Author's notes: This is a low-class, tacky story with a low-class, tacky title. By opening said low-class, tacky story, you have indicated that you are...well, the implication is obvious. If you want to comment on this low-class, tacky story, please do. A low-class, tacky person like myself can use the feedback. If you want, instead, to consign me to the depths of Hell...well, I know what to do with flames from low-class, tacky people. Ho Ho Ho

And the order went forth from Caesar saying that all men of Judea must be registered. So Joseph the Gullible traveled to his hometown of Bethlehem, for he was an old Judean from way back, knew the fight-song and bought the bumper sticker. And with him went his wife, Naomi, who was with child...

...not with his child, mind you. According to the virtuous, virginal Naomi, the child was God's. She said that an angel of the Lord had appeared to her and said, "Hey, make love, not war. If you can't be with the one you love, honey, love the one you're with. You and I can make magic together, sugar." This, she knew, was a sign that she had been chosen to bear God's child. Joseph, who was not called Joseph the Extremely Perceptive--and for DARN good reason--believed her and did not lie with her. Making him pretty much the only man in Nazareth who hadn't.

They made their way over the rough and bumpy road to Bethlehem, Joseph on foot and Naomi on a donkey. One cannot emphasize enough how rough and bumpy the Bethlehem byways were. And, let's face it, donkeys are not the recommended mode of transport for highly-pregnant women. And so it was that, as they arrived in Bethlehem, Naomi was really ready to relax in a nice, comfortable inn, preferably with a whirlpool.

But everyone else had come to Bethlehem to register, too; it was old-home week in Bethlehem, and Joseph had not remembered to book ahead. It became progressively clearer to Joseph and Naomi that no one had left the light on for them. Naomi found her center and then calmly promised Joseph that God would be the only one touching her if Joseph did not find her a place to lie down.

Joseph proceeded to the next inn and explained the matter in full. The innkeeper, hearing that he had the chance to entertain the Almighty's fetus, laughed until he cried and then shooed the silly cuckold away. He had almost reentered his inn when he felt a tap on his shoulder. The woman, wife to the idiot, was standing in front of him. "I care not how you plead, young woman. You and your mad husband will find no rooEEEeeeAAK!" he ended, as Naomi took a firm grip on his genitals.

That night, Naomi and Joseph slept in the innkeeper's own room. Blessed be those who have seen the light...even if it be the stabbing light of agony.

In the middle of the night, Naomi felt her pains upon her. Realizing that she was two weeks early and blaming the donkey, she rose from her bed and went to the stable, intending to detach with love and a crowbar. But by the time she reached the cowering donkey, her water had broken, and Joseph came down just in time to faint into the resulting mess. Naomi reminded herself that this was a beautiful, natural event and prayed for drugs as she birthed the babe.

It was a boy. When Joseph regained consciousness and cleaned himself up, he was able to clean the baby too. They decided to name the child Blair because, hey, they had really wanted a girl.

And in the night, a group of handsome young shepherds came to the stable, saying that they had been told by a host of the heavenly...well, host...that they should come and worship the new babe. They brought as gifts some nice balls of yarn and a pot of lanolin. They stayed to worship just long enough for them to find out where the young mother lived and what days Joseph usually spent at market, and then they returned to their sheep.

Next in line at the stable were three kings. "Greetings, Queen of Heaven!" said the first king, causing Naomi to perk up a bit and pat her hair. "We are three kings, Balthazar, Melchior, and Hordac, come from the East to worship the new king of the Jews. We have followed a star, and, frankly, it's a toss-up between you and that nice threesome in the stable next door. We kind of had to go with young Jesus, because the star, from a couple light-years away, definitely seemed to be leaning more to the left. So we already gave away our good gifts. But to hedge our bets, we're going to go ahead and make a small presentation here, too."

Balthazar stepped forward first. "Mi mi mi miiiiiiii" he began.

"Born a dude in Bethlehem town,
Hair I bring to cover his crown.
Curls forever, ceasing never,
Radiant dusky brown."

The other two kings joined in:

"Oh, star of wonder, star of light,
Star with royal beauty bright.
Westward leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to a Guide tonight."

Next Melchior stepped forward.

