Master of Vyšší Brod, Mistr Vyšebrodský [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
The fierce desert sun was finally beginning to disappear over the horizon; a dishevelled and decidedly disgruntled man limped towards the outskirts of Bethlehem leading an old donkey with his heavily pregnant betrothed on its back. Words are very important in many ways, for example, betrothed is not the same as married, you were not married until you had carried your bride over the threshold and consummated the relationship, but as far as Joseph was concerned any consummation had been confined to his dreams and the occasional unexpected nocturnal emission, therefore Marys current condition was giving him pause for thought. As the temperature dropped, a lively wind sprung up redistributing the sand and depositing it in every available orifice.
“I don’t see why the bloody tax collectors couldn’t have come to Nazareth” complained the man called Joseph, ninety bloody miles, and how is a man supposed to earn the money to pay tax when he spends half his time traipsing across the bloody country, I’ve got a table and chairs to finish for old methuselah, and of all times of the year we have to come during Saturnia, not that I hold with these roman festivals and their blasphemous Gods”. His wife Mary sighed in exasperation, “are you ever going to stop complaining” she said, “it’s alright for you, countered Joseph, sitting up there like lady bloody muck, I’m the one walking with grit in his sandals and sand up his”, “there’s no need for that sort of talk” cut in Mary, anyway I can hardly walk when I’m about to give birth anytime soon”. “That’s not my bloody fault” snapped Joseph, instantly regretting it, this was an unresolved issue and pregnant women’s hormones, when in flux don’t make for balanced debate. They fell into an uncomfortable silence, “anyway” said Mary, determined to get the last word in, “you want to watch what you’re saying, if the Romans hear you, you will be the first person in our family to be crucified, and that’s no way to set an example to a child”. Joseph could feel her angry glare burning into the back of his tunic, and they both retreated into their own thoughts.
“So”, said Joseph in an attempt to break the uneasy silence, “what are you going to call the child”? I’ve already told you, why don’t you ever listen, the angel Gabrial told me he would be called Jesus” and remind me again said Joseph, how exactly did you get pregnant”? “I told you” Said Mary, “I was visited by the holy spirit”, “holy spirit my arse” sneered Joseph, more like Yahway’s holy spirit after you had too many wines at the inn during Passover.” “How dare you accuse me of something like that, and even if I had wanted to, I was too busy holding your tunic out of the way when you were throwing up in the back yard after too much beer, as usual.” Cursing himself for bringing up that particular episode, Joseph stopped and emptied his sandals of grit for the umpteenth time, when he had finished he stretched his back, and looking up at the darkening sky proclaimed, “I swear that bloody star is following us.”
Finally, Bethlehem was in sight, it should have been a positive thing, but Joseph was in no mood to find positives in anything, “it’s going to be a real bastard finding somewhere to stay” he said emphasising, at least to Mary’s mind, the word bastard. “Don’t you dare call our son a bastard” she snapped back, “our son”, countered Joseph incredulously, “ our son, do I have to remind you that from my side of things there’s been no consummating, that last word accompanied by joseph miming a pair of air quotation marks, and suddenly two weeks ago you’re miraculously pregnant and about to pop, immaculate conception and the shortest gestation period in history, what sort of fool do you take me for”. Mary for once kept her council, and not for the first time wondered why bloody Gabrial hadn’t had a quiet word with Joseph while he was there. Not that Mary herself remembered much about the encounter, at first she thought it had been a dream, and that her weight gain was down to her sudden craving for those sweet cakes at the bakery.
As Joseph had predicted there wasn’t a room to be had anywhere, at the last Inn they tried, the landlord seeing Mary’s condition offered his stable, “better than being on the street” he said, and the weary coupled accepted.
