September 29, 2009

Here We Go, Here We Go, Here We Go Again...

We have a new batch of cherubs-in-training, and OMMe they're getting on my nerves. They're all just so eager. They're constantly asking me if they can do anything to help - "Can I run that memo over to Miracles for you, God?" "Need me to take an extra sparrow-watching shift this weekend, God?" "Hey, God, you have a piece of lint in your beard. Want me to pluck it out for you?"

It's the same thing every time we get new C.I.T.s. I guess the job just appeals to a certain type, because I have yet to meet one that doesn't make me want to tear my beard out by the roots. Oh, and the squeaky voices! I do not remember, when composing the Laws of the Universe, writing anything saying that cherubs had to talk like a bunch of chipmunks hocked up in helium.

There's one bright side, though: since I've been through this so many times before, I've developed a fool-proof system for getting them to leave me alone. I have used this same trick 452 times, and it has worked literally every time. Except for those times when it didn't work. But other than those, every time.

Here's what I do: once all of my patience is used up, I just gather a few of them together and say, "Hey, will you guys get the rest of the C.I.T.s together and do me a big favor?" At which point they get so excited at the idea of being helpful and needed that they start giggling and shaking and I start worrying about my carpet.

"Of course, God!" they exclaim. "What can we do?"

"The Key to Happiness needs a good polishing," I say. "I don't think it's been polished in a while, so it'll probably take a little elbow grease. But be sure to take your time, because I want it done right. I want it to really sparkle."

"Oh, thank you, God!" they cry. "We'll get right on it! Where is the Key to Happiness?"

Then I laugh, my real big impressive now-THAT's-what-God's-laugh-must-sound-like laugh, and say, "Ha ha ha! Good one, guys! 'Where is the Key to Happiness?' That's the best joke I've heard all day! Now scoot!"

Then all the C.I.T.s feel so stupid for not knowing where the Key to Happiness is that they're too afraid to ask me, or anybody else, for fear of getting ridiculed or disciplined. So for the next few weeks all the C.I.T.s are scouring all over Heaven, armed with rags and little jars of polish, searching for the Key to Happiness. Which not only gets them out of my way, but it's just so ridiculous! Trying to find the actual Key to Happiness. That's just silly.

I keep the Key to Happiness close to me at all times so it doesn't get lost again. Right now it's in my top left desk drawer, next to my stash of Skittles.


Red Shoe Artist said...

can that key be cut at Mister Minute? Or has it got one of those special blocks on it? I'll give you 2 bucks and a Mister Whippy cone for a copy of that key. Now, I am a full-time artist living the life of a pauper.. if you think of the 2 bucks and icecream cone not as what it is, but as a percentage of my earnings, that's like a million dollars to other people... huh? Pretty good offer don't ya think?

Nick Walsh said...

Dear God,

Is it a sin that I immediately thought the Key to Happiness you talked about was something perverted?