If Jesus Were Black: Chapter Six

The next four years was wild. Jesus kept dropping albums left and right. My mans was in the studio making music like a madman. I’m talkin’ ten songs a day off the top of the dome. This man was a machine. And with the crime in Harlem at an all-time low, Mayor Giuliani got behind it all and started funding the Jesus movement. So He was able to go on tours all over the boroughs and soon the music took over the whole state.

But the highs had the lows too. Remember Simon and his boys? They couldn’t stand seeing Jesus up so high so they told the cops He was busy gettin’ high and Jesus got arrested for drug possession. He spent three months in jail then got bailed out by Mary and her girlfriends. But those three months in jail changed Him something fierce because once He got out, He was a whole other level of focused.

“We got work to do,” He told us.
“What you got planned?” Peter asked.
“We’re goin’ to Washington. We gonna hit ‘em where it hurts.”
And that same day we laid down plans to march on Washington—just like MLK. Except this time, the crowd was gonna be looking a lot different. MLK had blacks and whites walking with him, but they were all pretty cool and civilized folk. Jesus had ex-pimps, prostitutes, and every gang banger in New York City following Him now. This wasn’t gonna be your granddaddy’s protest march. But that’s exactly how He wanted it.

But the day of the march, Jesus decided to swing through and pick up a gift for Mary for bailing Him out. So He brought the Twelve of us and Mary to Luis Vuitton to get a bag she’d always wanted. But the dudes there weren’t having it. And at some point, this went down.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m going to have to ask you and your friends to leave,” the white lady said.
Jesus looked at her then at the rest of us. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’m gonna have to ask you to leave,” she repeated.
Peter shook his head and laughed real slow, the sign that he was ready to throw hands.
Jesus licked His lips, a sign that He was about to roast somebody. “I’m about to buy something for my friend. I don’t want any trouble.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, but her voice was getting real shaky. She was scared. “But you and your friends need to leave. It’s making the other customers uncomfortable and if you’re not going to buy something, you can’t loiter here.”
Jesus kept His eyes dead on her face. “I’m buying a bag for My friend. With money. We’re not being loud. We’re not stealing anything. We’re not flippin’ tables. We’re buying something. With money.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she repeated. I wanted to scream in this chick’s face. “If you don’t leave, then I’ll have to call the manager.”
“Then call the manager,” Jesus replied. “We’ll be here.”
“Jesus, You don’t have to do this,” Mary said to Him. “I don’t need the bag. It’s cool.”
“No, Mary,” He said. “I’m not about to make a scene. But this needs to happen.”
The chick was already gone and other customers were looking at us real funny now like we were some kinda terrorist rap group. And a few moments later, two tall white men in three-piece suits came out looking real hard for no reason.

“Hello, gentlemen,” one said. He had a thick French accent. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave the store, please. You’re disturbing the peace.”
But Jesus didn’t back down. “What you’re doing ain’t right. I’m here to buy a bag for My friend. That’s it. You think we’re here to stick you up, but we just wanna buy something. Period.”

“But you have to leave, sir,” the man said again. It was like they couldn’t come up with anything else to say. And they had no idea who they were messing with.
“Look, my guy,” Jesus said, putting His hands out. “What you’re doing is the reason why this country’s so messed up right now. Nobody was bothering anybody until you came. I’m here to buy this $300 purse for my friend. That’s what I’m here to do. So you can either catch these bills or catch these hands. It’s really that simple.”

The second man who hadn’t said anything spoke to the lead dude in French. “Il ment. Il est un meutruer et un savage.” He’s lying. He’s a murderer and a savage.
Jesus replied without missing a beat. “Je ne mens jamais. Mais je suis un sauvage.” I never lie. But I am a savage.

The look on the guys’ faces was priceless. They went red and Jesus walked straight past them, up to the cashier, and slapped the money on the counter. Then He gave Mary the bag, walked past the guys again, and we all walked out the store.

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