This story is about a dude named Elijah. For three years before this all went down, Elijah, had been kickin it solo in the wilderness east of the Jordan River. Picture it like Arizona or like the episode of Man vs. Wild where Bear Grylls goes to the Mojave Desert except if instead of drinking his own urine, Bear had super-smart ravens that would bring him bread and meat and whatnot. That’s pretty much what it was like for ole E-Jay. Apart from the occasional miraculous resurrection, it was pretty lame.
Finally, after three years of this, E-Jay gets a message from the Lord saying, “Go back and face your old nemesis King Ahab and tell him that I’m about to rock his world and, if he’s lucky, I might even send some rain his way because – let’s be honest – all the trees are dead.”
So E-Jay walks his emaciated self back to Jerusa-Vegas and heads straight for Ahab’s house (picture Master P’s house from Season 3 of Cribs, but with bigger dungeons). He rolls up to the door and says, “What up Ahab, you big dumbass?” (Yes, E-Jay has some stones.)
And Ahab’s all like, “Oh look, it’s the guy who ruined my life.” And E-Jay’s like, “Psssh, whateva, you ruined your own life when you stopped praying and started letting your whore wife manage your career.” And Ahab’s like, “Good point.”
So Elijah tells Ahab to text all the prophets of Asherah and all the prophets of Baal and everyone else who doesn’t think God is awesome and to tell them to meet him on top of this one mountain because he’s ready to make like Ron Artest and crack some skulls.
So everyone gets together up on Mount Carmel. And my boy E-Jay get’s up there in front of God and everyone and says, “Hey everybody. Thanks for coming out today. I think your gods suck.” (Like I said, the dude’s got some cojones.)
Now the thing to remember about the prophets of Baal and Asherah is that they’re pretty much the Twilight fans of 1500 BC. And by that I mean: they’re a bunch of little bitches. So no one says anything. They just twitter amongst themselves about how Elijah is a hater and how he kinda looks like Osama Bin Laden.
Hearing no objections, E-Jay keeps tearing them a collective new one. “Would you make up your minds already?! It’s always Edward this, Jacob that; I swear, whenever I’m with you people I can actually feel myself getting dumber. Wait for it…there it is! I don’t know math anymore.”
E-Jay tells them it’s time to figure out once and for all which supernatural being is a baller and which one(s) is a Betty White. He suggests they build two grills and throw a slab of Angus on each. One rule: they can’t use charcoal or matches or Girl Scout Juice to light them. They’ve got to ask their favorite supernatural superstar to start the grills for them.
Team Baal and Team Asherah may have been little bitches, but they also knew enough about E-Jay to know that if they backed down now, he’d put them on blast on his next LP, with a song called “God, Grills, and Girly-Men” or something like that. So they accept the challenge.
The Baalites and Asheraans go first. They put on a bunch of costumes like they’re going to a midnight premier and dance around their grill shouting out to their gods. It’s amateur hour at Mt. Carmel: half post-Prom field party, half MGMT video, all ammo for an embarrassing Facebook album. This goes on for the better part of the morning. As you’ve probably guessed, Baal and Asherah are about as real as Pam Anderson’s knockers so, of course, nothing happens.
Around lunchtime, Elijah has had enough. He starts dogging on the other prophets saying stuff like “maybe your gods are taking a leak, maybe they’re passed out on the pool table, or maybe they’re just real hungover and don’t feel like raining down fire at the moment.” He also holds up a big sign that says “EPIC SACRIFICE FAIL.”
The other prophets are tired and irritable after their morning of flailing so they don’t take too kindly to E-Jay’s lip. “Screw you Elijah,” they say. “Let’s see you do better, you flip-phone-loving geezer.”
So Elijah goes over to his homemade Weber and says a quiet prayer to his God who happens to also be the Sovereign Lord of the whole entire universe. Before he can even finish his prayer, fire falls from the sky and consumes the steaks, the wood, the grill, and a bottle of A1 next to the grill. (This probably looked alot like that part in Independence Day when the laser blasts destroyed New York, Los Angeles, and Washington DC.)
Everyone is stunned and afraid and can do nothing but sit and watch as E-Jay dances around the mountaintop flexing his muscles and shouting “One shot!” like he’s freaking Ronnie from Jersey Shore. When he finishes rubbing it in everyone’s face, he rounds up all the prophets of Baal and Asherah, takes them down near the brook Kishon, and slaughters them. Hahaha. Classic E-Jay.
Sadly, murdering the losing team has since been made illegal – or is at least frowned upon.
(Photo courtesy of mocpages.com.)