The dusty streets of Jerusalem are crowded with people. The sun beats down. Roman soldiers stand at attention. At the center of it all is GEORGE COSTANZA, arms bound, wearing a crown of thorns that clearly doesn't fit. He looks around, utterly confused and enraged.
GEORGE
(looking around)
What’s going on here?! I don’t belong here! This is a mistake! A big mistake!
A ROMAN SOLDIER checks a scroll with a confused expression.
ROMAN SOLDIER
(consulting the scroll)
Costanza... Jesus... same difference, I suppose.
GEORGE
(angrily)
No, no! That’s not the same! I’m not Jesus! I’m... George! I’ve got no divine powers! I can’t even handle a hot dog without it getting all over me!
GEORGE
(looking at the crown of thorns)
What’s this? What is this, some sort of punishment for not returning my Blockbuster tapes on time?! I don’t deserve this! This isn’t even my cross!
He tries to untangle his arms from the ropes, awkwardly flailing. The crowd murmurs and points, clearly confused by the spectacle.
CROWD MEMBER
(whispering)
I thought Jesus was supposed to have powers. What’s this guy doing? He’s... uh... not exactly what I pictured.
GEORGE
(pleading with the crowd)
You think I want this?! Do you think I asked for this? I’m just a guy trying to live my life and now I’m supposed to be sacrificed? I just wanted a sandwich! Is that too much to ask for?
ROMAN SOLDIER
(apathetic)
The scroll says it’s you, so...
GEORGE
(interrupting, panicking)
What scroll?! What is this, some sort of clerical error? You’re telling me there’s a paperwork mix-up and now I’m being crucified?! I was supposed to be getting a managerial position at the Yankees, not... this!
ROMAN SOLDIER
(sternly)
Silence, criminal. The will of the Empire is clear. You will be crucified.
GEORGE
(desperate, frantically pacing)
Wait, wait! I can’t go through with this! I don’t even know what this whole “salvation” thing is! What’s the plan here? What exactly am I supposed to be doing? I don’t even know how to help people!
George stops in his tracks, looking around for an escape. But there is none. Only the grim faces of the crowd and the towering cross in the distance.
GEORGE
(grabbing a nearby soldier)
You know what? Forget it! I’m not doing this. I’m not going on that cross. I’m too important. I’ve got meetings. I’ve got lunch. Do you know how hard it is to get a reservation at Joe’s Pizza? You want to talk about miracles? I need a table!
ROMAN SOLDIER
(eyes narrowing)
You will be quiet. Prepare for your fate.
GEORGE
(eyes wide, near tears)
This isn’t even my fault! I don’t even believe in this stuff! I believe in... you know, the essence of good pizza and maybe, just maybe, finding a parking spot! That’s my belief system!
The soldiers continue to bind George, indifferent to his protests.
GEORGE
(pulling at his ropes, panicking)
I just wanted a sandwich! Is that too much to ask?!
