The junior Prophet arrived with an entourage of four to minister to his needs. He was over six feet tall now and looked like a movie star. He had red hair that fell straight to his shoulders, and oh yes freckles on his face. With a combination of his mother’s and his father’s good looks and strong features, he appeared like a cross between good and evil. The woman at the Institute couldn’t take their eyes off him. He barely acknowledged them, but he noticed their glances. I need to warn this kid to use protection. His real age is now about sixteen.
Oh boy Junior said to his assistants, “I’m too young for this. I’m a child in a man’s body. Why won’t the Almighty give me time to grow up? I’m not ready for this sex thing. I haven’t even figured out how to play with myself yet. This being a philosopher genius isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. I thought being a Prophet made you immune from all this worldly stuff. Does this mean I’m not really immortal? I guess so because what I really want to do is cry like a baby, but how will it look if some six foot tall hunk starts to bawl like an infant?”
“Dad, where are you when I need you most? Off screwing around I guess. I don’t understand why you do that in the first place. I guess if you didn’t I wouldn’t be here. I have a new message from the Messenger ladies and gentleman, the bloodline stops here. No Oops family values for me, oh no, I’m going to be celibate. I assume that means I don’t have to cut anything off just abstain. If it doesn’t, I take back everything I said. Problems, problems, being me isn’t a job for an ordinary human. Thank God I’m not. Now I’m talking to myself.”
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