“A stable, a bloody stable” fumed Joseph, “If this is Gods baby he could have booked us a room at the Inn at the very least.” Joseph made sure the donkey had food and water, when he returned he found Mary laying back in the straw, holding her belly, and moaning, “I think the baby’s coming she gasped. “Jesus Christ, already”! said Joseph, it wasn’t a curse he had ever used or heard before, but it was quite satisfying and kind of appropriate. “Don’t take my sons name in vain, that’s blasphemy” snapped Mary, and then wondered to herself where in the name of God she got that saying from. Changing the subject before another argument broke out she said to Joseph, “Make yourself useful, go and find someone to help”. Relieved Joseph headed for the Inn, women’s plumbing wasn’t something he had any desire to become familiar with, I should check the bar first he thought, and for the first time since they had left Nazareth he felt a smile form on his face. Ordering a beer he asked the barmaid if she knew anything about babies, the barmaid, was a rather large and intimidating woman with a face like the stern of Noah’s ark, “making them or birthing them? she said suspiciously, fixing Joseph with a look that would have turned lesser men into a pillar of salt, Joseph shuddered at the thought of making anything with this woman and hastily said, “birthing, my wife’s about to have a baby in the stable”, “that’s ok then said the barmaid, I won’t have anything to do with all that dirty mucking about, a statement received with relief by all the men with-in earshot. Joseph watched as the barmaid cum midwife shouldered her way through the crowded bar dispersing those too slow to see the incoming danger like so many skittles. “I will be there in a minute,” shouted Joseph to her retreating back and promptly ordered another beer.
When Joseph finally returned to the stable, in, it must be said, a far more relaxed state of mind, he found a newly formed sisterhood. Women going through the pain of childbirth have a tendency to put the blame for their discomfort on the man who had, if only for a few minutes been the initial cause, of course Joseph was quite innocent on this front but the holy spirit wasn’t about, and Joseph was the closest thing available. The barmaid cum midwife whose name was Bertha Pankhurst had certain beliefs when it came to men, none of which came under the category of positive, she had spent the last twenty minutes explaining why all men were shits, “we have rights” she had said on more than one occasion. Joseph approached his wife with that sort of lopsided grin that is only available after three beers in quick succession. “You’ve been drinking said Mary, Joseph, now mentally relaxed made the mistake of justifying himself, “a man has a right to have a drink after a long day” he said with misplaced confidence. “Rights” snarled Mary, “you want to talk about rights do you, well I’ll give you a woman’s right” and swinging her right fist punched him directly on the nose. A stunned Joseph looked at Mary through watering eyes and said “hey, that hurt”, “Not enough” interjected Bertha, and stepping forward she kneed him in the testicles and as he bent forward in pain caught him with a right uppercut laying him out on the straw,” that’s how you deal with drunken Pigs” said bertha with a satisfied smile on her face.
Joseph rejoined the world about an hour later, by which time things had moved on. Mary was on her back legs apart, and using language that quite shocked Joseph. “Oh, woken up have we said Bertha in what Joseph felt under the circumstances was unnecessarily sarcastic, make yourself useful and empty that manger and put some fresh straw in it, the baby will be here any minute.”
Several miles above the stable a gleaming silver spaceship sat unnoticed by anyone except for three supposedly wise men who had been following its light under the misapprehension that it was a star that would lead them to the saviour. Wise in the way of men they might have been, but like most men they had no idea when it came to appropriate presents, the Gold would obviously come in handy but Frankincense and Myrrh, what a new mother would use them for, God alone knew. In the spaceship two aliens from the planet Jewdia, humanoid in appearance but in reality from an altogether different dimension watched events below on a high-definition screen. The impregnation of the woman had gone to plan and even the reduced gestation had gone fairly unnoticed, “tell them it’s a god and they will believe anything they are told, said the one called Jehovah. “So primitive” responded Adam, “and to think we were once like them”, both men laughed feeling mightily superior. “I’m looking forward to getting back to Jewdea and make preparation said Jehovah, “We will keep an eye on things remotely and in about two thousand of their earth years, when our beliefs have taken over the planet it will be ready for us to return and take over, personally I fancy a villa on one of those nice islands we flew over on the way in. His associate frowned, “do you think it’s wrong to mess with nature like this said Adam, we are above nature now said Jehovah arrogantly, by teaching them our beliefs and customs we are guiding them, improving them. With a flick of a switch the ship winked out of existence and returned to its own dimension leaving the humans to bugger things up on their own. The ships leaving went unnoticed by everyone other than three supposedly wise men who were now totally lost in the desert and didn’t make it to the stable for another fourteen days.
Plans like this are all well and good, but over-confidence and ego will come back to bite you, some five hundred earth years later another spaceship arrived from yet another dimension, the occupants were from a small planet called Islama, which much like Judea had a dying sun, they had a remarkably similar plan to the Judeans and deposited a character called Mohammed to guide the primitive humans in a direction that suited them. Two different competing dogmas, what could possibly go wrong.
© Gareth Mehigan 2025
