Every few years, God finds some guy to buy him beer.
“No ID,” he says. “Can’t buy.”
You see, he doesn’t have a birth certificate.
Because he wasn’t born.
“Why don’t you make an ID?”
“It would be wrong,” he said. “Besides, I don’t have money.”
“Can’t you make that too?” I asked. “Or is that wrong, too?”
“How about making gold?” I asked. “Or diamonds? Or just make your own beer?”
“You people make it better,” he says.
So, I bought him a beer.
He gave me gold and diamonds.
And we drive from bar to bar.
Whenever someone throws the “Christ-Killer” insult at me, I snap their photograph and run their face through my databases.
Then, I go back in time and kill their mother before they are born.
When I return to the present time, the person is gone, because they never existed.
No, I didn’t kill Jesus this way. It would mess up too many things.
Nor did I shout with the rest of the crowd to call for Jesus’ death.
Instead, I waited for the guy after he “came back.”
Stuffed his body in the time machine engine.
The book says he’s “ascended.”
Young Mary had a dream. An angel told her that she was pregnant with God’s baby.
“But I’m a virgin,” she said.
The angel shrugged. “The Boss likes ’em young.”
Her family tried to get her to see a doctor, but she didn’t want them anywhere near her miracle baby.
“God will take care of His child,” she said.
As her belly grew larger, Mary grew weaker.
Until one day, she was dead.
The baby turned out to be a rapidly-growing tumor in her intestinal tract.
Nobody wanted to be the first to ask for their baby shower gift back.
The Bible says that Jesus ascended to Heaven, but the truth is that Jesus simply gave up his attraction to the earth.
He simply ignored gravity.
Since gravity keeps people on the ground, giving up on gravity causes you to rise rapidly from the earth, until you’re left out there in the void of space, floating around.
No, he doesn’t orbit the sun, because that takes gravity. He just floats around out there, watching the earth and moon pass buy once a year.
If you look closely at the sky around Easter, you might see him.
But I doubt it.
I knelt down by the bed and barely had said “Dear Lord” before I heard a loud booming voice shout:
WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT NOW?
“God?” I whispered.
I SAID WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT NOW?
“I just wanted to say thanks, and I look forward to tomorrow,” I said.
“Seriously, I’m cool,” I said.
WELL, HERE’S A FUCKIN BICYCLE SOME KID KEEPS ASKING FOR, BUT THE KID’S AN ASSHOLE, SO FUCK HIM.
And a bicycle appeared on my bed.
“Amen?” I said.
It was kid-sized. Useless to me.
I donated it to charity.
God watched as Eve handed the apple to Adam again.
STOP! He shouted.
God wiped His brow and growled.
“Why do they keep doing this?” He said, picking up the humans and tossing them into a universe. “No matter what I do, these idiots keep defying me.”
“Beats me,” said the llama. “If you’re finished, can you turn me back into a snake, please?”
God snapped His fingers, and the llama became a walrus.
“No,” said God. “We’re starting from Day Six.”
He reached into the mud, pulled out some clay, and shaped up another Adam to test.
The world is a mess. And Hell is filling up quickly.
So, The Devil is adding circles to it to handle new sins.
For instance, there will be a circle for Spammers. They’ll be force-fed herbal supplements and smeared with noxious creams, giving them painfully massive erections and swollen breasts.
The rest of the damned will need to be moved to make use of the new space.
Diverting the river of fire.
Replanting the suicide wood.
Changing harpy flight paths.
And that’ll be a nightmare in logistics.
But then, it’s Hell. That’ll be a punishment for condemned change management consultants.
For centuries, people have claimed to have seen the Virgin Mary in various caves and grottos, and pilgrims seek guidance and healing in those places.
To this day, you’ll hear about a cheese sandwich or a piece of driftwood. A water stain in the ceiling of some shithole apartment.
So, imagine my surprise that during my colonoscopy, I’m watching the monitor and the doctor goes “HOLY CRAP!” the same time I do.
Yep. The Virgin Mary. Up my ass.
“Oh that’s where that statue went,” I said.
I promise I’ll wash it before I put it back on the dashboard.
As I prepared my morning oatmeal, I slipped the surly bonds of earth and touched the face of God.
It was greasy and sticky.
“Don’t you ever wash your face?” I asked God.
“You shouldn’t be one to talk about hygiene,” said God. “Did you wash your hands before making that oatmeal? I see everything, you know.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
We floated in uncomfortable silence for a while.
“I’d best be getting back,” I said, and I reached for the surly bonds of earth, even surlier, having been slipped so easily.
I finished my oatmeal, and washed my hands.
Why did I do that?
Because The Devil made me do it.
The Devil doesn’t look like some horned monster with hoofs and a barbed tail.
He’s beautiful. Sounds beautiful.
Like an angel.
Because that’s what he is… was…
That’s why so many people fall for his tricks.
If an angel told you to do something, you wouldn’t ask for ID.
You’d do it.
Besides, even if you ask for his name, he’d just lie.
He’s Gabriel, just left his horn at home.
He’s Michael, didn’t bring his sword.
He smiles, tells you to shove someone into traffic.