EDITOR’S NOTE: This article appears in the March 22, 2004, issue of National Review.
INT. SMALL CANDLELIT ROOM
It’s the Last Supper. The Apostles are gathered around the table, with their spouses (and spouse-equivalents). Jesus sits at the center of the table, gazing wisely at his company.
A simple meal, yes, but a fine one.
What’s interesting is that the bread and the wine were both produced in a sustainable way.
Really? I didn’t know that.
We know a guy who produces all of his own stuff, totally organically. You should try his artisan cheeses.
That would be nice. But I may not have time to do it. I don’t have much time left to walk among you.
One of you will betray me, one who is eating with me now.
What are you talking about? That’s crazy!
One of us? C’mon!
Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just sharing info, here.
Excuse me, I hate to interrupt, but I’ve been going over the bill, and did somebody order a separate entrée?
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