VxPoem ID: 42483
Posted: April 29th. 2012 2:54:52 PM
by Jemma Hawtrey
Age Group: Adult
This is more a story than a poem but it doesnt really fit into the articles side of things. I hope you enjoy it.
God was sitting at his desk doing his soul returns for the last century. He hated the job but since all that business with his 'black death' rebates, he just didnít trust accountants. For a start, all the good ones were 'downstairs'.
The phone rang, a fairly rare occurrence and he answered tersely
"Omniscient Industries, managing director speaking...".
It was Saint Peter on the line.
"Hi Roger...", (for this was Gods name, I mean John would just have been too confusing) , "we got ourselves a situation".
God sighed inwardly and asked Pete to explain the problem.
"See, thereís this guy and heís at the gate..."
Pete had always been one to state the obvious.
"See, he makes Sir Galahad look like George Bush..."
God shuddered, he didnít need to hear that name.
"So whatís the problem?"
Pete even sounded uncomfortable.
"Well he ainít ever been married, boss"
That one word had the all finality of coffin lids slamming shut. DEATH had nothing on it.
A while later (about 12 years by human measurement, immortality can get really boring) the phone rang again.
" Whatís up Pete?"
" We got another problem..."
"Tell me we ainít got another Brokeback boy..."
"Not quite, its more like Chasing Amy..."
Now it has to be said, God didnít really care what people did as long as they were basically good. Trouble is, the shareholders did, and it didnít do to offend them.
"Tell her sorry, nothing we can do"
God shook his white maned head and got back to unraveling his accounts.
It was about 20 human years later that the phone went again.
"For My sake Pete, whatís up now..?"
Poor old Pete sounded frantic & that hadn't happened since the Ascension (it took Peter a good run-up)
"Someoneís screwed up at the depot, we got a lass here boss"
Will he ever get to the point? God thought.
"...And her names Marcus Kingsley!"
"Bloody Hel-downstairs... what will they think of next?"
"I dunno boss, but Iím not sure I wanna find out"
"Boss, arenít the mortals gonna get upset if we keep turning good people away?"
"Just call it company policy...."
It was about 2 weeks later they heard on GNN about the hostile takeover... that coalition of Wiccans, Gays, Lesbians & Transpeople. The company name had been something like Summerlands Inc God recalled.
As he cleared out his desk God reflected that while the shareholders are important, you donít get anywhere without customers.
He was really gonna miss the company wings....
Oh well...an immortality of daytime TV... it could be worse...
Then again God thought we've got Jay Leno....
And back on Earth a sudden gentle breeze blew through an Oaken grove, you might have thought it almost sounded like a downsized God sighing....
Author's Location: Colchester, England
More Poems: Jemma Hawtrey has posted 70 additional poems- View them?
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