In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth, then he moved to Phoenix, Arizona. He didn’t have any choice. It was doctor’s orders.
“Look,” Dr. Job said. “You have to get out of Florida. The humidity and the mold and the pollen are killing you.”
“I can’t leave. I can’t sell the house.” God tucked his shirt back into his pants. “This is the worst market I’ve seen since the Romans tried to sell a lot of bad real estate to Attila and the Huns. We all know how that turned out.”
Recently God bought way more house than he could afford. Had financed it with an adjustable rate mortgage, hoping to flip the house and make a killing. At the time, it seemed like a good play. Then the market crashed.
“Then,” Dr. J said. “you’re going to have to find a renter. Maybe your Son can rent it.”
“All he wants to do is go fishing. Him and his buddies. His disciples he calls them. Disciples, hah! Lazy bums more like it. Besides I don’t think I can trust him. Pretty soon he’ll move the homeless in and start a shelter. Don’t know what’s happened to him. I raised him to be a good capitalist and he’s turned into a socialist. Next thing I hear the pope will be taking his side.”
“Kids, I know they’re all alike,” Dr. J said. “Mine wants to be an actor. Run off to Hollywood and be a star. That kid couldn’t act his way out of a wet paper bag.”
“No appreciation,” God said, “for all the hard work it took to get us where we are today. All my hard work, I only did it for him.”
The doctor handed God a prescription. “All I’m saying,” Dr. J. urged, “if you get another attack like the one you just had, that’s it. No more God. God is dead. It’s the writing on the wall.”
God looked at the prescription. “This isn’t going to cost me an arm and a leg, is it?”
“Nope, it’s a generic. Besides Medicare pays for it.”
“Well, where should I move to?” God sighed.
“Phoenix would be good. I hear housing prices have dropped so much you can get a new house for a dime.”
“Yes, and you’ll be close to the Grand Canyon. I hear the view is downright awesome.”
“You mean in Arizona?”
“That’s the one.”
“I did put a lot of work into that canyon. It would have been a big sinkhole if I hadn’t done my thing. Nice job, if I say so myself. And then there’s those folks in Sedona. They do seem to have a knack for healing. I get a healing and I’m back in Florida.”
“Why do you like Florida so much?” Dr. J wanted to know.
“Oh, the weather’s nice here. Everywhere else it seems to have gotten out of hand. I mean, forest fires, earthquakes, floods, tornadoes. At least, I can see a hurricane coming several days ahead.”
“Sounds like it’s time for a Rapture and a Second Coming. All this weather and the wars and rumors of wars. The Middle East is coming unraveled. Makes me think Armageddon. ‘Course I don’t believe in all that stuff.”
“Oh, you don’t?” God asked.
“I’m Jewish,” Dr. J said. “Reformed, you know.”
God sticks out his hand. “I didn’t know,” he said. “I’m Jewish too.” The good doctor shook God’s hand. “Orthodox. Do you keep kosher?”
“Did Moses write the Torah,” Dr. J said. “Darn right I keep kosher. But you know it’s getting harder and harder to find a good kosher deli in the neighborhood.”
“Tell me about it.” God put on his coat and straightened his tie. “Seems like everything’s going online. Even the kosher delis.”
As God walked out into the waiting room, he heard the nurse call the next patient. “Mr. Satan, the doctor will see you now.”
God drove straight to the pharmacy. As he waited on his medication, he thought over what the doctor said.
Of course, I’ll have to transfer my job. Hopefully there’ll be an opening in Phoenix. One thing is for sure. If this doesn’t work out and I don’t get any better, I swear on a stack of Bibles I will come back and smite that s.o.b. of a doctor. He thinks he’s seen boils. He ain’t seen nothing compared to what it’ll be like when I’m through with him.