Deep under what the Villagers call 'Black Lake', there is a cave. It is dark, moist, and a bit moldy. On the outside it looks no different than any other cave. However, if you move aside the thick, green vegetation covering its mouth, you realize that this cave is as special as they come. For inside lives a person so special, so unique, that the world doesn't know how to handle him. Inside this dark, depressing, watery cave lies Old Gregg, a sad, lonely creature, neither human nor mermaid. With the body of a man, and the glowing white light of a woman's vagina, he knows not what he is. He has no recollection of the past, and knows not what the future has in store. So he paints his watercolors, drinks his Baileys Irish Cream, reminisces about the wonderful times he had in Home Economics class when he still went by the name Young Gregg, and cries himself to sleep, haunted by memories of his lost love, Howard Moon.
And he does not know he's beautiful.
This green, tutu wearing, sassy, seaweed haired scaly man-fish, with his mild British accent and his strange nature; if only someone were to tell him of his good qualities. If only someone were to love him. Maybe he would be happy. Maybe he could become sane again. Maybe he wouldn't have to resort to kidnapping tall, awkward, squinty-eyed men like Howard Moon just to feel like he could be appreciated by someone. Maybe he wouldn't be committing suicide tonight.
But there is no one to say these things, and never has been. So, tonight it's all going to end. He has the rope, he has a boulder to stand on, and he has the honest will to go through with it.
"Woe is me, the one I call 'Old Gregg'." Said Old Gregg. "Old Gregg is tired of this nightmare of a life he's been livin. All I do is paint amazing pictures and wash down my despair with Bailey's Irish Cream." He took another swig of the sweet alcoholic beverage. "There isn't any room for Old Gregg on this sad, deceitful world anymore. If Howard won't love me, who will?" Old Gregg burst into yet another batch of salty, watery tears.
"What is there to live for?" He cried out. Only the echo of the cave replied. It whispered Old Gregg's question back to him in a mocking, sarcastic tone. Gregg asked the question again, more to himself this time."If Jesus ever truly loved me, like my Home Economics teacher did, then why has he forsaken me so? Has he too, forgotten about Old Gregg? Every one has forgotten about Old Gregg." And with this being said, Old Gregg stepped up onto the boulder and stuck his head inside the shiny rainbow noose up above. He had spent the last week bedazzling it. If he was going to die, he was going to do it in style.
"I'm Old Gregg." He whispered to himself. Then, a little louder. "I have a Mangina." Then, as if it was a last battle cry to the world, he screamed "I'm Old Gregg and I have a Mangina!" He lifted up his pink tutu, revealing the white, God-like light from his Mangina underneath."I'm Olllllld Gregggggg!"
Old Gregg then kicked the chair from beneath his feet so that he might escape the cruel world around him through death. As he kicked the chair, the strangest thing happened. He was being lifted up! Being carried. The light from his Mangina was holding him up like a magnet. He screamed with fright. What was happening to him? He felt a slight, but not altogether unpleasant tickle coming from his nether regions as something more than light poured out of his Mangina. It was doing more than just glowing now. There was a hand coming out of the light! Old Gregg watched helplessly, as an arm, shoulder, torso, and finally a head climbed out of his Mangina. Old Gregg blinked away a layer of sweat from his eyes that this bizarre event had caused to break out all over his body. All of a sudden there was a glowing figure in front of him, picking him up and sitting him gently on the boulder that was going to be a tool used to commit suicide.
"Who- who are you?" Old Gregg asked breathlessly.
"Don't you know me?" The glowing man asked in a calming voice. It was both deep and soft at the same time. It had a smooth rustle to it that made Old Gregg's heart speed up in a sexy way, despite the present circumstances.
Old Gregg's eyes were starting to grow accustomed to the light. Now he could make out more than just a figure. This man was of average height. He was wearing a long white robe, but Old Gregg could tell that the figure's body was muscular underneath. He had a long beard and hair, both of a light brunette color. He immediately reminded Old Gregg of a young, sexy Dumbledore if the wizard was a Jew. This whole concept made Old Gregg's head spin.
"I- I don't know. I don't understand what's happening." Old Gregg tried to explain. He felt light headed. "I heard your cry of loneliness and now I am here to rescue you. I've been watching you for some time now. I've seen your loneliness, I've known your laments, and I've felt your pain."
"Who are you?" Old Gregg asked again. He had a feeling he knew, but he wanted this mysterious man to be the first one to say it. The man took a step closer, gave a shy, awkward smile. And said,
"My name is Jesus. I'm so happy to finally meet you. I've been dreaming of this moment for so long."