“Hello, ServPro?” Pause. “Yes, I can hold.”
God tapped his mighty sandaled foot against the basement’s laminate parquet floor as “Carry on My Wayward Son” played in his ear. The rock sat in the opposite corner, its face craggy and dark like the earth He had formed so many years ago. He checked His watch.
Click. “Hello, thank you for calling ServPro of Baltimore County, this is Josh. How may I help you?”
“Yeah, hi. Listen, I’ve got sort of an evolving situation in my basement. Do you guys handle large-object removal?”
“Let me check.” This Josh fellow–whom God happened to recognize from before he was formed in his mother’s womb–punched a few keys on his computer. “Can you tell me the nature of this large object?”
“It’s a rock.”
“All right. What kind of rock?”
Formed from the very fabric of the cosmos wouldn’t register with this guy, so instead God said, “Igneous.”
“Okay. Well, in that case, I’m going to have to transfer you to our Excavation and Removal Team. Can you hold?”
God–who routinely held both the Heavens and the Earth–said, “Yeah, I guess.”
As the hold music resumed, Derrick peeked through the doorway at the top of the basement stairs. “Hey, G-Unit! You call ServPro yet?”
“I’m on it, Derrick. They’ve got me on hold.”
“Okay, well tell ‘em to hurry up! The game’s starting.”
God held up a mighty hand–a hand that glowed with all the love humankind had ever known, weathered and warm with pure compassion–and replied, “How am I going to tell them to hurry up? Furthermore, if you think–”
Derrick had already closed the door.
God made a mental note to pray for him, as he lowered His mighty form onto the pullout couch.
Click. “Hello, thank you for calling ServPro of Baltimore County, this is Josh. How may I help you?”
God massaged the bridge of His omnipotent nose. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, at which point Jesus Christ looked up from the latest issue of Game Informer. God covered the receiver with his awesome, awesome hands. “Do you still have those lifting gloves I got you? This might be a two-man rock.”
Jesus Christ craned his neck, rising halfway out of the beanbag chair. “Don’t be mad,” he said, “but I think they’re under the rock.”
Still on the line, Josh said, “Sir? Hello?” This prompted God to smite the phone to pieces.
Jesus Christ approached, wiping his hands on his jeans. He’d spent all morning fixing his ten-speed in the driveway and still wore the grease. “Why did you create the rock if you weren’t sure you could lift it?”
“Because!” God snapped.
“Can you lift it, though? I know I’m not supposed to test the Lord my God, but–”
“Of course I can lift it! I’m God, dammit! But as the divine creator of the cosmos, it’s my job to routinely test those who act in my holy name–and I’ve got to tell you, ServPro isn’t looking too good.” God cracked His knuckles, a thunderclap echoing to the ends of the earth. “Now come on. Help me get under this thing,” He added, a prospect which, for Him, was pretty easy, since He’s everywhere all the time, especially in our hearts.
This is sacrilegious, wrong, and—quite frankly—hilarious.
Fucking hilarious 😆