The fires burned, and Jesus wept. Whenever he finished a creation, he always wept - that was his way. He pitied them, the poor things: they go into a world of fire. A long time past, he wept for man. Now, he wept for the UFOs.

The fires burned, and Jesus wept. The flames of the forge caused shadows to dance and dance upon the walls. The hammer was heavy in his hand, and he made the last delicate tap. The creation was complete.

"My child, my love," Jesus whispered. "Blood of my blood and flesh of my flesh. . .you are begat of my sweat and toil." Tenderly, he stroked their hard but smooth exterior. "I love you well, and you shall pave the way for my return."

The fires burned, Jesus sweat, and the UFOs purred. Beneath their hard skin, the soft stuff in the UFOs quivered in anticipation. "Though you pave the way for God, you are not invulnerable," Jesus warned. "Your shells are hard, but you may die. The stuff betwixt the metals is as soft as twice baked potatoes. Be wary, my loves, for some of your number will bleed; and so some of your number will not return to me alive. But do not be miserly with your blood: if the time comes, as it does for all things, to spill it, do not be afraid. The bosom of Abraham will welcome even you should you die."

The UFOs danced and jumped. They were eager to be on their way.

Finally, with a tear in his eye, Jesus whispered, "Go, my pretties, go. Pave the way and spread the good news! I shall come again!"

As one, the UFOs cried, "AMEN!"

And they were off.

And they paved the way.

And the rest is history.

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