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God/Milf (March 20, 2009. Issue 15. The DirtyDirty.)

After a long day at work, I had just left my office, and when I arrived at the bus stop, God was there. She'd been waiting for me. Although I'd never seen her before, I knew it was her. It was just one of those things you already know, you know? And she looked like God. By that I mean perfect. God was a real cougar.

"Hi, God." I said and sat down. "Good to see you. I've been meaning to get in touch. My bad. It's been crazy at the office lately and my roommate's a drug attic." She looked puzzled, but interested. "His name's Jack, but you probably already knew that."

She took a deep breath and for some reason it gave me chills perhaps because I'd just seen God take a deep breath. Not many people have seen that. Then, she spoke, and the tone of her voice sounded just like it should've: blessedly euphonic. "Yes," she said. "I know Jack. He is a cokehead."

I'll describe God, but you know what she looks like: perfect. Oh, God was hot. But I didn't make a move. God makes moves, not me. Her rhetoric was sharp and included a plethora of big words that I'd probably read but never heard or even learned to pronounce, so to me they were as foreign as her heavenly accent that had a hint of Latin or maybe Staten Island (not sure why). She had hippie hair, which means brown, long and straight, and she wore a white muslin gown. Oh God! was such a milf! Her eyes were the color of money (US dollars) and she had large pearly teeth. A few other things about God: button nose, defined jaw line, and thin wrists, the left of which had a hand woven LIVESTRONG bracelet wrapped around it. Custom, probably.

"I know Jack sits around all day," God said, "busting lines and what have him. It's better than crack, I'll give him that, but he isn't very healthy and the circles around his eyes look like sunglasses or something. He's lazy as hell, too. All he does is sit on the couch. Jack's pretty mellow for a cokehead. And he should maybe change his tank top or at least shave his neck once in while. Hairy necks are gross."

The bus had arrived, but God wasn't boarding so neither was I. "God," I said. "I need a favor."

She didn't move. I waited. She finally said, "Well? Go on?"

I got nervous and began to sweat. It was beading from my forehead, and it made my eye sting. "Oh," I said. "Will you take Jack with you? I mean, when you go back to the Pearly Gates? He's a good guy, he belongs in heaven. But he steals things from me. He takes cookies from my cookie jar. And I'm afraid he'll suck me into his druggie ways. I've been tempted, you know, to bust a line and stuff. But I didn't. But I'm afraid about next time. God, please have mercy on me. Will you?"

She looked at me while I fidgeted with the zipper on my jacket. I always fidget with that zipper, which is why I only wear it when it's raining or gloomy outside. Otherwise I'd never leave the zipper alone, and I probably wouldn't do anything else.

"Yes," she replied. "But Jack is staying here." Just then my zipper broke. Then God made it rain and told me to follow her.