet
of
this
spiritual
plain.
I
was

standing
there
in
the
street
where
Jesus
himself
lives
on
a
tuft
of
grayish
cloud,

(he
likes
to
fall
asleep
to
the
sound
of
rain),
when
all
of
a
sudden
a
bunch
of
Hells

Angel
bikers
crashed
the
party.

“How
the
hell
did
they
get
in
here?”
Said
Jesus.


Zoroastra
was
balancing
on
one
leg
when
he
looked
up
to
see
the
bikers

walking
slowly
towards
the
group
of
us.
The
leader
of
the
pack
walked
straight

up
to
Jesus,
and
in
just
a
second
Jesus
was
laying
on
the
ground
with
his
head
in

the
punch
bowl.
“Damn
you
biker
gangs!”
gargled
Jesus.



 “Blasphemy!”
replied
the
biker.

Zoroastra,
who
now
realized
that
he
would
have
to
stand
up
for
his
good

friend
Jesus,
threw
a
piece
of
chalk
at
the
biker
gang
but
as
his
accuracy
was

notoriously
bad
he
ended
up
hitting
Buddha
on
the
chin.
Buddha
had
been

meditating
and
now
awoke
to
find
a
blue
mark
on
his
face.


 “How
dare
you!”
said
Buddha,
now
very
angry.


 The
biker
gang
then
gave
Zoroastra
the
most
horrendous
wedgie
that

anyone
in
any
spiritual
plain
had
ever
seen!
They
then
hung
him
by
the
flagpole

where
Buddha
had
been
arranging
his
Nepalese
prayer
flags.
Hare
Krishna
was

still
dancing
around
in
circles
when
the
bikers
grabbed
him
by
the
hair
and

threw
him
into
another
dimension
altogether.
They
wrapped
the
Nepalese


©
Stuart
William
Mentha
2009

Divine
Intervention


prayer
flags
around
Buddha’s
feet
and
dragged
him
around
in
circles
as
he
tried

to
tell
them
that
the
purpose
of
all
life
was
suffering.
The
bikers
were
having
the

time
of
their
lives
when
all
of
a
sudden
they
saw
approaching
from
the
hills
in

the
distance
(that
were
actually
just
huge
white
clouds
that
looked
like
hills
that

in
turn
looked
just
like
a
pack
of
white
elephants)…
a
group
of
raiding
Vikings!

The
bikers
were
just
about
on
their
bikes
when
the
Vikings
had
transcended
time

and
space
and
appeared
as
a
glorious
horde
around
them.


 “We
want
our
women
back!”
said
one
Viking,
the
one
with
the
largest

horns
protruding
from
of
his
helmet.


 “We
didn’t
take
your
women,”
said
one
of
the
bikers,
“and
anyway,
they’re

ugly
–
we
don’t
want
them!”

Just
then
Jesus
levitated
into
the
air
and
in
an
aura
of
pure
white

(although
he
was
sporting
some
horrid
pink
and
orange
punch
stains
on
his

beautiful
silk
gown),
he
spoke
in
an
angelic
voice,
more
angelic
than
anyone
had

ever
heard
before!
He
said,
“Understand
my
children
what
I
am
about
to
tell
you

is
heavenly
and
most
pure
–
the
Swedish
women
are
the
most
beautiful
women

in
all
of
the
lands
anywhere.
Their
beauty
is
unmatched
even
by
the
angels
here

in
Heaven!”


 Only
Buddha
was
heard
shouting
cheers
of
support
for
Jesus,
but
the

Viking
leader
replied,
“We’re
not
your
children,
and
we’re
not
Swedish,
we’re

Norwegian,
and
damn
it,
what
the
hell
is
wrong
with
our
women?”


Jesus
coughed
nervously,
“Oh,
did
I
say
Swedish,
I
meant
Scandinavian
in

general.”

The
Vikings
this
time
agreed
and
for
a
moment
they
seemed
to
be
very

happy
and
proud
before
their
initial
anger
returned.


 “But
anyway,
we
want
them
back!
It’s
us
that
does
the
pillaging
not
you

bastards!”


 Zoroastra
was
still
picking
his
wedgie
as
he
said;
“I
tried
to
explain
to
God

all
so
many
epochs
ago
that
allowing
different
tribes
from
different
eras
into
the

same
plain
of
existence
at
the
same
time
would
only
lead
to
trouble!”



 “Tribes?”
said
the
biker
honcho,
“We’re
not
Papua
New
Guinean

Headhunters
you
know.
We’re
civilized!”


 To
this,
the
Vikings
took
the
most
offense
because
they
happened
to
be

quite
good
friends
with
the
headhunters
of
Papua
New
Guinea
who
adored
their

elaborate
helmets
and
dared
not
cut
of
the
heads
of
who
they
thought
were

surely
gods.
The
Vikings
launched
fully
at
the
bikers
who
were
scrambling
for

positions.
Bike
parts
went
flying
through
the
air,
heads
rolled
(and
never
found

their
bodies
again),
and
in
the
midst
of
the
skirmish
Buddha
was
trying
to

resume
his
meditation,
still
striving
for
the
purity
of
nirvana,
when
a
boot
struck

him
on
the
head.


©
Stuart
William
Mentha
2009

Divine
Intervention



 “I’ve
had
it!”
Buddha
yelled.
He
got
up
on
his
feet,
and
kicked
a
few
bikers

in
the
head,
punched
a
Viking
in
the
stomach,
and
then
in
his
absolute
bezerker

frenzy
accidentally
hit
Jesus
over
the
back
of
the
head
with
the
empty
punch

bowl
‐
a
punch
bowl
that
was
notoriously
heavy!
Jesus
fell
to
the
ground,
and

simultaneously
the
crowd
dispersed.
Everyone,
the
Vikings
and
bikers
included

fell
silent
as
they
all
looked
at
the
body
of
Jesus.


 “Is
he
dead?”
asked
a
Viking.



 Sure
enough
Jesus’
ghost
rose
above
his
body
and
said
“Oh
fuck
it,
now

look
what
you’ve
all
gone
and
done.
You
know,
when
one
dies
on
Earth
he

returns
to
Heaven,
but
when
one
dies
in
Heaven
he
must
return
to
Earth.”
And
so

it
was
that
Jesus
was
reborn
onto
his
old
planet,
but
as
a
final
twist
of
fate,
Hare

Krishna
(who
had
been
thrown
into
another
dimension
by
the
biker
gang)
was

now
in
the
realm
of
the
ancient
Greek
Olympian
gods
and
had
decided
along
with

Zeus
and
a
very
enthusiastic
Thor
that
Jesus
was
not
to
be
born
into
a
human

body
again
but
instead,
into
the
sacred
body
of
a
cow
in
India.
This
was
the
least

he
could
do
for
such
a
good
friend!








About
the
author

Stuart
Mentha
is
a
freelance
writer,
poet,
playwright,
actor,
and
illustrator.
He
is

a
graduate
of
Deakin
University
with
a
degree
in
Professional
and
Creative

Writing.
He
is
based
in
Prague,
and
is
currently
writing
his
debut
novel,
a

collection
of
short
stories,
a
collection
of
poetry,
and
several
works
for
theatre

and
film.



Check
out
my
online
portfolio
for
new
stories,
poetry,
blog
entries,
artwork,

short
films,
and
music:
http://stuartmentha.weebly.com/






©
Stuart
William
Mentha
2009