Wrote this little oneshot after noticing some hilarious parallels between the infamous propaganda film "God's Not Dead" and Tommy Wiseau's "The Room." Enjoy.

Warning: this was written on a whim, and is probably best read while drunk.

I don't own "God's Not Dead" or "The Room."

Sad piano music played from nowhere as Amy walked timidly down the hall. Once a liberal blogger who'd preferred to spend her time criticizing "Duck Dynasty" on the Internet over having sex with her dickweed boyfriend, Amy was now filled with regret over all and who she hadn't done in her life. Sure, Mark had been an asshole; but she still could've enjoyed more of his asshole. But it was too late; she had terminal cancer, and no atheist caricature in a propaganda film had time for his girlfriend's cancer.

All hope had seemed lost, until that morning, when Amy's eyes, filled with artificial tears the director had resorted to ordering her actress to use, had espied a conveniently placed newspaper with an ad that read:SUPPORT GROUP FOR PEOPLE WHO DEFINITELY HAVE CANCER! MEETING AT JOHNNY'S APARTMENT.

Amy wasn't sure who Johnny was, or where his apartment was located, but she figured she could just wait for the scene to change and find herself there; the nitpickers in the audience could worry about the plothole.

And now here she was, about to open the door to Johnny's apartment. (The ad had specifically said that it was tradition not to knock or ring the doorbell when entering Johnny's apartment.) Slowly, Amy opened the door...

...and found herself staring and hundreds of thousands of spoons. Big serving spoons, delicate tea spoons, plastic spoons, golden spoons, spoons posing at all different angles, in all sizes of picture frames, decorating every inch of the apartment. The sight was so strange, Amy almost forgot for a moment that she definitely had cancer.

"Hello?" Amy voice wavered in her actress's most pathetic attempt at nervousness. "Is anyone home? I'm, I'm looking for the Definitely Have Cancer Support Group..." Maybe, she thought, if she said her lines like Belle from Disney, all the spoons would leap out of their frames and perform a musical number for her entertainment. That would certainly take her mind of cancer.

But the spoons did not reply. Instead, a man and a woman rose from the sofa, where they had apparently been making out. The woman was blonde, and wore a sultry red dress. The man was...

"Josh?" Amy exclaimed. "What are you doing in Johnny's apartment?"

"Saving more souls. I was just explaining God to Lisa here. She wants to repent for a lifetime of sluttiness."

"Sure I do, Lover Boy," Lisa said coyly.

"Is this Johnny's apartment though?" Amy asked.

"Sure is." Lisa said, pouring some sexy wine for herself and Josh.

"Well hello!" an older woman called from a spiral staircase that stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room. "You must be Amy! I'm Claudette, and I definitely have Cancer. We're holding the support group upstairs in Johnny's bedroom."

"Johnny doesn't mind, does he?" Amy asked.

"I don't think so, considering he's dead as a doornail," Claudette said offhandedly.

"Dead?" Josh gasped. "Was he...saved?"

"No one could save Johnny from that vamp," a voice said from the shadows.

"Reveal yourself stranger," Amy said, figuring that since she had no personality to speak of, it wasn't possible for her to say anything "out of character," and therefore whatever popped into her head was fair game.

Out of the shadows stepped a hella-ripped gangster, with a gun on his waist and a goatee on his chin, dressed in a tight black tanktop and matching winter hat (odd, for California).

"Holy underwear," Amy gasped, "No one told me the Hamburglar had a hot older brother!"

"Name's Chris R, baby. And I ain't no hamburgler, I'm a drug dealer."

"What's this character doing here?" Claudette exclaimed angrily. "That's a very dangerous man! He has a gun!"

"What kind of name's Chris R?" Amy asked.

"I am gangster," Chris R explained.

"My name's cooler," Josh said. "I'm Josh Wheaton! ...eh? Eh?"

After an awkward silence, Lisa said, "My full name is Lisa...Simpton."

