Jesus was pissing.
"I'm sorry, rabbi," the girl stammered, "I didn't know you
"It's alright," he said. The powerful stream tapered off. Jesus
shook it out, then flipped his robe back down. He turned back around.
Involuntarily glancing at the old crotch level cumulative stain (which
every man had), the girl quickly lowered her eyes.
"I'm so ashamed, Rabbi."
"Be not ashamed, daughter," said Jesus, laying a comforting
on her skinny shoulder. "We are human. We all make our water from one
place and our soil from another place. Now then. Was there something
you wanted to see me about?"
"Is it...don't tell me...your grandfather is blind!"
"Okay, okay...uhh...your mother is lame!"
"Oh, the hell with it! I've never been very good at guessing
games." Jesus cracked a crooked grin, and sat down on a crooked rock.
"Tell me then."
"That is...a kind of itching..." She trailed off.
Jesus waited, but crimsoning, the girl'd lapsed dumb.
"Well, that kind of thing's very common around here."
"Can you help me?"
"Of course I can. You think I only raise the dead and cure the
The girl was speechless.
"Okay, then...uh..." Jesus looked around. "Alright -- come on
He led her back to where he'd peed. "Do you trust me, daughter?"
"Are you asking me or telling me?"
"Yes, rabbi, yes, of course I trust you."
Jesus nodded. He knelt down and picked up some of the mud he'd
created a moment ago. Looking around to see if there were any
witnesses, in consideration of the girl's sensibilities, he reached
down and anointed her sharoof, smearing it shut with mud.
"Now, you must let that dry and flake off of its own accord.
"Shouldn't take long, but you must let it fall off itself. And
then, you'll never itch down there again."
Tears sprang to her eyes. "Thank you, rabbi." She wanted to
his feet, but as she began to kneel down, remembered the salve. "Uh..."
Jesus held out his clean hand for her to kiss. "Don't mention
it," he said softly, with a beneficient smile.