It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees.
Euripides (c. 485-406 BCE)
After the first that was to me an Incarnation- to them I had become a God- there came The Second Coming. I didn't come creeping like a thief in the night, no sir! I came in broad daylight, trumpeting like a fallen angel in a seedy Jazz Bar. And Chuchu and Bobo came out to play with me. They were pipers, I was paying; so they played my tune.
They swallowed, by my father that is above they did. Even as I said unto them, verily, "Take this my body and eat it, it symbolises the covenant through which you have sold your souls and labour to me."
Bobo was chocking, Chuchu too, but I wasn't paying them to spill my seed. If they spilled it, it would offend my Celestial Daddy who would smite me in anger reserved for Onan- The Wanker. (As for Terrestrial Daddy, he would be busy doing a Google search on Invitro Fertilisation and patenting it as Immaculate Conception.)
I came. For Christ's fucking sake I did! And then I said to them: "Drink this, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured for the forgiveness of multilateral debts." Then I mumbled the fine print, but the accursed kinsmen of Ham thought I was groaning in ecstacy.
I touched the heads of these vassals with avuncular grace. "Your body is the temple of the God of Lucre," I said to them with magnanimity. "Do not chase out the profiteers, usurers and varied middlemen." (All of them that are in trendy coats made of the finest Northern fleece, I meant!)
They nodded in agreement. Bobo and Chuchu always nod in agreement because they know it earns the, a doggy biscuit. It is always like Pavlov's dogs all over again- only difference is that these dogs have two hands and brachiated thumbs that are perfect for holding begging bowls.
There I stood, my hands spread out; to them in blessing, to me in ecstasy. I was glowing now. My eyes shone and my hair flowed. My eyes that were as blue as the waters I had walked on- across the seas- on my way here, and the hair that was as blonde as Hitler's dream.
"Arise!" I said unto them. "You have become conquerors of your destiny. Behold Canaan...!" But I meant it in jest. I knew they couldn't stand. I had kept them on their knees for too long.
On their knees they stayed. Right where our common ancestor- Noah- had cursed them to live. All that was left for me to do was to put them to work on my Third Coming. If they couldn't swallow it, then they could vomit on my shoes. But they could never stand up to vomit on my coat.
Fot it was written, in the fine print of our covenant -that in their ignorance they couldn't read: "verily, and verily I say unto you, thou shall not vomit on coats made of the finest Northern fleece!"
49 years later, Field Marshal Kimathi Waciuri; Commander, Land and Freedom Army still lies in shackles at The kamiti GK prison... Still Colonised!