I was slumming last night: drinking PBR on the roof and staring out towards the backside of the old protty church northwards across the alley. As I stood there musing on the bent lightning rod atop the church cupola I thought of something I said to a friend the other day while standing in the same spot.
God and I are having a disagreement. We’re not talking. I think he owes me an explanation. He disagrees.
I looked at that bent lightning rod and I said, “See that bent lightning rod?
He missed.
Wanker.”