56. Not so cool

I got off the elevator at the thirteenth floor. Jeff was outside the door, using a scraper to remove the letters from his last “joke”.

This surprised me. “You have to do this by hand? You can’t do some religious magical horseshit to just change the letters?”

He turned to me. “Oh hey, Paul. I wasn’t expecting you today. Yeah, I tried to change the letters by what you call ‘magic’, but this shit is sticky. It always leaves a mess behind. Sometimes there’s just no substitute for doing the work by hand.”

The Almighty Ruler of the Universe, and he can’t recreate the effect of a bottle of Goo Gone. I held out the pamphlet. “Have you seen this shit?”

“Oh yeah, from that shitty church in the temporary building out Highway 5. What about it?”

“What about it? They’re calling me a frigging prophet! I didn’t sign up for that shit. This is not so cool.”

“Well technically I wouldn’t say you’re a prophet. Doesn’t that usually imply predicting the future?”

“The dictionary defines a prophet as ‘a person who speaks for God or a deity, or by divine inspiration.’”

The Almighty handed the pamphlet back to me, and resumed his scraping. “Hmm. Then I guess you’re a prophet.”

I resisted the urge to bury that scraper in his almighty fucking skull: Even if there isn’t a Hell, there probably is a special punishment for someone who kills God. “So what do I do about this? I don’t want to be known as a prophet.”

Yahweh stopped what he was doing and turned back to me. “Dude, I don’t know what the deal is. You had to know this would happen. If you didn’t want to be a prophet, you shouldn’t have accepted the job.”

“I was never given the option of turning down an interview with Jehovah. I was told we would start the interviews. I could have said no?”

“Shit. Sorry, dude. I guess I didn’t make it clear that this was a request. Well we’ve gotten this far, you can’t stop now.” He smiled slightly and turned back to his work. “Especially now that you’re a prophet.”