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    One day, in the Bread & Cereal Isle of the local A&P, I found Jesus.  At least I think it was him.  Some guy with long brown hair, a short beard, and white robes was buying frosted flakes.  He called me his son and told me he loved me.  Then he asked me if I had found God yet.  I told him, “Yeah, last week at Shoprite.”  I heard a loud booming voice echo through the store.  It told me the bananas were on sale.  It must’ve been God.
    “That is good my son.”  He said to me.
    “I thought so too.  I love bananas.”  I told him.  “Hey, I didn’t know the savior liked sugar coated cornflakes.”   He seemed to be bored with my conversation because he didn’t respond.  He just kind of stared off into space, or maybe Heaven.  I needed something to get his attention.  “Ya know what?  I’ve always been meaning to thank you for sacrificing yourself for my sins and what not.  That was pretty nice of you.”
    That proved to be quite successful because now he began ranting incessantly about his “return” and the coming of the Devil.  He said something about “beware the wrath of God” and “those who are righteous will ascend into the Kingdom of Heaven.”  What ever that’s supposed to mean.  I never understood the big deal about Hell anyway.  It doesn’t seem like that bad of a place.  I mean, I’m sure you can get a pretty damn good tan down there.  And you can barbecue all year round.  Satan doesn’t even seem like that bad a guy.  I always liked that goatee too.
    I decided to have a little more fun with this guy, “I met Satan once.”
    “What?” he asked in awe.  “You have had dealings with the Devil?”
    “Sure.” I said. “Who do you think I get my crack from?”  That was a mistake.  Suddenly he reached into his robes and pulled out a sleek, black AK-47 and pointed it at me.
    “You must be cleansed of your sins!”  He shouted.
    “Hey!  I was only joking!”  I said nervously.  I was going to die.  I couldn’t believe I was about to have my head blown off  by a guy who thought he was the son of God.
    “You are the Devil’s Apprentice!”  He said accusingly.
    “No I’m not!  I hate Satan!  Come on Jesus have a sense of humor for God’s sake.”  Another mistake.
    “Do not use the Lord’s name like that heathen!”
    “I was only joking!  I’ll go to church next Sunday, I promise!”
    “You must be cleansed!”
    “Come on, would God really approve of you going around shooting people in the head?”
    “I do God’s work!  He told me to cleanse the souls of those tainted with evil.”
    “But I’m not tainted.  I’ve never even been touched by evil.  I’m not even sure what evil is.”  I saw his finger begin to apply pressure to the trigger.  Instinctively I dove to the side.  I heard the gun unload a volley of bullets and I felt a sharp pain in my right shoulder.  I could feel the warm blood ooze down my arm as I lay face down on the floor.  I decided to stay there.  Maybe he’d leave if he thought I was dead.  I could hear him walking away mumbling about cleansing more souls.  This guy was a fucking lunatic.
    I turned my head slowly to see what he was doing.  He was walking toward the checkout counter.  I had to do something.  I lifted myself from the floor.  Pain surged through my shoulder and down my arm.  My shirt was wet and sticky with blood.  Suddenly I heard him shouting.
    “All of your souls must be cleansed!  I can send you into the Kingdom of Heaven.  Eternal paradise will be yours, but first I must remove the evil from you!”
    I ran toward him as quickly as possible trying to ignore the intense pain that threatened to overcome me.  I could hear his insane ramblings and suddenly he fired a shot.  I could hear the panicked screams of the people, and I knew I had to hurry.  As I ran, I saw a neat row of cans out of the corner of my eye.  I reached out toward the shelf and grabbed one.  I just hoped it would work.
    I came to the end of the isle and I could see him waving his gun around.  I blocked out everything, just focusing on the maniac in white.  The only sound I could hear was the blood pumping through my veins as my heart sped up in panic.  I slid to a stop and took aim.  I swung my arm back, and hurled the can forward with all the strength I could muster.  Everything seemed to slow down as I watched the metal can sail through the air.  It connected with the back of the gunman’s head with a sickening thud.  He collapsed to the floor, and I watched as blood slowly trickled out of the new wound I had made in his head.
    I couldn’t believe what I just did.  Did I just kill Jesus Christ?  I walked over to his motionless body.  As I bent over I noticed the dented can lying on the floor next to him.  Campbell’s Tomato Soup.  I picked it up in my hand.  It would make a nice souvenir.  Then I noticed the gun.  I walked over to it and hefted it in my hand.  That was when I became aware of all the other people who were still in the store.  There was an old woman clutching her chest who looked like she was about to have a heart attack.  Two cashiers working the checkout counters.  A middle aged woman leaning over a man crying.  And a younger woman tightly gripping her child’s hand.
    I stood up straight, eyeing one of the cashiers.  She was a young girl.  About seventeen or eighteen.  Not very attractive.  She probably thought she was from the way she was dressed though.  Her curly hair was pulled back in a ponytail revealing her awkward looking face that was still frozen in terror.  Her makeup was running down the side of her face in beads of sweat.  I looked down at the gun, then back at her.  Slowly I lifted it up and pointed it at her.
    “Open up the cash registers.”  I ordered.  After all, when else would I ever get an opportunity like this?
    “Yes, sir.”  She said shaking.
    “You too!”  I shouted at the other cashier.  They both began fumbling around dumbly trying to open the registers.  Some day this was turning out to be.  First I killed Jesus with a can of soup and now I was robbing the A&P.  Oh well, at least I would have some good stories to tell my grandchildren.
 They began to clear the money from the register drawers and put them into plastic bags.  Good thing It was the end of the day; the drawers were full.  Sweat was pouring down my face now.
    “Hurry up!”  I shouted impatiently.  The girl dropped a stack of ones on the floor and bent over to pick them up.  “Just leave them!”  I walked over to the two of them and grabbed the plastic bag now filled with money.  I slipped it inside of a paper bag and threw in my can of tomato soup.  I backed away toward the exit still pointing the gun at them.  “Thank you for your cooperation, and do try and have a nice day.”  I flashed them a smile and walked out the door.
    I walked toward my car with an A&P bag in one hand and an AK-47 in the other.  The sun was setting.  Just like in one of those westerns.  Except I wasn’t a hero. Or was I?  I saved those people’s lives didn’t I?  Oh well, I could still ride off into the sunset hero or not.  And at least I was a few thousand dollars richer.  Not to mention I got a free can of soup.

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