Story Time...

[Themaninblack]

This is from me on another website Storiesmaina under the name Maud from a while back, here you go. Though I do warn you due to its age, there is a Chuck Norris joke on here.


Chatting With The Almighty



Ring. Ring. Tom got up and headed for the ringing. He slid past the mountain of paper work, and picked up the cordless phone.

"Mr. Daniels?" A calm woman's voice came over the phone. Tom paused a second and then answered.

"Yes," Tom felt the voice seemed vaguely familiar, "To whom am I talking?"

"Hello Mr. Daniels. This is Shirley, from 'you-know-who's' office. He said he would take youthis afternoon."

"Oh really?" Said Tom taking a deep breath. "Hmm. Let me check my schedule." Tom put the phone to his shoulder and did a silent dance. Then in a minute he rustled the papers next to the voice piece and held the receiver to his ear.

"All seems good." Exclaimed Tom with a smile from ear to ear on his face. "What time can I come."

The calm woman's voice came back on, "Three will be good. Oh and Mr. Daniels I would suggest you wear a suit, that tie and shirt won't do."

Tom hung up the phone after saying the good bye. And then sat down in one big heap. He didn't think twice about how she knew what he was wearing and headed over to his boss's office to tell him of the appointment. With a big grin from the boss he was then excused to prepare the interview. He made sure to put on a freshly ironed suit and begin preparing the questions.

Tom had always wanted to be a reporter for one of the big newspaper's and he had finally done it. He just wanted to become an editor so he could force his opinion down thousands of people throats. This was the interview he needed. The digital watch began beeping and he ran to his car.

The sky scraper ascended into a foggy invisibility. A set of pure gold revolving doors lay before him waiting for his passage. He moved through the gates and into the main lobby. At the end of the gigantic room sat a semi-circle desk with a team of young female secretaries. He rushed over to him and gave his name and appointment. He was directed to a single elevator away from the others.

"This Mr. Daniel's will take you right up to the 14,264th floor, express. Make sure to take deep breaths, chew this special gum, and relax, or your ears will depressurize so fast they'll pop, literally." The woman said this casually as if this death threat was spontaneous. Then she continued, "Oh and straighten your tie and hair. You-know-who is very...particular about appearances. You are made in his own image after all."

Tom shook his head in appreciation, took the packet of Big Red and took a stick in his mouth. He moved into the box and it shook into action. In a minute he was there in an oddly clean waiting room. A woman with large, white wings was typing away on a Mac computer. She pointed to the door, gave him a wink and thumbs up.

The office was glowing. So much so that you had to avert your eyes away from the being across the desk. Tom sat down.


"Hello Mr. God." Said Tom curtly. Then in a loud deep booming voice the other being spoke.


"Dr. God." These words were spoken with no annoyance. Just monotonously.

"Well Dr. God, Shall we begin?"

Then in a friendly voice God retorted, "Tom is it? Call me by my first name God. If were going to get through this we might as well be informal."

"Sure God. Let me ask, nay let me get to the point shall we? Which religion is right?"

"The Amish." Retorted God in a sly tone. Then the light began to diminish so you could see an outline of a figure.

"But you have an elevator and lights, and all that stuff!" Ejaculated Tom he quickly realized his error and sank back in his seat.

"Ahh you see," spoke God, "Mine works on the souls of the dead."

Tom's face grew confused, freaked out, and then he regained his composure scribbling everything down. "Now God here's a question that human philosophers have pondered over many years...'Why do bad things happen to good people?' I have wondered this myself to be honest."

God smiled and the light grew brighter. "Another simple answer they are so smug. I mean its like there saying, 'Oh be like me I'm a goody goody do what I do."

Tom smiled and wrote down God's answer. Then he asked again, "If there is a figure we should emulate, besides Jesus who would it be?"

"Chuck Norris."

Tom's eyes grew wide as he tried to understand, and he wondered if he should ask what God knew what he was going to.

"And I'll tell you why. I have seen your documentaries on him and he seems amazing. Did you see the episode..."

Tom shot in trying to stop God from seeming foolish, "You do know that those shows are fictional."
"Fake! They're fake! But the round-house kick. I mean that always gets him." God trailed off the last words finally realizing it all. "My life my idol, exposed I mean..."

"Are you ok Dr. God." Tom leaned forward in an instinctive urge to comfort the omnipotent being.

"I'll be fine. Just give a minute." God took a tissue from the desk wiped his eyes and crumbled it up.

Tom became confused again and then spoke, "Are you crying?"

God wailed in pain and then screeched an answer, "Why can't I cry. 'Oh look at God. He's crying.' Well I have feelings too! And what happened if I turned out all 'Wizard of Oz' on you huh.? Well guess what sometimes you people are so selfish. I mean maybe Jesus didn't die for your sins. Huh? Ever think about that. I sent him down to make sure that everything was going good. And then what's the first thing you do? Nail him to a cross.

"Then what do I do huh? I forgive you, I let it go. Then you have this idea of coming in on my vacation days. I wrote a book and on the first page I tell you that Sunday is my day off! So what do you do you come in to my house. You begin to sing these awful songs. You raid my liquor cabinet, say it's my blood, raid my bread basket, and call it my body. Well do you know how crazy you sing. Then the Muslim's they're really nuts, not the bombings and those guys are just lunnies; but like their like Christians with the praying! 24/7 common, enough is enough. How would you like it if in the middle of the night I woke you up and started asking for favors!? I mean that's just rude. I'm too fat and lazy to get of my ass and get things done so I'm going to bug you for it.

"Do you know I had a person pray for an AC/DC CD. Now I'm a 'hip' guy. I get around. But that's ridiculous! I can only listen to so many prayers at once, I missed a child asking to cure her mother of cancer for and AC/DC CD!"

Tom sat back scared. He was practically screaming at the end, and Tom was afraid to continue. After a couple of minutes and reassuring words form Dr. God he moved on. "Would you say that is the most ridiculous prayer you have ever received?"

"Not by a long shot kid," God echoed in a calming voice, "not by a long shot. I was eating a PB&J sandwich, when the prayer phone rings. Every millionth caller I listen too. So I get up I pick it up, and someone prays to me that a prostitute isn't a man."

"What?" half-yelled Tom?

"And the worst part is he did a Hail Mary and Our Father too. So I answered him back."

"What do you mean?"


"I talked back." Said god slyly. "I said 'Now he is.' Boy was it a good joke. And man was the prostitute shocked when he discovered the addition."

Tom laughed. He then flipped to a new page. He took a look at his watch the secretary said he only had to four which was but fifteen minutes off. He moved to the key questions. "Will the majority of American's get into Heaven?"

"Not by a long shot." Said God almost apologetically.

"What! Why?" Asked Tom worriedly.

"Well that's simple Nike."

"The shoes?"

"Well that's one thing. I mean that and Wal-Mart."

"Wal-Mart?"

"Wal-Mart. Not because they crush small business. But because it's just not right. A store were you can get Morphine and Tube Socks it's just not natural."

Tom made a note not to shop at Wal-Mart and to buy some Reeboks. He then checked his watch and continued. "Is there intelligent life in the Universe besides man, and you of course, an angels, and all of that."

"Yeps. And that's another reason you're going to hell. Turkeys."

"TURKEYS! They drown staring at the rain with their mouths open!"

"Ya but only to get to Heaven."

Tom maid another note and then moved on before time ran out, "What is the meaning of life?"

"To become as rich and fat as you possibly can before you die a horrible, slow death."

God stood up, shook Tom's hand and whispered into his ear, "Don't worry I don't care about you praying for that AC/DC CD they're pretty good. I like that "High Way to Hell Song."