Never Void, Nor Prohibited

So I’m at a ATM withdrawing enough money to last me through my five day “vacation.” I’m a victim of frequent impulse buying; i.e. I’ll buy any used CD that seems even vaguely interesting. I did well this weekend, but that’s besides the point…

I look up at the security mirror above the machine and spy a tiny, sixty year-old woman, in her Sunday best, trying to either: glimpse my password, chew through my neck, or sniff my hat. Whatever the reason, this lady was literally three inches from my shoulder! (What we call “personal space” in this here state.) Whirling around, snatching my headphones off my ears, I ask, “Can I help you with something?” (Damn my job and its training.)

In a voice as tiny, and meek as the rest of her, she answers, “Jesus loves you.”

As noted above, I’m technically on “vacation.” I don’t have the desire to point out the numerous flaws in her belief system right now. All I had the desire to do was hope that someday soon an equally brutal god will come down, same as hers once did, claiming to be a god of love, yet raging war against all other religions. ‘Cuz let’s face it, when it comes down to it, they’re going to lose. When the Rapture comes, God’s army is going to consist of elderly women with pedophiles shouting out the orders!

Is that the company you want to keep? If your buddy Jesus loves the same people that love on little children, shouldn’t you have an intervention? Just sayin’.

“Uh, thanks,” I reply, hoping to to stem this conversation early.

I look over once more to find she’s still there. Hasn’t moved an inch! Turning around again, “Anything else?,” I ask.

“Do you have fourteen dollars?”

What, your master of time and space is broke? Excuse me, the literal creator of time and space!?! Why don’t you ask Jesus, I hear he loves you!

Is Jesus not able to pony up any cash for his followers? No wonder he feeds his disciples on transmogrified flesh and blood!

Let this be known, I do not profess to be divine. If I was, I’d use my power to erase myself from existence; to save all of you from being forced to live with a primitive, threadbare theology. Even so, if any of my friends, or hell, anyone reading this, needs fourteen bucks to buy a bus ticket to Tucson, all they have to do is call.

Call. Not pray to me, murder for me, rape little kids for me, none of that is necessary for me, unlike some other “deities.” A phone call is all that’s required. I’ll overnight the money, plus an extra twenty so you can eat at a Waffle House along the way.

Let’s see your God match that offer!


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