Conversation With God.

'Excuse me, God.’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s 2.40 in the morning and I’m not even a bit tired.’

‘So?’

‘So, I seem to be getting my energy back.’

‘OK, so what’s the problem?’

‘Well, is there any chance I could have my hair back, too?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s against the rules.’

‘What rules?’

‘My rules.’

‘Oh. How about dancing, then?’

‘What about dancing?’

‘Well, I used to be a half-decent mover, if you remember.’

‘I don’t need to remember. I’m God.’

‘Oh, yeah. OK. Well, I wondered whether I might be allowed to dance energetically to a three-minute pop music track again – without getting a bit tight-chested.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Maybe?’

‘Practice, my boy, practice, and just maybe the facility will return.’

‘I suppose I’d look silly.’

‘Of course.’

‘But it doesn’t matter, does it, as long as there’s nobody watching.’

‘That depends on your perception of reality.’

‘In what way?’

‘Whether it’s subjective or objective.’

‘Oh, right. Never thought of that.’

‘Humans don’t.’

‘No, s’ppose not. OK, can I ask a simple question?’

‘Of course.’

‘Will I get a simple answer?’

‘Probably not.’

‘Shall I try anyway?’

‘Go ahead.’

‘If I practice the dancing, will I have a heart attack?’

‘Ah, that’s for me to know and you to find out.’

‘Shit! Why do I bother?’

‘Because you’re still alive?’

‘But for how much longer?’

‘Ah, that’s for me to know and you to find out.’

‘Bollocks! Change the freggin’ record!’

‘Ha!’