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Witchvox Chapter: Local Poetry
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Poeem Specs
VxPoem ID: 42483
Category:
humor
Posted: April 29th. 2012 2:54:52 PM
Views: 148 |
Hostile Takeover
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.
Hostile Takeover
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 didn’t 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, there’s this guy and he’s at the gate..."
"Yes...?"
Pete had always been one to state the obvious.
"See, he makes Sir Galahad look like George Bush..."
God shuddered, he didn’t need to hear that name.
"So what’s the problem?"
Pete even sounded uncomfortable.
"Well he ain’t ever been married, boss"
"Oh"
That one word had the all finality of coffin lids slamming shut. DEATH had nothing on it.
"Right boss!"
>click<
A while later (about 12 years by human measurement, immortality can get really boring) the phone rang again.
"Umm, boss?"
" What’s up Pete?"
" We got another problem..."
"Tell me we ain’t got another Brokeback boy..."
"Not quite, its more like Chasing Amy..."
Now it has to be said, God didn’t really care what people did as long as they were basically good. Trouble is, the shareholders did, and it didn’t do to offend them.
"Tell her sorry, nothing we can do"
"Right"
>click<
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, what’s up now..?"
Poor old Pete sounded frantic & that hadn't happened since the Ascension (it took Peter a good run-up)
"Someone’s screwed up at the depot, we got a lass here boss"
"And...?"
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 I’m not sure I wanna find out"
"Boss, aren’t 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 don’t 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....
The End.
Author's Location: Colchester, England
More Poems: Jemma Hawtrey has posted 70 additional poems- View them?
Author's Profile: To learn more about Jemma Hawtrey - Click HERE
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