I said Jesus is Bigfoot and that’s why I didn’t get pudding.

The other day I was going through the mail and I found an old invi­ta­tion that was shoved in a mag­a­zine for a 1st com­mu­nion that I totally missed. And it was for my god­son, who I clearly am not in great con­tact with because I didn’t even real­ize he was get­ting ready for first communion.

So he’s either going to be a ser­ial killer or a huge suc­cess, but either way it’s all because of my lack of influ­ence on him.

And I was telling my friend about it and I’m like, “I have no idea what the gift pro­to­col is here. Is there a “Sorry I am com­pletely dis­con­nected from your exis­tence but con­grat­u­la­tions on your Holy Com­mu­nion gift?” and he goes, “I think I got a small statue of Jesus.”

Which made me ask, “Why do they make Jesus stat­ues? What if Jesus looked noth­ing like the statues?”

H: I’ll ask my mom.

Me: She’ll know why they make Jesus stat­ues? I so like her. This is a ques­tion that’s been haunt­ing me for total minutes.

H: No, I’ll ask her what you should do about a gift.

Me: Great. Now your mom knows I’m the kind of per­son who flakes on things like appoint­ments, laun­dry and the exis­tence of entire human beings. Which is all true, but I sus­pect it’s not what “nor­mal” peo­ple do. But also, I’m ter­ri­bly dis­ap­pointed that I won’t know what the statue thing is all about. Because, you know, Jesus could have looked like a chia pet.

*pause*

Or OHMUHGAWD.

You know how tigers weren’t tigers in the ice age? They were saber-toothed tigers? All shaggy hair and big teeth. And ele­phants weren’t ele­phants they were wooly mammoths?

I’m pretty sure that Jesus was Bigfoot.

Which also answers that ques­tion I’ve had for years about Jesus and the con­stant feet wash­ing thing.

You prob­a­bly shouldn’t tell your mom that I think Jesus was bigfoot.

He’s prob­a­bly the Yeti too. Like, if I were Jesus, I’d totally sum­mer in the Antarc­tic. Plus, no one has ever seen the Yeti and Big­foot together and so that can only mean one thing.

Him: Ummmm, ok.

Which of COURSE he didn’t know what to say. He was totally prob­a­bly in awe of my prob­lem solv­ing skills.

My friend says that “prob­lem solv­ing skills” doesn’t mean “really insane and offen­sive the­ory about the son of God” but I think he’s still just pro­cess­ing this turn of events.

This is actu­ally why I am an amaz­ing Godparent.

And I sus­pect he totally told his mom about my the­ory because a few days later she made banana pud­ding and didn’t send me any.

I still want banana pudding.