The Office Messiah

The Office Messiah Cover art for The Office Messiah by Sarina Dorie

You think your office is bad? At least you don’t have an intern who turns the ink in the copy machine to wine or someone who brings loaves and fishes into the office and stinks it up. Imagine “Office Space” meets the Holy Bible. “The Office Messiah” was originally published by Bards and Sages. This quirky comedy is about 1240 words.


The Office Messiah

by Sarina Dorie


“Blessed are those who giveth a stapler unto me,” said Jesus, looming over the Formica counter of the front desk.

Gladys frowned up at him in his long white robes and hippie beard. The new guy was definitely a bit much at times, even for a former deity. “No,” she said, and resumed filing yesterday’s invoices.

“Love thy neighbor as thyself . . . and thou shalt giveth a new stapler unto me,” he said more firmly.

Human Resources always sent her the rejects no one wanted to deal with and she had to figure out what to do with them. And they had to send her this son-of-a-God problem they couldn’t fire when she was swamped with more prayers to file at the agency than ever.

She wiped her horn-rimmed glasses on her sweater and replaced them on her nose, buying herself a moment to think. “Look kid, we don’t have a budget for new office supplies. Use the one in the copy room.”

The new guy trudged away. A few hours later, Gladys received complaints that no one could get any work done with all the parables Jesus kept telling. Worse yet, he flooded the bathroom in order to show others how he could walk on water. It wasn’t long before he found something else to pester her about.

“My paperclips need to be reneweth,” he said.

Gladys noticed his feet were now bare and he wore a crown of thorns on his head. She raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me, where are your shoes, son?”

“The Lord hath no need for material—”

“Company policy, all employees need to be fully dressed. Get your shoes on or come back when you have them. And hats aren’t allowed.” She would have liked to resume filing prayer reports, so she wouldn’t be chastised for not keeping up with productivity, but no, she had to deal with this failed divinity.

“What dost thou knowest of suffering of the body when one compares that to the suffering of the soul? Oh, and by the way, you may reneweth my paperclips.”

Gladys could feel her blood pressure rising. “And I needeth you to get your shoes on,” she said. When he didn’t move, she added, “Or no paperclips.”


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