“Definitely not asps. I’d know an asp if I saw one. Probably not a cockatrice either. I’d say a cobra.” (Actually, I didn’t know an asp from a hole in the ground.)

“Shush, Biff,” Mary said. My heart broke with the harshness in my love’s voice.

Just then Joseph rounded the corner and went through the door before I could catch him. No worry, he was back outside in an instant. “Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!”

I checked to see if Joseph’s heart had failed, having quickly decided that once Mary and I were married the snake would have to go, or at least sleep outside, but the burly carpenter seemed only shaken, and a little dusty from his backward dive through the door.

“Not an asp, right?” I asked. “Asps are made small to fit the breasts of Egyptian queens, right?”

Joseph ignored me. “Back away slowly, son. I’ll get a knife from my workshop.”

“She won’t hurt us,” Joshua said. “Her name is Sarah. She’s from Isaiah.”

“It is in the prophecy, Joseph,” Mary said.

I could see Joseph searching his memory for the passage. Although only a layman, he knew his scripture as well as anyone. “I don’t remember the part about Sarah.”

“I don’t think it’s prophecy,” I offered. “It says asps, and that is definitely not an asp. I’d say she’s going to bite Joshua’s ass off if you don’t grab her, Joseph.” (A guy has to try.)

“Can I keep her?” Joshua asked.

Joseph had regained his composure by now. Evidently, once you accept that your wife slept with God, extraordinary events seem sort of commonplace.

“Take her back where you found her, Joshua, the prophecy has been fulfilled now.”

“But I want to keep her.”

“No, Joshua.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

I suspected that Joseph had heard that before. “Just so,” he said, “please take Sarah back where you found her.”