Oh, it was Easter.
Did you find all of your eggs?
And candy rabbits?

Would He sit with you?
Would He eat your Easter ham?
Do you have a soul?

Somehow I picture Jesus pulling the nails out of his hands and driving them into the Holy Day Pig's Ass to ensure even cooking temperature throughout the hunk of swine flesh, consistently roasted and honey-glazed perhaps with pineapple so that you can get into Heaven and sit before The Father upon your earthly demise whereupon you will gorge yourself on Kosher bacon cheese burgers, fluorescent fowl's embryo, and cacao leporidae. Praise His Name!