Dear God
This is the first time I have ever written a suicide note…….well….not counting that one time after I strangled that homeless guy and dumped his body in the lake after I accidentally gave him $20 thinking it was a dollar and he wouldn’t give it back. I didn’t know his name and so I just kind of scrawled a squiggle as his signature at the end of his sad “woe is me” note. I guess bringing that up right now isn’t going to help my cause to get into your Heaven Compound or whatever you’re calling it these days.
So the word is that the world is ending. Fortunately, by the time you read this I will probably be laying on a cold slab in the morgue and not suffering the ordeal of this “end of the world as we know it” business. I mean seriously, who wants that mallarchy?
So when I got the word that The Rapture was coming to my neighborhood, I decided I was going to slash my wrists in the bathtub…which, as you know, is where I get most of my ideas.
Anyhoo, I know that suicide is frowned upon, but the way i figure it, you’re going to be so busy judging the sinners and whatnot I’d make it easy for you.
I am a sinner, God. I’m sorry that I have sinned so much and with such frequency, but here’s my excuse: You made me in your image and you’ve been really hush-hush these last 2,000 years about what is acceptable and what’s not. No offense, but The Bible is an antiquated business model for good behavior and it’s so very long and so mindnumbingly boring, and soooooo incredibly preachy.
My excuse for all my misdeeds is based entirely on the premise that if you created me, you must have known what you were doing and allowed me to do the stuff I did because I’ve been told from like Day 1 that you were omnipotent and omnipresent: you know like “all knowing” and “all-seeing” and I’m assuming “all-hearing” although that’s not ever mentioned….your ears must be huge BTW.
So yeah, when I did that one thing with those two flight attendants in the garden of the Icelandic Embassy in Kensington Gardens, I figured that since you didn’t strike me down with a lightning bolt, we were cool. Although I did get food poisoning the following week from eating a can of clam chowder that had been sitting on a shelf at my corner store since the week that Kennedy was assassinated. But I can’t blame you for that though….or wait….why can’t I blame you for that? And why can’t I blame you for the Kennedy assassination? I mean if people give you credit for creating the beautiful stuff like the trees and the birds and flowers and that one really hot chick that I love on the Internet, then you must also take the blame for expired chowder and earthquakes and Hitler.
I mean that’s only fair. And who was it that first said “The Lord works in mysterious ways.” Because thats a huge cop out. You know what? I don’t think I’m going to kill myself after all, because I want to wait and see what this Rapture’s all about. Judgment Day? You’re damned right. I’ve got some judging of my own to do.
Well, anyway, there are some people expecting something funny from me before this Rapture comes and I’m assuming you’ve got a pretty decent sense of humor, so if you think of anything hilarious, like really actually ending the world…lemme know.
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