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Making Sense of Things [open]
« Thread started on: Oct 25th, 2007, 5:33pm »
Miheal had imagined being sent to a heaven somewhere near a bakery, so he could have a blueberry muffin every day, and enjoy nice company to sip tea with and discuss the proper way to polish their pretty little harps or something. But instead, here he was, on earth. God hadn’t forsaken him or rejected him; he was too proud to believe that. Maybe he’d just gotten a second chance from the powers-that-be?
He plucked a worm out of his ear. God apparently wasn’t too subtle when he gave second chances.
He approached the altar, looking down at his feet. Why didn’t they bury people with shoes anymore? It was a lot more comfortable for limping around in. He was losing the point, though, he came here to ask God what’s up, and that’s what he was going to do.
“Uh… God? I didn’t ask for this… I mean, I don’t have a pulse, I’m not breathing, and I should be—no, I AM dead. Can you give me a sign, or something? Please? What am I supposed to do now?”
Unfortunately, his jaw broke halfway off in mid-sentence, so it sounded more like this:
“Uhh… God? I didn’t ask for this… I mean, I don’t have a pulse, I’m not glabble, hak muu shlook flam—nee, bu BLARGH gledd. Shlen bloo fig blee gak hine, boh shlimbing? Flee? Glak ma ghek huggak bu gloo gaka?”
Noticing this, he surreptitiously popped it back into place with a quick push and some very disgusting noises, that wound up echoing very loudly.
“I hate flesh,” he sighed.