"Algae shakes to offer have I,
Breakfast of a champion guy,
Healthily icky, hope he's not picky,
Best stuff that gold can buy."

Again the three kings harmonized:

"Oh, star of wonder, star of light,
Dragged us out of bed tonight.
We're adoring, but this kid's boring--
Adoration's finite.

Then Hordac stepped forward, with a final gift in a large earthen vessel:

"Lube is mine; its slippery goo
Eases sex between him and you.
Better than oil, clear and won't soil,
Same stuff that we use, too.

Naomi hoped desperately that this was the final chorus, as Curly, Moe, and Hordac stepped up to the plate for the final round:

"Oh, star of wonder, star so cool,
Star that brightens up the Yule,
The future's great; we anticipate
A beauty to make men drool."

As the not-so-wise men wandered off and Joseph nodded his head happily to the receding beat, Naomi unswaddled little Blair for a quick check...maybe they had the girl they wanted after all?

And so it came to pass that young Blair grew up wise, strong and beloved in his mother's house and his father's carpentry shop. But one day he wandered away. And when his frantically worried mother found him (having disengaged herself hurriedly from a visiting shep...um, old friend from Blair's birth) he was in the town University, arguing anthropology with the elders. The elders were amazed by his wisdom, his insight, his sheer chutzpah in daring to talk boldfacedly to the most wise and noble elders.

"Woman," they said (yes, in unison) as Naomi entered the University, "how is it that you have allowed your rather annoying young son to bother us in these hallowed halls?"

Naomi smiled with all the gentleness of an enraged sumo wrestler. "Is it not seemly that he should be in his father's house?" she asked, pointedly, as her gaze encompassed the group.

At this, all but one of the elders blushed heavily. The one who did not had been entertaining himself with the thought of young Blair as a willing and grateful research assistant, and he hardly noticed the furtive embarrassment of his colleagues as they all earnestly went back to their work.

The years passed, and Blair continued to grow in wisdom, strength, and beauty. As he grew older, he was himself sought out by the elders at the University. These wise men had long and enthusiastic private interviews with the luscious lad. The shepherds, too, who had so faithfully visited his mother all these years, now often stopped to spend time with Blair, and all concerned were convinced that he was blessed.

But one day when Blair was sitting in the sun, combing his long curly hair and wondering how he could get the darn smell of herbs out of it, a boy approached him. Nothing new, really. Blair resigned himself to hearing this youth's protestation before considering prostration, but the boy surprised him.

"Young Blair, I have news! There is one in the desert who speaks of you and your great wisdom. He says that you are the only man who can save him!"

This was a new idea for Blair. He instantly decided that if he could use all he had learned to help some poor deserted individual, it was his duty to try. "I have heard of such a man; is he not John the Baptist?"

"Nope. Jim the Sentinel."

"Huh?"

"Yeah...sorry, but John's already taken. You wouldn't have liked him anyway. Baptists...so conservative." He shuffled nervously. "But, you know, someone else--"

Blair bobbed in blissful blankness, the blazing beauty of his blue blinkers blinding the bashful boy. "I shall seek out this man and save him," he said, for once missing a pass. And with that Blair returned to his mother for only long enough to detach with love and lunch and all his worldly possessions. He then began his travels towards the great sandy plains.

Jim the Sentinel was about to go mad from sensory input--maybe the desert hadn't been his best plan ever, gritty sand everywhere--when he heard, saw, smelled, and felt the approach of the man he knew would save him. He strode eagerly towards the lovely vision approaching him and quickly added taste to the list of senses that had scoped out his Guide.

After a long and enjoyable, if slightly damp, pause, Blair spoke, his dulcet tones striking to the Sentinel's strong heart. "Dude, whoa! I mean, don't you want to talk or anything?"

The noble Sentinel cocked his head quizzically. "Is that anything like foreplay?"

"Um..."

"I don't need it!" And with that the stout warrior threw aside his furs to show off his awesome staff.

"Damn straight! Um, so to speak..." and with that Blair turned and backed into his lover's embrace.

"Blair...I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. It's not my first time." Thus showing that, although more honest than his mother, he had inherited her gift for understatement.

"But...all this sand. Why did I have to start having these senses in the middle of the damn desert?"