Chris R shrugged. "I just figured hey, I'm the closest thing either of these movies has to an antihero, so maybe I could be the mysterious sketchy guy who explains the all-important plot-setup, like Peter Lorre in 'Casablanca' or Billy Bones in 'Treasure Island.'"

"Were either of those guys saved?" Josh asked. "Did they believe in God?"

"Sure," Amy said. "Peter Lorre was Jewish, and all the pirates in 'Treasure Island' mention, like, the Devil and stuff."

Josh shuttered slightly. "Well, at least the pirate was saved then."

He wished he could save the Jews on his campus; but oddly enough, it was considered just a step over the line in the United States to treat Jewish people the way Josh and his fellow Believers treated Muslims and Atheists. He knew he would have to stick to battling evil atheist and Muslim caricatures in "God's Not Dead 2," all the evil Jewish stereotypes left behind in Shakespeare and Charles Dickens. Oh, well.

"Tell me Mr. R," Amy said quietly. "How did Johnny die? Did he definitely have cancer too?"

"Ain't no cancer killed the John-man," Christ R said ruefully.

"Wait a damn minute," Lisa lit herself a cigarette. "I was the one closest to Johnny. I was his future-wife! I say we go the 'smoking femme fatale narrator' direction and let me tell the story!"

"Or you can all leave your stupid comments in your pockets and just show them the fucking movie," sighed a new man, stepping into the house with a laptop computer.

"Who's this character?" Claudette exclaimed.

"Mark," Lisa said with narrowed eyes.

"Lisa," Mark said, matching her malice, as he opened up his laptop on the coffee table. "I downloaded the whole movie. Here it is, 'The Room,' 2003. This will explain all you need to know about Johnny."

"Hey Mark," Josh asked, "Is your last name by any chance 'Hamilton?'"

"T'is!" Mark exclaimed. "How'd you guess?"

Amy and Claudette lost interest in "The Room" a few minutes into the opening credits, and went up the spiral staircase to the Cancer Support Group. It was a bit odd, discussing cancer in what looked like a set for a cheap porno. But it certainly took Amy's mind off things.

Ayisha clapped with joy along with the rest of the crowd at the News Boys concert. Ever since her Muslim parents had caught her listening to Christian gospel on her ipod, beaten her and thrown her out, she'd found solace in the Christian boy band.

"You're beautiful!"

Ayisha turned to see the same random girl who'd said the same random thing to her a few days ago, when she'd taken off her niqab.

"Who the hell are you?" Ayisha asked curiously.

The girl shrugged. "Some random lesboy who thinks you're hot."

"No one's ever called me 'hot' before," Ayisha said. "Well, not counting the endless number of guys who'd say 'damn that's one hot Muslim chick!' every time I walked around campus in my figure-flattering clothing, bare arms and low top that clashed oddly with my strict Muslim headdress; but for some reason, I just don't count it when a male says it. I'm not sure why."

The random lesboy smiled coyly. "Well I'm sure the answer will uh, come to you eventually."

Josh stared in awe at the laptop as the credits of "The Room" rolled.

"My God," he whispered to himself, gently turning his football in his hands.

"What's wrong, baby?" Lisa asked, stroking the football seductively.

"It's...it's nothing," Josh shook his head, and flashed his favorite shit-eating smile. "It's just...It can't be a coincidence. It can't be. The pure, humble, innocent personality...the betrayal," he glanced at Mark and Lisa. "The courage, the way he never fit in, and his sacrifice...Guys, we've waited 2,000 years for the Second Coming...and all this time it was coming right here in California!"

Josh tossed the football to Mark Hamilton, who caught it and replied, "Leave your stupid superstition in your pocket!"

"You're not our fucking pastor!" added Denny, who munched an apple symbolically from behind the couch.

"Josh," Lisa sighed, catching the football, "You're getting carried away with this Jesus shit."

