The Naked Mole Rat New Testament

St Peter was pretty sure he’d never seen an arrival quite like it. As he peered over his desk, he could swear he was looking at what appeared to be a penis with teeth. Not only that, but it was accompanied by a tiny book. Eventually it spoke – the penis that is, not the book.

‘Is this Heaven?’

St Peter looked around at the pearly gates, the angels beyond them, and the clouds under their feet, and decided not to dignify this with a response. The talking phallus, met with this frosty silence, tried again.

‘Am I dead?’

Now, this was a query to which the answer wasn’t always apparent, so Peter nodded.

‘Excellent!’ The little pink thing started to do a celebratory dance. St Peter stopped it.

‘Sorry, why is your demise something worth celebrating?’

‘Because it means I can bring you our book, of course.’

‘“Our”? “Book”? What are you talking about?’

‘I’m here to bring you a new version of the Bible. A new New Testament if you will.’

‘I see. And you bring this on behalf of who?’

‘The naked mole rats.’

‘What’s that – some sort of punk band?’

‘Nope. We’re burrowing creatures from Africa.’

‘Right. God must have created you on one of his off-days. Come on then, let’s see this Bible of yours.’

St Peter picked up the creature’s book.

‘So what exactly have you put in this new New Testament? You haven’t changed much, I hope.’

‘Uh, well, we’ve, er, altered the odd commandment.’

‘You changed some of the instructions laid down directly from God?'

‘Yeah.’

‘Which ones?’

‘Well, er, adultery. That’s gone. We reason we’re so ugly that it’s a miracle anyone will shag us, so why keep that to the confines of marriage?’

‘Right. What did you replace that with – “thou shall shag around”?’

‘No, of course not – that’s what we put in place of ‘thou shall not kill’. No, instead of adultery, we wrote ‘thou shall not wear clothes or grow fur.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, we’re naked mole rats, aren’t we? We’re meant to stay nude.’

‘You can’t grow fur.’

‘Exactly. That’s why it’s in the rules.’

‘No, I mean it’s impossible for you to do it, so there’s no need to ban it. It’s never going to happen.’

‘Oh… still, better safe than sorry.’

‘Better safe than – forget it. Is that all you guys have changed?’

‘Yeah. Ah, no, actually we might have changed Jesus to a mole rat.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, how else are we going to get the kids to read it?’

St Peter glares at the creature, who, despite this, continues talking nonetheless.

‘So, when can we get this published?’

‘When Hell freezes over.’

‘Great! And when will that be exactly?’

St Peter kicks the mole rat off the cloud.

‘You’ll have to go find out for yourself.’