I know common courtesy dictates that when writing about a film or novel one must daren't divulge the surprises -- like the fact that the chick in 'The Crying Game' had a schlong bigger than yours, that Bruce Willis didn't know he was 'Patrick Swayze'd' in The Sixth Sense or that Jesus dies at the end of the story.
Then again, I never had much common courtesy. If you hate 'spoilers,' then, bail now.
After watching The DaVinci Code:
Mrs. Prego "What did you think?"
Me "If that was me instead of Tom Hanks, I'd have been making a few baby Jesuses at the end of the movie."
Mrs. Prego "What? What does that mean?"
Me "Come on. How hot would it be to get it on with a descendent of Jesus? Especially if she looks like Audrey Tautou."
Mrs. Prego (rolls her eyes) "Groan."
Yeah. I'm not as big a man as Robert Langdon. As soon as I figured out the fille was the great (x 900) grand-daughter of 'Jesu', the blood would surely have started rushing towards the pocket rocket.
Penis "She's what? That is so f*cking hot!"
Brain "Shut up, dude. You're gonna get us zapped by lightning!"
Shit. She's the hottest piece of ass in French Christianity since Sainte Jeanne D'Arc. Hell, even if she looked like Rosie O'Donnell, getting it on with the off-spring of a deity has got to be outstanding. I thought of all the possiblilities and dirty-talk that would accompany the throes of passion. They're endless.
Of course there's the "Oh, God," and the "Sweet Jesus," which take on whole new connotations. You can, however, put a new spin on an old classic:
"Who's your saviour? Who's your saviour?"
(You could substitute "messiah," too.)
How about something a little more abstract...
"Render onto Caesar!"
"AAaaaahhh. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the lord"
"No. No. No. Don't take off the crucifix."
"In the name of the father (thrust) and of the son (thrust)..."
"Oh. I'm about to go Pontious Pilate on your shit."
"Daaaaaaah... Into your hands I commend my spirit!"
Then, there are the 'technical difficulties.
Is she being a little shy?
"Come on, baby Your great-(x900) grandmother used to do this to the Roman Soldiers for a couple denarii. It's in the Bible."
"Baby, you need to make with the razor. It feels like a crown of thorns down there."
"Why don't you go anoint with some Massengill?"
Of course, it'll make pillow talk interesting.
(Fweeeep.... puff) "Say, you think you could put in a word for me to the almighty to let me in for free?"
"Wouldn't it be cool to have a menáge á trois with, like Satan's grand-daughter?"
"Oh, is it 11.30 already? I've got to go. Got to get to church in the morning."
And of course, there's, "Zzzzzzzz. Zzzzzzzzzz."
Uh huh. I'd definitely have to hit that holy ass. I would name all the kids Jesus, too. That's "Hey-ZOOS", not "GEE-ZUS". I am Hispanic, you know. It be cool to see a bunch of kids running around my yard with halos on their heads.
Jesus #3 "Waaaaah. Dad. Jesus called me a blasphemer."
Me "JeSUS! Come over here. What did you call your brother?"
Jesus # 4 "He started it. He said I was a wannabe Zionist."
Jesus #3 "I'm going to tell great (x 901) grandpa."
On second thought... I don't know if I can handle those kinds of in-laws. Maybe it'd be preferable to find a Confucian descendent ("Confucius say, 'Me so horny') or Buddha's...("Nir (thrust) va (thrust) na (thrust)") or Vishnu's niece ("Take those extra arms and play with them titties... Yeah... That's what I'm talkin' about.... Now take that other hand and... ooooh.")