Conversations With God

Before I begin, I must say that I usually have these conversations with an entity I cannot see. I do see Him, but it's a view of a man who sometimes walks around, sometimes sitting, and sometimes He is fixing something that looks like some sort of catapult blender. This is how I usually encounter God. Some people have written about their personal encounters with God, like the guy who describes two sets of footprints along a beach. That while it's a lovely walk along the beach, there seems to be some traumatic thing that happened causing God's son Jesus to carry this person for a while. I don't know how it would have come to be, but the story is somewhat similar to mine. Except that my set of footprints were running, tripping, rolling, and at one point trying to dig into the sand to hide.

I remember telling the man who was relating his story that he was lucky that he and Jesus didn't end up being attacked by killer land sharks. But in my case, where there were two sets of footprints in the sand, they veered off into some patch of sea oats and driftwood and one set of footprints continued while there was this trail behind it to show where the body was being dragged. Kicking and screaming from the looks of it.

Yep. That would have been me.

 

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Conversation Regarding Being Trapped

Me: I'm still trapped here.
God: What?
Me: I have a list of complaints.
God: Spill it!
Me: I don't appreciate being a blob of Jello, poured into a burlap sack like quick drying cement and forced to ride around in a tin can that has injured me to no end and comes with a cranky driver who yells at me all the time. And this FBI goon is still trying to kill me! My skull is broken. Pretty sure I only have so long to live.

God: How is Kribs?
Me: What?
God: How is his hair?
Me: It's fine. Don't know about the rest of him. Why are there Gothic statues still in Hades? Why are they breathing?

God: What?

Me: Add that as another complaint!

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Conversation Regarding HAARP

God: I have clouds and cooler breezes going on today.
Me: Could you do this, like, more often while we slow bake to death?
God: That's HAARP. As in Harpies. Vicious little monsters.

Me: Your clouds and cool breezes need a little more punch to them, then. I mean, the Georgia guide stones was hilarious and all, and that fire at the Hoover Dam was something. I guess. But honestly, you took out what, 4 or 5 slabs of concrete. And that fire . . . it was really small.

God: . . .

Me: I mean, it wasn't even really a fire, more like a puff of smoke.

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Regarding Snakes

When the Lord came to me, I was out shopping and he said 'What hast thou done with that snake?' I immediately remembered that I was wearing some items and carrying a handbag that may or may not have been made from it. I dunno.

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Conversation Regarding Superstitions

Me: That's pretty dark over there.
God: Are you superstitious?
Me: No. Maybe. Yes.
God: There are vines growing all over that abandoned old dwelling, it looks natural enough.
Me: Naturally haunted by ghosts!
God: Are you afraid of ghosts?
Me. No. Maybe. And sometime yes.
God: There could be buried treasure in there.
Me: If it's treasure made out of gold then setting it on fire shouldn't hurt it and I can come back and sort through the ashes and debris later.

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Conversation Regarding Churches

Me: That place called the Church of God, that's not where you live.
God: Right. I don't live there. Why?
Me: Well I was hearing something about how I could lay all of my burdens on you and feel better.
God: Do you feel better?
Me: I don't know.
God: What does that Church have to do with anything then?
Me: Well, I was trying to make you take my burdens away and I thought it would really send a message about how burdened I am, so . . . I filled up a bag of hair I combed off all the cats, their puke I had to clean up, the litterbox, the destroyed items they ruined and I put all of that together in a bag and left it on the doorstep of the Church of God. I was hoping you could take care of it all.

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Conversation Regarding My Horrible Life

 

Summary: I try to keep my conversations with God short and to the point. The problem is, it's God I'm dealing with. So here's a transcript of the recent dialogue between God and me so that the intelligence guy, what's his name, is all up to date.

God: What are you doing?
Me: I was thinking about stealing a van.
God: What would you do with it?
Me: (shrugging) I dunno. Drive it around, I guess.
God: What's the deal with the the voodoo curses?
Me: They had it coming. Besides I can't be expected to ship out an actual can of whup ass. I have a headache. And what the hell are you doing here?
God: I come and go as I please.
Me: Aren't you supposed to be an imaginary friend for grown-ups?
God: (looking at me as if to say 'seriously?')
Me: I don't see any healing or any money rv'ing so I think stealing a van would help me be less stressed out.
God: That's a good way to un-stress but how are you going to do that?
Me: Fine, I'll just steal more lobster from Walmart.

 

Me: What exactly did I do to get put in this place? This prison planet? Run by evil guards who took over Hell and have basically already killed me in a slow tormenting way?
God: Did?
Me: Why exactly do you hate me?
God: . . .
Me: Why are the angels who protect some people, now why are they trying to kill me?
God: If they wanted you killed, don't you think they would have it done?
Me: No.
God: Why not?
Me: Because they're retarded?