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We all know the story by now. Ten years ago, a jewelry designer named Diana Duyser made a grilled cheese sandwich while working on some drawings. She took a bite, marvelled at its cheesy goodness, then had an epiphany: Her sandwich looked like the Virgin Mary!

Duyser, presumably no longer hungry after her brush with the Virgin Mother, hid the sandwich in a box for a decade, where it miraculously grew zero mold. Eventually, for reasons only known to Duyser, she unveiled it to the world, which went crazy for her little Grilled Cheese effagy. So crazy, in fact, that the Antigua-based casino, best known for drawing its name on the backs of sweaty men who pummel the shit out of each other, bought it for $28,000 on eBay.

That's a lot of money for a grilled cheese sandwich. To level the playing field, an enterprising man named Christopher Curry is selling his Blessed Grilled Cheese Virgin Mary Creation Kit on eBay ... with a bid of $3,500.

Since we here at The Black Table know that you lack $28,000 for a randomly occurring piece of religious sandwich, or even $3,500 to recreate the miracle in the privacy of your own home, we conducted a test to make our own. Here's how we did it.

Step One: Get Bread, Get Butter, Get Crazy.

For those of you who are new to Earth, this is a picture of bread and butter. You probably have this stuff in your fridge. It's all you need to make millions and millions of dollars making fake Jesuses.


Step Two: What Up Jesus? You My Home Slice.

This is a slice of bread, which, at some point must have been some kind of modern marvel, hence the phrase "greatest thing since sliced bread." This, clearly, makes absolutely no sense today and leaves you with a suspicious feeling about a society that placed such a high cultural premium on properly sliced bread.


Step Three: The Face of God, In Butter.

Carefully cut little slices of butter and arrange them to make the face of The Messiah, making sure to focus on the crucial beard/mullet areas. Inadvertenty note that "Jesus has a butterface" and immediately feel such tremendous guilt that you break down and pray. Very good, my son.


Step Four: Put Jesus in the Toaster Oven.

To go from "breakfast" to "breakfast miracle," slide Jesus into the toaster oven and flip the switch. This doesn't work as well in one of those old-timey, top-loadey toasters because Jesus catches on fire and burns down your apartment, which isn't the kind of "closeness to God" you had in mind.


Step Five: Jeeee-licious!

It's Jesus on your toast! Sure, this could also be Johnny Damon or Rupert from Survivor, but that doesn't matter -- your toast has a Shroud of Turin mysterious iconic look about it that will get those eBay bidders freaking out.