End of Days…
And so it came to pass that the end of days had finally arrived. It was a Wednesday and a little cloudy with rain expected later. A billion or more Muslims had assembled each carrying a severed head and a collection of finger tips. The official police estimate of the crowd was 57,427 but this was ignored by the media who had to build some sense of drama. The Christian Army had fewer numbers but they were led by an impressively bald elder gentleman who stood firm on his mountain top as he surveyed the hoards below, stretching out to the horizon.
The long predicted battle could not start straight away. No self-respecting soldier would fight on an empty stomach and so it was agreed to start at 3pm sharp which would give plenty of time for a hearty breakfast followed by a leisurely lunch. Between now and the appointed hour the rules of war would be agreed. Killing people was a noble act and neither side wanted to upset their enemy by committing a faux-pas like using the wrong weapons to slaughter the other side. The first question to be decided was whether this should be a figurative war or an actual war. The Muslims had argued that a figurative war would be better, less bloodshed and it could still be talked about for millennia to come. Many Christian leaders would have acquiesced, but the elderly follically-challenged leader was having none of it. He had studied both the Qur’an and Bible strictly and the end-of-days had to actually happen for it to make any sense. It was therefore agreed this was to be an actual war based on a strict understanding of the Qur’an and Bible (and the New Testament in particular) – the lawyers on both sides would have a field day, (if they were anywhere close to the field; which of course they weren’t).
The Old Bald Guy turned to his supporters. He was disappointed that not many had made the trip. He had got several messages of support via text and his Facebook page but not many had actually made the journey. Some had said they were turning the other cheek instead, ‘how very convenient’ thought the Old Bald Guy. A few had wanted to be there but had other battles to fight and were busy burning crosses, shooting abortion doctors, or abusing the young children in their flock. Many billions more had decided that it was far more important to engage in an online debate about whether a Christian baker was right to refuse to bake a cake for a gay couple. It was this kind of thinking that had left the Bald Old Guy with fewer than 300 troops. Not to be cowered by overwhelming odds the Old Bald Guy drew his sword and gave a rousing speech to inspire his army. God was on their side; how could they fail?
Below the first Muslim had seen the drawn sword and this truth had spread through-out the whole encampment quicker than any rumour ever could. The Muslims were aghast. They had expected the peace loving Christians whose whole doctrine was based on turning the other-cheek to come un-armed. This was a development no one had expected and it concerned the tank commanders the most, ‘what if their swords scratch our shiny new tanks?’. The Muslim religious leaders were also concerned; ‘Was this the Sword of Justice, The Sword of Truth or The Sword of Reason?’. Their lawyers were on hand, via skype, to reassure them. The Swords of Truth, Reason and Justice couldn’t be used in an actual war – such things were only allowed in figurative wars. As it happened the sword in question was a rather fine, collector’s edition Anduril Sword.
Suitably reassured, at the allotted hour the Muslims advanced up the hill. The few brave men at the top raised their swords in unison. The Muslims halted and the lawyers were contacted again. It was then pointed out to the Christians that they could only actually possess swords if they had first sold their coats as demanded by Jesus in the Bible. The Old Bald Guy’s face was a picture, how could he have made such a noobie mistake? Fortunately all was not lost, the Bald Guy commanded that his army sell their coats on Ebay to one another and then buy each other’s swords. There was some discussion about how Jesus would feel about them buying and selling – hadn’t He Himself turned over Ebay’s table? The imperative to arm themselves soon overcame such reservations.
The Muslims giggled somewhat at the sight of their foe exchanging coats and swords but, being gentlemen fighters, had allowed them time to reorganise. As they reached the top of the hill the Bald Guy thought about swinging his sword in an attempt to take down the first of the advancing hoard. But he was frozen. His holy book had explicitly told him he could sell his coat to buy a sword, but could he swing it? Could he take a life of someone who had actually beheaded a man and stole his fingers? Logic dictated he surely could, but this was a war based on the actual literal meaning of the Bible – he had to be sure. He consulted his lawyers. Their answer was that there was no specific text in the New Testament that allowed for the taking of a life. His lawyers had offered to relook at the Old Testament; that would sanction just about anything. The Bald Guy was defeated, he couldn’t now revert to the Old Testament as much as he would have liked to. He had been hoisted upon his own petard. Not literally of course, he didn't own a petard.
The Muslims turned out not to be the boogie men the Christians had imagined and showed compassion when the Christians dropped their swords. They had tea together and started slagging off the Buddhist, Sikhs and Atheists.
For the record The Old Bald Guy hasn’t literally just been ripped a new one.