Hat Shop Boys

The search for the life of a little white dog

Merry lead-up-to-Christmas!

I bet you’ve all been wondering where I have been.

I am currently on a very distant floor of the building in which the entire multiverse is housed, fulfilling mostly urgent duties in The War of the Bees, the second book in Gabrielle’s Tales to Her Granddaughter; and things are rather dire or I would have reported in before.

All the bees are at war; and with them the cosmos itself. Great Beetown has fallen to the enemy, and Queen Beelizabeth is all but dead. She will never recover. The huge speculatium store of Great Beetown has been intentionally dispersed by means of a nuclear weapon in order to keep it from falling into enemy hands, and the insatiable all-swallowing entropus has joined the enemy.

Gabrielle has called the angels themselves into the battle, wielding the great sword of Nokejō, which was created from the compacted remains of an entire galaxy. It is the most fearsome weapon in the multiverse. Few can wield it; and even Archangels do so at their own peril.

Sophia and her entourage (including me) have already died once by the hands of evil people, and worse is yet to come. According to the curse which Sophia invoked upon herself, we will all die five more times before it is over.

So I’ve been too damn busy to write lately.

However.

There’s a great demand for reports from my past about my life with Jesus. At least two people have asked about it over the last six months. Since, generally speaking, no one asks me about anything ever, this is a 200% increase over the last decade.

I have been so very busy in my central role as Sophia's dog guardian and mentor in Gabrielle’s Tales to Her Granddaughter, I’ve had too little time to devote to my memoirs. You might think that writing memoirs about the missing years of Jesus was a priority, but no. People haven't known about this stuff for 2000 years and so the need to out it now does not seem pressing to me.

Nonetheless, I feel there should be some kind of a record about this. I was talking to the universe about it just last week, and we agreed that it was about time someone filled in the missing years, which, of course begin critically with the teenage years, which, let's admit it, everyone would, at least in their own case, conveniently rather forget. Jesus led a very average teenage life — in fact, the whole point of being born as a human was to experience an average life, not an exceptional one, although that did not work out quite as planned – and his average teenage life had an average number of teenage embarrassments in it. That is to say, it was almost totally embarrassing, like all average teenage lives, and even Jesus himself felt sheepish or even bad about some stuff and tried to live it down.

Bottom line, folks, there was a cover-up.

There is always a cover-up.