Been Lookin Fer Jesus

An old cross-eyed man with a thick, slurring southern accent hails my attention as I pass by the bar.

“I been lookin’ fer Jesus,” he tells me.

“So 'ave I,” I answer unintentionally dawning the same drunk southern drawl.

“Caint find’em though.”

“Me neither. D'you check ouside?”

“Yup, jus came from the bathroom too, and he wudn’t thar neither.”

“He's a sly mother fucker.”

“Yup.”

“Fer a man whose s’posed to be all round he sure is good at keepin subtle.”

“He ain’t all round. I think they threw him in prison.”

“How’d ya hear that?” I wondered.

“Well all my friens that’s been to prison say they find him thar.”

“Whatdya think he’s in for?”

“I dunno, but folks is always bringin 'im up when they talkin bout lyin and sinnin.”

“Must be a real rough fellow. Regular Al Capone.”

“Worse than Al Capone,” said a burly long bearded man sitting next to us. He threw back a shot and turned around wide-eyed. “They killed Al Capone. This Jesus feller, tried to kill’em but he up and scaped.”

“How’d he scape?” I asked.

“Dunno, but I hear he was slow about it. Too cocky. That was his prolem. That’s why they caught‘im gain. Didn’t kill’em second time round tho. They knew not to double cross ‘im. They learned thar lesson. Stead they compermised and threw’im in prison.”

“Huh,” grumbled the cross-eyed man staring back at both of us. “That splains why he’s so famous and why everyone is always talking bout’em. He’s so good at scapin and so darn mean everybody’s worried he might scape gain and get at’em.”

“I think I’ll stop lookin around for’im,” I decided.

“Damn right. Folks is foolish fer tryin to come ‘cross him.”