God, Do Your Elves Have Access to Google?: How Humor Keeps You Sane on the Train

8/14/14

TEXTING GOD ON THE TRAIN

ME: God? Are you there, God? I have a small request... Could you stop time for a few hours tomorrow so I can finish my work? I know I haven't acknowledged you in years, and, honestly, I cannot believe there is not, nor has ever been, a God Protection Services case filed against me for neglect. Anyway, I might consider going back to church if you grant my request... Please and thank you. Regards, Verna

FRIEND: Verna, this is God. The cost of your request will be 4,578,497 cupcakes. Sincerely, your BFF4Evar, Zeus.

ME: God, I appreciate your timely response. I'm not sure why, but I always envisioned you to be a health nut. Maybe the cupcakes are for your elves? Would you like white, yellow, or red velvet cake? What kind of icing? Do you prefer confetti, sugar sanding, or nonpareils sprinkles? Sincerely your biggest cynic, Verna.

FRIEND: Verna, I am God and can make my physique into anything I want at any time. I sustain myself solely off of sugar. All kinds please. Also, your sprinkle knowledge is impressive. Respectfully, God.

ME: God, I really know nothing about sprinkles. Since I am not omniscient like you, I rely on the most accessible omniscient source: Google. Do your elves have access to Google at the North Heaven? I'd imagine they'd need to look up rocking horse blueprints from time to time as trends come and go. I'd imagine that the toy celebration in honor of Jesus' birth is a major "make it work" moment up there. (Do you like Tim Gunn?) Or, maybe there is a program that allows the elves to google your brain? Do you even have a brain? It's hotly contested down here if you have a physical body or not. Anyway, since I have an open line of communication, I have one more question: Team Edward or Team Jacob? Cheers, Verna.

GOD: Verna, I respectfully decline to answer your question inquiring if I am Team Edward or Team Jacob- it asks me to comment on homosexuality, and I avoid contentious topics like my locust plague. I avoid these conversations because my mother, Mary, will criticize me regarding it daily until I express another opinion. Also, I really don't want to talk to Ted Cruz and something inside of me says he will reach out either way if I go public with my thoughts on the topic. Anyway, it's approaching my bedtime. I am going to decompress by watching The Real Housewives of New Jersey. Let me know when the cupcakes are ready and I will provide you with my address here at the North Heaven. Take care, God.

ME: Goodnight, God. It's been a real pleasure. Elfgelic dreams, Verna.