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Jesus sat at one end of the long oak table. He had been here many hours, and he was tired.

"So I have to die for their sins?", he asked for what must have been the fiftieth time. God was still patient, though. "Yes, that's the plan. Again, you don't have to do this. There are other plans, other methods, but..".

God paused. He searched for better words. "There are other ways we could accomplish our goals, but we have so much invested in you, and we'd really like you to follow it through to the end."

"But it seems so stupid!". Jesus was exasperated. They had been arguing this point for hours. "Let them pay for their own damn sins. How does hanging me on a cross have anything to do with them?"

"It doesn't", admitted the Big Guy. He turned his palms upward in a gesture of futility. "It doesn't have squat to do with it. But *they* think it does, and it plays out really well."

"But why a cross? That's really painful shit! Why not something with less suffering? A burning, maybe. Or drowning? Quick, over and done with. Nice little resurrection a few days later, and on with the show. Why not?" Jesus was pleading, and it was not the first time since they had sat down at the table.

God was still patient. "We've been over this. The cross is an important part of the merchandising. The boys over in advertising have a whole campaign worked out, and they really think the cross is important. I agree with that, and to change it now means going back to square one and starting over."

Jesus picked up the thick pile of papers that was the contract God wanted him to sign. He shuffled through it yet again, searching for a particular paragraph. "Here," he said, pointing at a page, "Right here. The damn spear in the side. Is that really necessary? Isn't it bad enough that they drive nails through my body? You have to poke me with a spear, too?"

God shrugged his shoulders. "All part of the theme. Every element is important, every action has a reason. Really, let's not spend time on this. The campaign is set, it's really too late to be messing with details. Let's talk about compensation. Perhaps we can sweeten the deal?". God raised his eyebrows, inviting Jesus to respond.

"Sweeten the deal?" Jesus looked thoughtful. "Ok, we've got the Sainthood thing covered, the Perpetual Freedom from Worry, and the No Further Demands clause. I've got perpetual wine and spirits, the mansion, the hot and cold running babes..." Jesus paused, "I know, I know, we don't mention the Bodacious Babes clause to the rubes. No problem, it's our little secret." God nodded his assent.

"It's not a bad deal", Jesus offered. "Not bad, but you are asking a lot from me. Just hauling that cross down the street is no picnic. I think you need to give me more."

God spread his hands wide. "What more can you want? Speak, and it is yours."

Jesus swallowed. Suddenly his mouth felt dry. What the hell, he thought, you never know what you can get until you ask for it.

"I want a piece of the action."

"Excuse me?" God was actually surprised, which is very unusual for an omniscient Deity.

"I want a partnership. Stock. Power. I want to call the shots, send the sinners to hell, dispatch the guardian angels, the whole thing. I want to run the show."

There was a long silence. God and Jesus sat at opposite ends of the long oak table and stared at each other. A clock ticked softly in the background, and muffled sounds from other rooms was the only other noise. You would think both of them had stopped breathing, and perhaps they had. The minutes ticked away, and neither of them so much as blinked.

"No deal." God spoke softly, but there was anger in his eyes.

"Fine". Jesus stood up. "I'll be getting back to my carpentry now."

They stared at each other once again.

"I might consider Right Hand Man." Bitterness showed in God's voice.

"I might consider being a carpenter", Jesus retorted. "I'm thinking Trinity, here. The Father, the Holy Ghost, and the Son."

"The Son? Trinity? Are you out of your mind?" God looked from side to side for support, but there was no one else in the room.

"Take it or leave it." Jesus shrugged his shoulders. "It doesn't matter squat to me."