Every few years

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?”
God nodded.
“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.

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