The phone rang just past 1:00 this morning.  I grabbed at it, hoping to catch it in time before it woke up the Insta-Princess and our wee one.

“Hello?”

HI.

“God?”

HE-HEEE.

“God, is that you?  It’s almost 1:15, what are you doing?”

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII.

“God, are you–are you drunk?”

NO.  NOOOOOOOOOOooooOOOOOOOOoooOOOOoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

MAYBE.

“Dude, you can’t be calling this late.  You’ll wake the baby.”

BUT I LOOOOVE YOU!  I L-O-V-E EVERYONE!

“That’s great–really–but I have to get to work in the morning.  Plus, like I said, there’s the baby to think about.”

I CAN ALWAYS TAKE AWAY HIS HEARING.  IT DIDN’T SEEM TO HURT MOZART.

“You mean Beethoven?”

YEAH, HIM.

“No, leave Auggy’s hearing; just don’t call so late, that’s all.”

BUT I LOVE YOU. YOU’RE MY BEST PAL, MY BUD.

“Need a ride home, huh?”

THAT JERK GANESHA HOOKED UP WITH SOME STUPID TRAMP AND LEFT ME ALONE. HE’S GOT A FRIGGIN’ ELEPHANT HEAD AND HE STILL GETS AN UNHOLY AMOUNT OF PLAY!  IS IT THE TUSKS?  THE TRUNK?  I CREATED THE FUCKING RAINBOW AND HE GETS NOOKIE!

“Well, yeah, sure, but the rainbow… it’s kinda seen as a gay thing.”

REALLY?

“Pretty much.”

OH.  THAT HELPS EXPLAIN THE BATHROOM ATTENDANT TONIGHT.

“Listen, you’re God, you don’t need a ride home.  You can just snap your holy fingers and you’re there.  What do you need me for?”

DON’T DRINK AND DIVINE, THAT’S MY MOTTO.

“Okay, where are you?”

THE HURRICANE, OVER IN WESTPORT.  LOTS OF HOTTEES TONIGHT.

“Fine, I’m on my way.”

WHAT ARE YOU DRIVING? IT SHOULD BE SOMETHING FLASHY SO THE BABES ARE IMPRESSED.

“The Civic.”

TRICKED-OUT?

“No, just the way I bought it six years ago.  Doors open the regular way, it runs quietly, and the same stereo system with which it rolled off the lot.”

GOOD TUNES?

“Bee-Gees.”

NOT GOOD ENOUGH.  BAM!  THERE, YOUR CIVIC IS NOW A MERCEDES.

“Really?  That’s awesome!  That’s frickin’ sweet!  That’s–”

HAW HAW!  JUST KIDDING!

“You’re a douche, God.”

AND PEACE BE WITH YOU.