modified by Matt Giwer
Customer: You sold me a dead Messiah.
Shopkeeper: They are all dead for some time or other I suppose.
Customer: It has been more than three days.
Shopkeeper: Maybe this one is a late resurrecter.
Customer: It has been two bloody months!
Shopkeeper: "No man knoweth the hour ... "
Customer: Don't give me that Sunday School garbage, this Messiah is dead and he is not coming back.
Shopkeeper: "Ye of little faith ..."
Customer: Stop that! Look. It's not in a grave. It not moving. No angels hovering. It is dead, dead, dead.
Shopkeeper: Is not. I'll show you. (whispers, "they're out of wine") See? It moved.
Customer: Did not. You nudged its cross.
Shopkeeper: Did not.
Customer: It's dead! You can see right here where you've nailed it to its cross.
Shopkeeper: Messiahs are SUPPOSED to be nailed to their crosses.
Customer: I'll prove its dead. (grabs up the cross and bangs it face down on the counter) Dead! Dead! Dead! Dead! Dead! Dead!
Shopkeeper: After all it has been through before getting on the cross that's a dawdle.
Customer: It's dead I tell you.
Shopkeeper: I give up. I want a satisfied customer. I'll trade you for this very lovely Galilean messiah.
Customer: I've never heard of that breed. Are you sure it's a real messiah?
Shopkeeper: I should know. I've sold enough of them.
Customer: I'll take it.
Three fortnights later.
Shopkeeper: Satisfied with the Galilean?
Customer: Not on your bloody life.
Shopkeeper: (exasperated tone) What's the problem this time?
Customer: I only had it for fourty days and it flew straight up into the sky and I haven't seen it since.
Shopkeeper: That's what Galilean Messiahs do.
Customer: You didn't warn me.
Shopkeeper: Tell you what. If it's not back in a thousand years I'll give you a new one.
Customer: A thousand years!?!?! I won't live that wrong.
Shopkeeper: That's the risk you take owning a messiah.