My God (c)
By
Michael Casey
To start with , it was an impossibility , but strange things have happened since I met the wife . God had been quietly reading the sports pages of his newspaper , printed in hieroglyphics of course , he was wandering would Manchester United ever be beaten and why didn’t David Beckham call his son John , it was such a nice name after all . Instead of naming him after a bridge , God’s name was John after all , there he sat on his clouds worrying about us all , why didn’t we all talk to him more , not formal prayers , just “if onlys” and sighs and groans , even “you bastard its all your fault “ or “you don’t exist anyway” . A father worries about his children and when they don’t talk to him he worries all the more . Sure some of his kids talked , or rather prayed every day , but these weren’t the ones he worried about . It was the ones who were too tired to pray , because they worked such such funny / hard hours , whose own kids made them worry so much , it was these who made God worry so much , his elbows were constantly wore away on his cardigan as God lay on the floor his head in his hands and cried , sure Mary the Virgin always darned his elbows but these past 2000 years they always needed redarning . But he heard my prayer as I stood by the fridge and said “all I want is to meet somebody and get married and perhaps have a family and do something useful with my life” 3 wishes if you like .
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I was doing some security and this flashed by so I'm sharing it.
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