The fist of an angry God

Posted by Jesus on May 16, 2008

Have you been watching the news lately? A hundred thousand or more dead in Burma. Tens of thousands in China. God is obviously at work in Asia. Of course He works in very mysterious ways, so you probably don’t yet understand why He feels the need to extinguish so many lives in so short a time. You probably won’t understand, but today I’m going to try to explain this to you. Dad killed all of those people for good reason, and no one up here in Heaven is really sure He’s done yet.

You see, about ten weeks ago Dad and The Holy Spirit went to Texas to campaign for John McCain in a big church. It was one of several trips they’ve taken together lately, and it’s been good to see Him out working again. As usual, He left me in charge while He was out. I already had plans with Ken Lay and the guys though, so I put Mary Mags in charge while we shot our weekly skins. To be fair, I checked in before we started the back nine to make sure Earth was still in existence. Everything was fine, of course. I was up a couple of bucks too, so I stocked the cooler with a few extra Bitburgers to carry us through the afternoon.

So there we were, buzzed on the 15th tee, when Paul comes screaming up the fairway. “Jesus!” he’s yelling, waving his arms around. “Jesus, Earth is doomed! Mary Magdalene fucked it all up!” It was a complete bummer. My short game was on fire.

Long story short, Mary got in a fight with George over Iraq, so W stormed off and used his red phone to God. The Almighty had to actually get up and leave in the middle of the McCain rally, where He and The Holy Spirit had both been really moving. The people at the church felt Him depart, which is an incredibly draining experience, and became confused. They stood about and mumbled for a few moments, but humanity broke down fast in the wake of the sudden absence of God. Fear spread through the crowd fast. It started with the sobs of a young girl on the front row. She was drowned out immediately by the wail of a man plunging himself to his death from the balcony. Everyone screamed as shots rang out from the front of the congregation. The preacher, Rick Timmons, had produced a revolver and shot his pianist, a family of three in the front row, the annoying lady who always spoke in tongues, and then himself.

The insanity spread to the streets, hundreds of wailing McCain supporters committing the most atrocious acts of debauchery imaginable outside of God’s ever-watchful eye. Their disease went pandemic as passers-by became aware of God’s averted attention. Those who predicated their morality on the presence of God were struck dumb with aggression with Him gone. They raped light poles and set fire to their children. They raged against all that was good in their lives, and all who witnessed them became as them. Mary had begun the apocalypse.

I got back to the office in six hundred trillion billionths of a tenth of a second, which wasn’t nearly quick enough for God. He’d been taking the piss out of Mary for at least nine trillion billionths of that, and had apparently dispatched several separate search parties to track down me, Moses, Kenneth, and Pope Pious VII. God knew that we were at the club, too. We were in super deep crap.

Ken, Moses, and I all stood before the Almighty and accepted our punishment. Pious ran. He’s still running today, and God is pissed. There is apparently a small group of vigilante papal abolitionists spread cleverly throughout the world, you see, and they are doing a good job of keeping Pious underground and hidden from Dad. We got good intelligence suggesting that he was in Burma, so God sent death to find him. He fled, and with the help of your fellow man, made passage to China, where once again God missed dealing the good Pope his end. We’re working around the clock right now to find the Pope, and God has promised to use every resource at His disposal to end this, and swears to cut down as many of you as are in His path. The town in Texas is under angelic quarantine, and your minds have been scrubbed of its existence. Perhaps after God finishes His business with Pious He’ll erase the tragedies in Burma and China too.

One thing is for sure; God is on a tear, and you all need to seek shelter. Stock up on water and bullets too, because Peter says he overheard The Almighty muttering something about a drought to rival the flood if Pious isn’t found soon. Those of you who are reading this who might have knowledge of his whereabouts, do yourself and your fellow man a big favor and turn him in. There’s a huge reward, too; Dad’s offering unconditional absolution to anyone who comes forward with information. Until he’s found, consider yourself all fair game.

Do you know what the worst part of this is though? I mean, besides putting a woman in charge of the world who within a half day almost wiped you all out. Could the worst part be the fact that I’m missing the Stanley Cup playoffs right now (which, by the way, is why the Stars are down 3-1 right now)? Could it be that Moses and I are in the doghouse with God? Could it be that Ken has since been sent back to Earth to live on an island? No, the worst part of this ordeal is more sordid than all of those put together. The worst part is that now I can’t golf again until the whole clusterfuck is sorted out!

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