Because he finds the getup generates sympathy among most onlookers. As Jesus, Bill tries to embrace the role as best he can—beard, wig, robe—to create an accurate depiction in case any impressionable children should happen to be watching. And so, when Jesus walked into Burger King he flipped tables in keeping with historical tradition. Well, at first he tried to flip a booth—for booths were not yet invented back when he was alive. Failing, Bill informed a staring child, “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you,” and to prove it he shifted to a stand-alone table and flipped it, followed by another, and another, much to the chagrin of the front counter worker who requested politely that he cease. Bill shouted then—oh how he shouted—“YOU HAVE TURNED BURGER KING INTO A DEN OF LIES.” For Jesus had seen the Impossible Whopper commercials that duped participants regarding their consumption of “beef,” when in actuality they’d been tricked into eating Impossible Whoppers, and he’d noted how Burger King, the corporation, had lied—were lying—to commercial participants, and as Bill’s mother told him when he was a child, “The Bible says, ‘Lying lips are an abomination to the LORD,’” a sentiment Bill had taken to heart, especially when method acting as the LORD. Stepping up to collect his mobile order, Jesus held his Impossible Whopper high and shouted to the restaurant congregants: “THIS IS MADE ENTIRELY FROM PLANTS AND EVERYONE MUST KNOW.” When asked to depart the premises—for the police would be called upon the Christ if he did not comply—Bill took his final shot: “I HAVE TRIED EVERY BURGER IN DES MOINES,” he said, “AND FROM ONE KING TO ANOTHER, THESE MONSTROSITIES ARE NOT…”—here Jesus paused for dramatic effect—“KING OF ANYTHING.” On his way out, Bill demonstrated his utmost contempt by dunking his uneaten Impossible Whopper into a swinging-door trash receptacle, then exited the temple, hopped on his moped, and drove off, once more ascending into the heavens.
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Robbie Maakestad is Senior Editor for The Rumpus and writes from San Diego where he directs an M.A. in Writing program. He’s writing two books: nonfiction, about Jerusalem’s City of David archaeological site, and fiction, about Bill Murray. He’s been published in Gulf Coast, Boulevard, and The San Diego Union-Tribune, among others. Follow him @RobbieMaakestad.