Before Jim could panic, Blair suddenly remembered the prescient gifts of his kingly benefactors.

"Wait, in my bag..."

And thus was Hordac's gift truly appreciated.

It only took a few days to exhaust Blair and cure his sentinel. Thereafter they decided that, in order to appeal to more readers, they probably should head out to find some potential participants in multiple-partner events. Their wanderings led them to the shore of the Sea of Galileo, where they met a group of sailors.

Blair walked up to the first among them, a tall Moorish gentleman. "Simon is your name, but I shall call you Banks because I found you here on the banks of Galileo."

Simon drew himself up to his full height. "I'm the Captain of the good ship Prospect," he growled...but then his heart was caught by the look of innocent wonder and, let's face it, lust on the face of the glorious man before him. "But you can call me Banks if you want to."

Blair gave a gracious grin to the cantankerous yet comely captain. "Aye Aye, Captain Banks!" He then turned to the others standing around picturesquely. "For the sake of exposition, you must be Rafe, H, Joel, and Connor!" They nodded in happy agreement...whatever this gorgeous guy said, they were down with it.

The mood was slightly dimmed when Blair spoke sadly. "Connor, I'm sorry. But we're aiming to be a family show here. If you were to be involved it would just be so...unwholesome."

Connor nodded resignedly. "You're right. I'll go hide myself in a cave."

Blair called after the dejected figure. "You're welcome to come back after a sex-change!" Then, remembering that such a thing would not be possible for two millenia, Blair felt a little guilty for leading her on.

The group looked at each other determinedly. They couldn't let Blair feel guilty...that was Jim's job! And so they took a few days to cheer the little fellow up, and much joy was had by all. In fact, so much joy was had that Blair worked right through Hordac's original gift, and they would have been lost were it not for the lanolin (a gift from the shepherds...Blair would have to remember to thank them again.)

But he was still feeling ever so slightly guilty--or at least the others were worried that he might be--and they were all worried that they were running short of lanolin. So Blair addressed the crowd that had gathered to watch them, saying "I shall pass this lanolin pot through the crowd, and a miracle will ensure that there is enough for us to continue our teachings." And lo, when the pot returned to his hands, it was overbrimming with lanolin. Also, they had managed to gain some bread and fish, so the day was really looking up.

Blair's proto-guilt assuaged and their lanolin-supply once again running dangerously low, they decided that they should go to MajorCrimes, a really hip night-club that catered exclusively to good-looking guys. Leaving the crowd behind, they turned towards the boat, since the club was on the far side of Galileo. But Jim put his hand out suddenly.

"I fear that one of us--probably me, since I'm not feeling guilty yet--will betray you, Blair!"

Blair's impossibly blue eyes, set off so well by his blue flannel tunic, filled with crystalline tears.

"You mean, you'd leave me for another? Other than Rafe, H, Joel, Simon and assorted onlookers, that is?"

Jim pulled him into a strong embrace. "NEVER! But it's almost as bad...I think...I think you might drown!"

The men surrounding them gasped in concerted horror. But Blair laughed blithely. "Never happen, big guy. See?" And he stepped boldly out. And indeed, the assembled crowd saw that Blair was standing, safe and sound, on the surface of the bay's clear waters.

"Is this a miracle?" The crowd cried cacophonously.

Blair frowned in confusion. "Um...no, where I come from it's called a sandbar. See, it goes all the way over to the other side, never more than a half foot under water!"

And there was much rejoicing. The joy was even more complete when Rafe reminded them that MajorCrimes would be sure to have plenty of olive-oil, this being the middle east and all.

And so the men went off across Galileo, walking blithely through the shallow waters. And behind them there was a great cry of farewell, with lingering calls and invitations going out to 'Blair Sandbar', who had taught the locals so much.

When they came to the club, a swinging night was already in progress. They ordered some suitably oily entrees, and within minutes the waiters and the chef had joined in their romp. And so a grand time (and Blair!) was had by all.

The guys knew that they faced a future of NC-17 rated bliss, and each one could hardly wait to start writing up his account. But those, my dear readers, are other tales. For the moment, assuming you made it to this point without a direct lightning-strike:

THE END.