Mrs. God

Image by Caio Basilio via Flickr

I'm Sherri, the wife of God. You've probably never heard of me, but that's cool. I'm the one who makes sure God gets your prayers every night. In fact, I delivered one of your prayers yesterday. You said, and I quote: "If tomorrow's blog story is successful I'll be forever grateful." I hope you don't mind me telling you that God put your submission in the stack with everyone else's, so I wouldn't get my hopes up.

What do you want to know about Him (notice the capitalization?) I'm sensing that you want to know His first name. If I told you I would have to kill you. Do you have another question? The answer is No. See, you didn't even have to ask.

Let me tell you one thing: He hates beards. All future prophets, enough with the beards. More questions? Yes, He is ambivalent about masturbation. Yes, He can read, but prefers your prayers be out loud. Yes, He will use lightning on someone. Boy, you can come up with them. Yes,  Hair loss will visit you. Yes, steeples are an extravagance. Yes, periods are necessary. Yes, Fanta is disgusting. Yes, worshiping 30 minutes or more is a waste of time. Yes, foreskin removal is a relic of the past but looks a hell of a lot better.Yes, yes, yes.

Excuse me, God is calling. Nice chatting.

I'm not a pervert after all

Image via Wikipedia

New Year's Eve

She was on a webcam and so was I. We stared at each other, and flirted, even though we were time zones apart.

She was in Germany and I was in Florida; New Year's was only an hour away. I wanted to see what 2010 looked like, so I stayed tuned.

She asked me where to focus the cam once the time arrived, and I said to keep it aimed at her pretty face. She smiled. Really, she asked, where would I like the cam? I told her on her ass, since I hadn't seen it yet. She giggled and pointed the cam at her screen. I saw myself. Gosh, what a mood killer.

I straightened up in my seat; my shoulders became less slumped. I tilted my head as to not show my bald spot.

"Too late," she said. "I already saw your bald spot."

"You mean...?"

"That night when you had to rush to the bathroom. I saw it then."

"I was ducking."

"Not far enough."

She had a folder on her screen, I didn't notice it til then. It was titled "Hermaphrodites."

"What's in the folder," I inquired. I was alarmed.

"Study material," she explained.

"Uh huh."

I saw her mouse appear on the screen. She then double-clicked the folder. Inside the folder was an assortment of pictures of male and female hermaphrodites ... except how could you tell?

"That's enough," I said. Both my hands were covering the screen.

"How sweet," she said.

"What?"

"What you just did. That's just the reaction I was hoping for. A little test. A test to see if we can continue flirting into next year."