It was one of those days that hurtle from one Oh-my-God-disaster to the next and makes you want to crawl back into bed and sit out the sunset. On my 287th oh-my-God, a voice boomed: "Yes? You called?"
I spun around. "I'm God. What's your problem?" the voice asked.
"You," I said unhesitatingly as I crouched and looked under my cot, "you're the problem."
"Get up...what did I do?" the voice asked.
"What did You do!?! The world is upside down in case You haven't noticed. Don't You see the mess? What DIDN'T You do!" I checked under the chair, behind the doors, under the bed cover...
"That's MY problem. What's YOUR problem?"
"Everything. I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I don't know what I want but it's definitely not this. I don't like this day. Nothing ever seems to go right. I feel homicidal."
"Okay. If I let you kill one person and get away with it, who would you want to kill that will help your days get better?"
I was shocked! "Only one!?!?" I said disbelieving.
"You're quite ambitious aren't you for someone who doesn't know what's going on?"
"If you're really God, I have some questions for you."
"Shoot."
"Do You answer everyone who says "Oh God!"? Why didn't You show up all these days? Did You really create George Bush? Why don't You stop people killing each other in Your name? Why do floods happen? And earthquakes, and tornadoes, and epidemics? Why do children die? Why was I born? What is the...."
"Whoa..whoa...will you stop already!" the voice boomed, "so this is all MY fault now?"
"Well, You should at least own moral responsibility and resign!"
"And then what? You'll take my place?"
"Hmmm...now, there's an original thought! I'm sure I'll do much better than Your current rep on earth, George Bush."
"Just for the record...someone--I don't know who--created George Bush when I logged out for a bathroom break."
"Just what I needed--a God who's a joker."
"What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing really, but I hope you don't think this is funny?"
"Well, isn't it? By "this," I'm assuming you either mean the state of the world or George Bush...both are living proof that I have a sense of humour."
"We don't like your jokes, and by "we" I mean the rest of the world."
"Go to hell."
"My God! You're GOD!! How can You talk like that? Besides, I'm already there."
"You're very ungrateful..."
"Oh, c'mon," I waved my hand dimissively, "don't tell me you're going to lecture me about all the beauty you've created that we're destroying...about your rainbows, your forests, the Artic, and the butterfly...it's hard enough to read it in my mailbox every day...there's even a mail where you talk to your "son" (like you're talking to me now)," I giggled, "you tell your son 'always remember I love you, and I'm always there for you,' or words to that effect." I giggled some more.
"And you find THAT funny?"
"Who's that guy who said 'If you talk to God, you're praying. If God talks to you, you're schizophrenic'?"
"A schizophrenic."
"I can't believe I'm having this conversation! How do I know You're God at all? You're probably some nutcase who's hiding very well somewhere and being a smart ass."
"Same thing."
"Ok, I'm not going to engage in this witless banter with a voice. Just give me a readymade solution that I can implement right here, right now."
"Chuck your job and get a life. Travel, meet people, write poetry, learn to sing, play the piano, paint...in short, take that mail seriously."
"Somebody, help!" I screamed, "Dunk me in cold water! This can't be real!"
Immediately, an avalanche of ice cold water hit me and knocked the wind out of me. I shot up in bed, drenched and speechless.
My 5- and 3-year-old nephews stood there holding an empty dipper and their sides, laughing like only kids can.