"Leave your stupid atheism in your pocket!" Josh cried, finally catching the football again and chucking it at Lisa, missing by seven feet, and knocking a framed spoon off the wall. "It's not enough that you cheated on Johnny!" Josh exclaimed. "You had to get everyone else to cheat on him with you!" He stood up courageously. "Well I'm gonna do what's right. I'm gonna text everyone I know, and tell them, tell them Johnny's Not Dead!"

Ayisha had made peace with her parents. After much debate, her father and mother had accepted her decision to become a Christian, and let her back into their house. She was even allowed to have friends over. Now she was in her bedroom with Leslie, the girl from the News Boys concert. They'd started the evening talking about Jesus, and were now "speaking in tongues." Ayisha leaned back on the bed in pleasure, naked as Eve on Creation, as her new lover spoke tongues into her Garden of Eden.

"You just keep that up bab-" Ayisha's eyes bulged, at the sight of her little brother standing in the doorway, staring at her like a deer in the headlights. "Brother!" Ayisha bolted up and screamed, while Leslie still went at her crotch. "You must swear not to tell Mama or Papa! Swear it! Swear!"

"...So you see," Amy said to the cancer group, "Without God there is no morality. You cannot be a good person without God. And you cannot have God unless it's the Christian God."

"Amy dear," Claudette sighed. "Those are Josh's lines."

Amy glanced at her script. "Oh fuck it. I'm done playing this caricature. Can we just have an orgy?"

"YES!" a voice cried.

All heads turned to see Josh standing at the top of the spiral staircase, framed by the room's draping red curtains and elegant candles. And yet it was not Josh, at least not any Josh Amy had ever known. Tinted red by the candlelight and the endless sea of crimson curtains, the young man before them wore an ill-fitting tuxedo, carried a football, and had grown his hair out past his shoulders, dyed it with several bottles of black shoe polish, and seemingly walked through a hurricane in it.

"Josh?" Amy whispered. "You look different."

"I feel different," Josh explained. "I've seen a prophet. A true selfless man, one who reminded me both of myself and of Jesus. Or at least the Jesus that Reverent Phelps taught me about. Johnny was a flawless man. He was sent to this planet for a reason. Jesus returned my friends, and his name was Johnny. I'm here to spread his message."

With that, Josh handed each member of the cancer group a pamphlet, each sporting a crude drawing of a cross made from spoons, depicting Josh's new religion's Trinity: a bulldog, Jesus, and Tommy Wiseau.

"God the Father created this world," Josh said. "Jesus was God the Son. And now, finally we have found God the Holy Spirit; Johnny. "Don't be a chicken-cheep, cheep, cheep!-spread the word! Don't leave your stupid comments in your pocket. Show love to your fellow man, as Johnny did Lisa's red dress..."

"Wait, what?" Lisa called from downstairs?

"Johnny's not dead!" Josh screamed. "Not if we refused to let him die. Not if we keep his love and passion alive!" Tearing off his tuxedo to reveal oiled Christian abs, Josh bellowed, "Spread the love, mah peeps!"

"I may be dying of cancer," Amy said gleefully, "But I'll go out with a bang!"

"Hey Chris R," Claudette asked the drug dealer, who now lay across Johnny's bed wearing his burglar hat and and black thong, "You packing anything else besides that gun?"

"What happened here today is a cause for celebration," a token black guy said with a smile. "Pain, yes," he added in a strained voice, as a fellow cancer-patient shoved a cucumber up his ass, "yet pleasure too."

"Praised be Johnny, Hallelujah!" Mark exclaimed to the sky, as Denny treated Marks' manhood like a symbolic apple of Eden.

Two-hundred miles away, a once-Muslim girl named Ayisha listened to Josh's live speech about Johnny on her iphone, while bobbing to the music of the t.a.T.u. concert, along with her new girlfriend Leslie, and her new lesbian kin.

"For Johnny!" Ayisha shot a fist into the air, as her girlfriend plunged a hand down her low fishnet top.

It was a good day to be a believer.