Got Jesus?

When I was 16 years old, my sister, Christi, was 20 and was going through an atheist or agnostic period of her life and wanted absolutely nothing to do with any religion, God, Jesus, or anything of the sort. This info will come in handy later.

Along with her dislike of religious things, apparently she hated WD-40, oil changes, car washes and windshield wipers, too. Her Jeep Wrangler, purchased less than two years prior, was in a sad, pathetic state because Christi is notorious for running her cars into their early graves.

She was having trouble with something in her steering mechanism, so she asked if my dad and I would take a look and help her out. We agreed. Saturday morning arrived and Christi showed up at the house with her friend, Chance, driving behind her in his car. She walked in, gave us the keys and said, "Thanks guys, I'll be back later to pick it up."

"What?" my dad responded, irritated but not surprised. "You're not staying to help us fix your car?"

"Why would I stay?" she asked.

"Because it's your car!"

"But we already made plans. Sorry. See ya!"

And off she went, leaving us with her mess to clean up. Like I mentioned before, she never used to take care of her cars, so of course nothing went according to plan. We tried to get her tire off, but it was so rusted on from years of neglect that not even our most powerful tools could get it off. We ended up taking it to a tire store to try their luck. After 20 minutes, they determined the lugnuts would have to be cut off and the studs replaced. Figures. We then went to Autozone to buy new studs. While we were standing in line, I decided to rummage through the 99-cent bin that's filled with crap they can't otherwise sell.

And then I spotted my sweet revenge for my sister's abandonment. The perfect bumper sticker.

I showed my dad and you could tell we were thinking the exact same thing. When we finally finished her car seven hours later, we added the finishing touch. We attached the sticker to her bumper to inquire of those driving behind her if they, too, "had jesus." We drove it back home and Christi never noticed.

Until three days later.

I remember it was a sunny day and I was standing in the kitchen getting a drink. That's when I heard Christi barrel into the driveway going 30 mph and I saw her slam her door with a hellish scowl  on her face. I looked immediately at her bumper and the sticker was gone.

"Oh. No. Here. It. Comes."

Quickly, I thought of escaping, but it was too late, she had already seen me. She threw open the door.

"What in the HELL is this?!" She held up the sticker. I felt the obligation to stand my ground, to take responsibility for my prank, to be a man. But my heart didn't communicate with my mouth quickly enough.

"I don't even know. Dad did it."

Betrayer! Traitor! Saboteur!

But my treason may have saved my life that day. She stormed downstairs to my dad's office and I heard my dad start laughing. Then I saw Christi fly up the stairs.

"You blame him! He blames you! I guess it magically showed up then!"

And with that, she was gone. Apparently, she didn't find the joke as funny as we did.