ME AND GOD

Me and God
By Karen Kay Remus © 2011


I’m on a first name basis with God. I talk to Him every day and I say, “God this and God that…” and He doesn’t have a problem with it. He doesn’t give me that, “It’s Mr. God to you,” or “Sir God,” or “Dr. God.” No, just “God” is fine. So I figure we’re pret-ty tight. Right? Pret-ty tight.


So the other day I’m talking to my best buddy, God, and I say, “Hey God, if we’re such great friends, how cum I always have to do all the talking?” And you know what he says? Nothing. Complete, utter, silence. And I say, “Oh, You’re giving me the silent treatment now, right?” Nothing. Not a peep.


The next day, I’m at my psychiatrist’s office—and this guy is “Dr. Dude.” No way would he ever let me call him “Jeff.” It’s totally professional—not all cozy and informal like with God. And he asks me, “Have you been hearing voices?” And I say, “Uh, yeah…otherwise I wouldn’t know you just asked me a stupid fucking question, now would I?”


He says, “I mean voices that other people can’t hear?” And I say, “Well, you’re my doctor, and we're in a session, and if anyone else besides me can hear your goddam voice right now, I’m gonna sue your Freudian ass.”


Then he gets all huffy and says, “If you continue to use that language with me, I’m going to dismiss you from my practice.” And I say, “English is the only language I know, so I guess you’re going to have to dismiss me.”


Then HE starts giving me the silent treatment. After about 20 minutes I say, “You’re about as chatty as God,” and you know what he says? Nothing.


So I say, “Fuck this, Jeff, I’m outta here.” And he says, “Indeed, you are.” And a few days later, I get a letter saying I’m dismissed from his practice.


So then I get to thinking about God, and I wonder if He’s going to pull the same shit. So I say, “God? Are you giving me the silent treatment as a prelude to dismissing me from your practice? Am I speaking the wrong language or something?”


And you know what he says?


“Shut thou the fuck up!”