Christ walked into the nightclub with his gun hidden in his waistband with a Mexican-style holster. It was a snub-nose little ditty all shiny with a decorative wooden handle. He had carved a little cross into it. He walked up to the bar with a purposefully slow swagger. His hips swung back and forth like a supermodel. A man with a tough sneer and a broad chest eyed him suspicious. "Damn queer," the Italian clubber muttered. Christ heard him but he just ignored him. His fingers itched for his gun but he knew it wasn't worth it. His blood ain't worth the bullets, he thought. His blood ain't worth the bullets. The Italian clubber would be face down in the puke, dirt, sweat covered dance floor with blood slowly pooling around his head. His girlfriend Isabella would be crying like the widow she would be. But bullets ain't worth his blood. His blood ain't worth the bullets.
Christ rapped on the bar and said to the dark Irish bartender. "Whiskey. Cheapest you got." The bartender looked at him cockeyed and tossed together some kind of fruity drink, some vodka creation with a "-tini."Christ gave him a real dirty sneer but gave him thanks and money and drank the drink graciously. Tangy. He scanned the audience until he found her. Her name was Fraulina Amorie. She was a pendulous woman with blond hair and a creamy complexion. Christ tapped the butt of his gun and swigged his drink and tossed it to the bartender.
He approached her with a sure-faced walk. She was laughing with a slight friend, a bespectacled girl with a punched-in face and a boar like snout. Her tusks scraped her arm bloody raw every time she took a drink of her chocolate mixer. Fraulina stood with her hands on her hips as if she wasn't aware she was being stared at by every man who was neither blind, dead, nor gay. She swung back and forth with a little laugh and a rhythm sway – the music thumped in her heart and was hot to make a move. She wanted nothing more to dance on the dance floor but she realized the inherit risks of moving in such a way. Last time she was at a club and danced ten men swarmed about her with ready drinks and slobbering stares and nothing else to say or dance. All good men, she decided. Good men but decidedly piggish people. All the men were at bay and she dared not risk herself bodily harm by dancing. Why must every man take a good dance move to mean something overtly sexual and seductive, she wondered. The answer was in her hips and motherly bosom.
So she stood with a disinterested hand on her hip and Christ approached with his hand tucked into his belt. He wore the brown dusty clothes of a time-traveler – a Western man. He tipped his wide-brimmed hat and spoke in a deliberate slow drawl that made him sound ignorant. "Hello ma'am." Fraulina looked up at him and stood back in surprise. That face, she thought. She had seen that face a million times in Mexico trinket shops, emblazoned on dinner plates and decorative big candles. That face. Those sunken eyes, dark circles, those pits, those pools, those deep sad understanding knowing eyes. Those cheeks thinly draped with skin and flesh, drooping like an old man. That beard that pointed forever north and that moustache that pointed forever south. His hair was swept to one side and hung like tattered pieces, sticking out haphazardly from his hat.
"Who are you?" she asked quivered lip. She knew who he was.
"Fraulina Amorie," he shot back at her with a focused eye. He said with such confidence and abruptness she almost took this as his name. It seemed as if he was answering her question rather than posing his own.
"Who wants to know," she said back.
"Or should I call you Miss Amorie."
"Fraulina will do fine."
"I have come here for you Fraulina."
She shifted her eyes from his face down to his hip. She could see his pants bulged out slightly at his waist. She looked further down to his brown pants down to his brown shoes. Good walking shoes she noticed. "And who are you?"
God, he thought – her hips were wide. Very wide. He nodded his head in confirmation. "You know who I am."
She shrugged. Surely this must be a dream, she thought. Christ walks. The earth suddenly shook and she looked behind the bearded time-traveler to the bar where she saw a big broad-chest muscular Italian man coming forth with a raised eyebrow and a decided sneer. The Italian looked meaner than a pit bull and he was cracking his knuckles ready to fight for Fraulina. He had eyed her the whole evening and was angered to see her talking to this unfashionable dirty unkempt queer. Christ felt the subtle vibrations and realized what was to come next. All he could do was move his hand to the handle of his gun and wait for the Italian to make his move.
The Italian grabbed Christ's collar, which stirred up some dust and made the Italian sneeze. Christ took this opportunity to turn around and swat the man's hand off of his collar. The Italian looked at the bearded and soft-cheeked man with the soft sunken eyes, who had his hand down in his pants looking at him with a funny queer smile which angered the Italian even more. "Who the fuck do you think you are you queer! Go back downtown to your cock-and-balls bar." The Italian swung his big heavy fists into Christ's face – one hit him in the cheek with a loud thwap and the other fist found its way square into his jaw. Blood streaked out of Christ's mouth and the patrons heard a tinkling noise as a tooth jumped and rested on the floor.
