GOD

JULIUS: Who’s that, Grammy?

GRAMMY: God.

JULIUS: Who’s God?

GRAMMY: Who’s God? Barbara, what the hell are you teaching this boy? He just asked who God was.

ME: God is make-believe, Julius. Like the Tooth Fairy and Santa.

GRAMMY: What? Julius, go in the kitchen and play with your toilet paper.

JULIUS: Okay, Grammy.

ME: Sorry, Grammy. I thought we’d have that conversation when he was a bit older.

GRAMMY: Conversation? Assassination is more like it! You just killed God, the Tooth Fairy, and Santa!

ME: Don’t be silly, Grammy. You can’t kill something that doesn’t exist. And he’s known about the Tooth Fairy and Santa since he was three.

GRAMMY: What the hell kind of mother are you? No wonder the boy has no concept of fun.

ME: God is hardly fun, Grammy.

GRAMMY: That’s for sure. And you just pissed Him off. I’d be afraid to sleep tonight if I was you.

ME: Really, Grammy. If God existed and wanted to punish me, He wouldn’t have to wait until I was asle . . . .

(Crunch!)

JULIUS: Mommy! Mommy! A garbage truck just ran over your new car.

GRAMMY: You were saying?