Franchises

It was a hot and sunny summer day. Benny and I were walking to Dairy Queen for some ice cream. Benny was a vanilla man, I was a sprinkles-nuts-and-every-flavour-ice-cream man. Says a lot for our personalities, me and Benny. 

We were walking when we suddenly came across a cement wall. There was nothing unusual about it, aside from the water damage and cracks. But Benny closely inspected it as though it were a treasure map, mumbling and touching it. I thought for a moment the "water damage" could be "piss damage" and reminded myself not to shake his hand. 

We were underneath a bridge with cars whooshing by every ten seconds or so. I turned to look down at the end of the underpass. A hobo carrying a bottle of red wine stumbled in. He looked familiar, with his long brown hair and beard.

I turned back to Benny. 

He backed away from the wall. Awestruck. 

“It’s the Virgin Mary,” he said.

“What?” I backed away and saw what he saw: The Virgin Mary. A halo and robe and a face of sorrow. 

But I wanted to fuck with him, being a sprinkles man and all, so I said, “So what?”

“‘So what’?” he repeated in disbelief. “This is a miracle. This doesn’t happen everyday.”

“Come on, it’s a coincidence,” I said.

“No, it’s not a coincidence, it’s a sign. A sign from the Lord Almighty.”

I scoffed. “If it were the Burger King Guy instead of the Virgin Mary, would it still be a sign? A sign from the Almighty Burger King Corporation?”

He looked at me blankly.

Then he said, “No. That would be a coincidence.”

“But then how is the Virgin Mary not a coincidence?”

His head was a blank piece of paper.

Then he said, “Belief makes this image a sign.”

“Hunger makes the Burger King Guy a sign, too.”

"What's with you and the Burger King Guy?"

"I worship food."

We could have gone on arguing like this forever, but I was hankering for some sugary goodness. And since I’m a nuts man and all, I said, “Fine. It’s a sign, let’s worship it when we get back and post a picture of it on Facebook and Instagram and Reddit and wherever else you like to lurk. Sound awesome?”

He nodded in agreement.

We walked down to the end of the underpass. The hobo had passed out on a makeshift bed of cardboard, red wine spilling out from the open mouth of the bottle. Benny said, as if he had plucked the idea from my head from before, “Doesn't he look familiar?”

As we walked into the warm rays of the sunshine, a gentle voice said, “Peace be with you.”

We turned around to see who had said it, but no one was there! The hobo was gone! Wine bottle, too.

“Who the fuck said that?” Benny said. He looked at me with wide eyes. “Could it have been Jesus? I told you he looked familiar, didn‘t I?”

He did kind of look like Jesus, long brown hair and a beard. But then again a lot of figures look like Jesus.

Just to fuck with him, I said, “He looked like the Burger King Guy to me.”