Before THE END TIMES, before the election, before THE PR TEAM got ahold of him, The Second Coming of Christ was born.
Ten minutes before that, Doctor Rosedale-Grosse sped down ROUTE 23. The disgraced Doctor, who gained notoriety for his book “301 Disorders You Knew Existed but Couldn’t Quite Put Your Finger On,” and infamy for his book, “The View From The window of Your Mother’s Vagina,” was not a notoriously good driver.
What is worse, he wore thick white make-up; it kept dripping down his face, making the driving twice the hassle and sweating, twice the hindrance. He was in a rush, and did not stop despite the police taking notice of his driving skills and deciding to see where they went, lights flashing.
The disgraced doctor did not stop. He was on a mission. This mission came from The Maidens of The Soft Red Cloth, who, upon reading his infamous book, sought his help. His book’s message was simple: the first thing a child sees upon coming into the world will dictate his, or her temperament.
The mission was simple: be there to greet The Second Coming of Christ with all the joy in the world.
So, before THE INCIDENT, before The rapture and subsequent fall, two minutes before The Second Coming of Christ was born, the disgraced doctor arrived at the hospital. He ran, fake orange hair–thick and matted with makeup, bouncy red nose, half off, balloons in one hand, flowers in the other.
The police came in tow, four of them. The room was prophesized, the route cleared.
And so, before The Demon’s Rise, before THE MARRIAGE, before The Soft Red Cloth fell, thirty seconds before The Second Coming of Christ was born, the disgraced doctor burst into the delivery room. He checked aside the obstetrician and shoved the bouquet of flowers in between the legs of the mother of The Second Coming of Christ. As he did, the police burst into the room; night-sticks in hand, they beat the disgraced doctor back to the tune of screams and cries. The nurse on hand remained just level headed enough to catch The Second Coming of Christ as he came into the world as a bloodied Doctor Rosedale-Grosse lost consciousness and his balloons fell to the ceiling.
The obstetrician stood, nursing his elbow as the doctor was dragged from the room.
“I fuckin’ hate clowns,” one of the officers said as the doctor’s foot caught on the door jam.
The room quieted. The nurse placed The Second Coming of Christ into his mother’s arms, she was sweating, crying.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” his mother asked.
The obstetrician smiled, reassuring, “Of course, of course,” he said, “babies can’t remember anything from this point.”
Everyone let out a sigh of relief.