What happened next shook all that saw it. Many people never quite recovered from the incident and others deny it even happened. At this point, Fraulina was standing there confused and terrified. Her friend, the Boar, grasped her by the arm and begged her to flee with her but Fraulina was so terrified and intrigued that she stood still and refused to budge until she saw what she knew to be inevitable. She stood slack-jawed and waited for what she expected. The Boar ran off and other patrons were backing up making plenty of space for the brawling couple. Christ stood with one hand rubbing his aching jaw and the other hand still in his pants. He was slumped and leaning over, while leaning away from the Italian. Blood was streaming down his jaw giving him the appearance of a rabid blood-thirsty animal. His eyes were totally ablaze and there was the sudden smell of ozone. He started to laugh, quiet at first and then building momentum until his laugh startled all the patrons into a dead silent hush. He laughed and laughed, a giant mad guffaw, while blood streaked down his jaw and onto his dusty clothes. The Italian stood with his arms up ready for Christ to retaliate but the loud laughter unnerved him. In the throes of laughter Christ started forward with a slight step and an imperceptible movement. The Italian sensed this with the instincts of a threatened animal and with great fear spasmodically moved back, slipping in the blood that had pooled beneath his feet. His feet searched for solid ground but couldn't find any traction and the entire weight of his body was thrown back as he landed on the floor with a great thud. This angered the dark Italian but he was too taken with fear to act upon it. He got on his knees and then got on his haunches and just cowered there looking at the mad bleeding man.
Without warning Christ stopped. Total silence filled the room and everyone stood utterly tense. What was his next move? With a great guttural growl, he hocked a bloody loogie on the Italians face, right below his eye on his cheek dripping down to his lip. The Italian's body quivered with such anger he overcame his momentary fear and stood up with a fearsome thrust and swing that allowed him to perform a ferocious uppercut. With inhuman speed, or maybe just precognitive ability, Christ sidestepped the punch and with his free arm locked the Italian's arm next to his body and with a twist began to throw the heavy burly man, with expert manipulation of his weight and his opponent's kinetic energy. As he was throwing the Italian with one arm and his entire body he pulled out his hand from his pants, grasping ready the snub-nosed gun he kept concealed there. With one swift movement he threw the Italian while simultaneously shooting him in the head with his gun. The gun let out an impossibly big and loud load that seemed supercharged with a blue electricity. The shot blew the Italian's head clean off his body, though it seemed to have completely exploded rather than actually been shot off. The lifeless body was thrown behind Christ. The gaping watching Miss Amorie frantically sidestepped the body, narrowly escaping its trajectory.
The whole nightclub crowd then began to stir into a frenzy and people started shouting and pushing and everyone at once tried to escape out the only door. Amidst the confusion Christ grabbed the arm of Fraulina Amorie, who stood statue still in a terrified awe. Fraulina suddenly became quite scared as the now bloody brown-coat man stood with his small snub-nose gun pointed right at her chest. Christ saw the expression in her face and quickly holstered his gun with an apology. "Don't be scared. I'm here to save you."
"Who are you!" she screamed.
"You already know that," he said in a quick sharp voice.
"What do you want from me?"
"I want you not to die. I'm not here to secure something you can give me but rather you yourself."
Fraulina looked confused but Christ realized he didn't have much time to explain before the local authorities came to the club to apprehend him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pendant. The pendant was a red crystal heart set in a silver background of a cross. The pendant hung on a string of human bone rosary beads. He quickly started counting the beads, with agile fingers and a quick thumb.
"Why me?" Fraulina eyes began to tear up.
Christ stood stony face, continuously counting until Fraulina's welling eyes turned into audible sobs. He stopped his ritual and looked at her with serious eyes. "Your hips . . . they're so . . . big."
"What!" Fraulina's crying abruptly stopped as she stood offended by the bearded man. A swirling wind, a storm seemed to surround them, picking up bottles and papers and Styrofoam cups. Sirens could be heard faintly.
"Your hips. They are the gateway."
Fraulina slapped Christ. He looked at her amazed and bewildered. "Don't do that," he said. "Gateway for what you pig!" she shrieked.
"Don't be so foolish. Your hips are the gateway for humanity. The key to humanity's salvation. There are men who wish to destroy you. There are women who would like to see you destroyed. You are too worthy to be let alone, to be defiled and destroyed. I have been sent here to rescue you from these animals. Your hips are big enough to give birth to mankind and therefore you are an asset in the salvation of mankind. Do you comprehend?" Christ went back to counting his beads, this time more furious than ever for the sirens grew to a fever pitch and then suddenly stopped.
Two uniformed men with guns popped in at the door with guns drawn. Seeing Fraulina in the grasp of the reported bearded man they trained their guns on the bearded man's head and barked orders at him. "Let her go!" "Put down your guns," he answered back. "Let her go!" they answered this time more fiercely waving their guns about.
"I can't. I'm taking her to a place you can't touch her." Christ grabbed Fraulina more tightly. With one last incantation he counted the last bead and a blue aura began to form around them. Christ immediately placed the pendant around her neck, pushing the crystal into her bosom. She began to disintegrate into particles and faded as she was sucked up in the opening vortex of the time rift. When she had completely faded the gunmen first stood with total amazement but then realized their opportunity to shoot. Unlucky for them Christ realized their opportunity before them and with the skill of an expert gunslinger unholstered his gun and shot the two guns of the men. Their guns mostly disintegrated in a crackling blue electric explosion; however some bits remained and became minor shrapnel which hit them in the arm, the chest, and some in their face. The explosion also was so forceful it completely disintegrated their hands. Both men fell, pushed back, blinded by shrapnel, and completely crippled by excruciating pain. Christ knew they hadn't suffered mortal wounds and began to focus on the time rift, using his natural innate skill to time-travel rather than relying on a time-space crystal. In a flash he was gone and with a sonic boom and resulting crackling electricity the rift sealed up completely. There was complete eerie silence – only interrupted by the cries and moans of the crippled, handless men.