Just Like Jesus

Every once in a while, a conversation walks into my brain and I write it down. More and more often, I take it and I try to turn it into something. But here's an example of an uncut stone, straight outta my grey matter and onto a flowery piece of notepaper that says "memos" at the top. I must have written this at my folks' place:

Marilyn: I just don't understand why you'd DO something like that.

John: I, I can't explain it, I feel like . . . it makes me feel alive.

Marilyn: Puttin' your life in danger and scarin' the livin' hell outta yer Momma? That makes you feel alive??

John: I know: it sounds---

Marilyn: Sounds crazy. You need t'nearly kill yourself to feel---

John: I don't want to . . . well . . . wait, no, yeah, yeah. That's kinda it: to be so close to death that you feel alive---that's what it is. It's a reminder. I don't know. You know how people talk about living on the . . . edge?

Marilyn: Uhhh, yeah?

John: And everybody thinks they're crazy?

Marilyn: Uh-huh. Sweetie that's cuz they usually ARE.

John: Well what if they were sane? Saner than everybody else?

Marilyn: Now, that's just---

John: No, I'm serious: think about it. What about Jesus?

Marilyn: What??

John: Seriously, listen, he went right up to the edge, everybody thought HE was crazy, right?

Marilyn: Oh, my Lord, so now you're Jesus??

John: Oh, come on, Mom, if I were Jesus would I be arguin' with my Momma? Hey wait a minute, that whole water and wine thing, he WAS arguin' with his Momma at first. (a mock "epiphany") Maybe, maybe I AM Je---

Marilyn: Alright, boy, you have lost your mind, that's enough. It's time you get ready for bed, come on now.

John laughs, then Marilyn joins, despite herself and he heads off to bed. End of scene.