An angel came to me in a dream after a bachelor party that included tequila shooters. Rather than a smiling, golden-haired beauty, this apparition looked like Woody Allen in leotards.
"You deserve a reward," he said, in an accent as distinctly New York as a thin-crust pizza. "You don't cheat on your wife, you treat others with respect and your cholesterol is down to 179."
So, he gave me God's personal telephone number.
"Write it down. I'm not coming back. These tights chafe." He pulled at himself like a twelve-year-old boy watching a Britney Spears video.
I wrote it on the back of my hand.
He did a pirouette, tripped, apologized for his fallen arches, and disappeared.
The number looked long distance, so I used my cell since I have unlimited free minutes on weekends. My hands shook as I punched the numbers. Was this fear and trembling? Or delirium tremens?
To my surprise, there was a pick up on the third ring.
"Thank you for calling God," a reassuring female voice said. "The King of the Universe is busy right now, but your call is important to Him."
"Damn," I said aloud, regretting my language immediately.
"Please listen to the following message as our options have changed."
I wondered what changing options might mean in the cosmic sense.
"If this is an emergency, please press one."
I let that one go. I didn't want to jump ahead of a Haitian praying for the safety of her family.
"If you'd like God to save the life of a child or other family member, please press two."
I continued listening.
"If you're worried about a hurricane, earthquake, tornado or other natural disaster, please press three."
I can watch the Weather Channel.
"If you're calling about a personal crisis, please press four."
I figured my hangover or whether to go with a Roth IRA didn't qualify, so I listened to some more options. However, none included, "If you just want to chat with the Big Guy about what He's been up to, maybe get his take on the Superbowl, hold on and He'll get with you."
I knew I might regret this, but I hung up. Except for the hangover, my life was going well. Other people needed Him more than I did.
My wife stirred and I thanked her as I checked the back of my hand.
"You deserve a reward," he said, in an accent as distinctly New York as a thin-crust pizza. "You don't cheat on your wife, you treat others with respect and your cholesterol is down to 179."
So, he gave me God's personal telephone number.
"Write it down. I'm not coming back. These tights chafe." He pulled at himself like a twelve-year-old boy watching a Britney Spears video.
I wrote it on the back of my hand.
He did a pirouette, tripped, apologized for his fallen arches, and disappeared.
The number looked long distance, so I used my cell since I have unlimited free minutes on weekends. My hands shook as I punched the numbers. Was this fear and trembling? Or delirium tremens?
To my surprise, there was a pick up on the third ring.
"Thank you for calling God," a reassuring female voice said. "The King of the Universe is busy right now, but your call is important to Him."
"Damn," I said aloud, regretting my language immediately.
"Please listen to the following message as our options have changed."
I wondered what changing options might mean in the cosmic sense.
"If this is an emergency, please press one."
I let that one go. I didn't want to jump ahead of a Haitian praying for the safety of her family.
"If you'd like God to save the life of a child or other family member, please press two."
I continued listening.
"If you're worried about a hurricane, earthquake, tornado or other natural disaster, please press three."
I can watch the Weather Channel.
"If you're calling about a personal crisis, please press four."
I figured my hangover or whether to go with a Roth IRA didn't qualify, so I listened to some more options. However, none included, "If you just want to chat with the Big Guy about what He's been up to, maybe get his take on the Superbowl, hold on and He'll get with you."
I knew I might regret this, but I hung up. Except for the hangover, my life was going well. Other people needed Him more than I did.
My wife stirred and I thanked her as I checked the back of my hand.
