The Archangel Michael followed lock step behind the big man. He stammered desperately searching the expense report.
“Sir, I’ve said it once before, but I’ll say it again. I really don’t think it’s a good idea outsource the incoming inquiry department. I-I know you have the final say and all, but isn’t answering prayers, er, sort of your whole deal?” Michael winced as he delivered his opinion to the back of His head.
God stopped and turned. “Well, now that you put it that way, I guess it is.” He shook his head and laughed. “But, I just don’t think we can swing it anymore. There’s like 8 trillion people down there now. Too many.”
“I think you meant 8 billion, with a B… sir.” Michael said, clutching his clipboard to his chest.
“Trillion, Billion, Million. It’s all the same. There’s so many voices it’s hard to concentrate. I think it’ll be better this way.” Just then, something behind Michael caught God’s eye. He pointed a finger gun and clicked. “Hey Gooch! Smells like some gnarly stuff you got over there. Yo, you and me.” God brought his left fist to his mouth and extended the right, thumb out, and made small circles at his waist. “Catch you later,” He laughed.
Michael resumed. “Ah, I think if we cut some of the more extravagant spending we could afford to keep incoming inquiries in-house.”
God was reaching the end of his holy rope. “What! What do you want to cut? I don’t know if you noticed Mike, but this is heaven.” God spread his hands to the vast cloudiness around him. “Extravagance is the name of the game.”
“Er, yes sir. But, I was thinking we could do without f the chocolate fountains.”
“What? The chocolate fountains? Definitely not. I love those.” He cocked an eyebrow at Michael. “You been swimming in them yet?”
“No sir. It’s just that they’re so, well, big. Do we really need a chocolate fountain fashioned after Heinz field?”
“Yes. Yes we do. What else?”
Michael flipped through the rest of his highlighting. Chocolate fountains was supposed to be a gimme, and He didn’t even budge on that. “What about Vatican City? That’s getting a bit out of hand.”
God shrugged. “Can’t argue with you there, but that’s the human’s money and doesn’t factor into our budget. Unless–” God stopped and rubbed his chin. “Maybe, we just get outsource prayers to Vatican City.”
Michael’s eyes widened. “Sir– I don’t think giving humans the power of prayer granting is a good idea.”
He put a hand up. “I think I know what I’m doing. Get me the pope. If they’re going to use my brand, they’ve got to start carrying some weight. What’s the worst that could happen?”