Me: OMFG.
God: yeah, thats me. so listen, youve been writing some pretty interesting things in your blog but like i think its getting a little out of hnad
God: hand*
Me: You truly are omnipotent, you caught that spelling error before I pointed it out.
God: lol yeah, but seriously your jokes are really kinda screwed up
Me: You think? I've always done my material with good intentions, you know.
God: i dont think saying women get orgasms over making less money than guys is neccessarily good natured
Me: Necessarily.
God: wat?
Me: You're God, shouldn't you type properly?
God: dude, im fuckin god i made everything. i think i can type however i want
Me: Yeah, but still... You've got an image to keep up - nevermind.
God: listen man, your gunna go to hell if you dont stop writing such ridiculous shit
Me: You're.
God: or i can just send you now.
Me: All right, all right. You win, so I gotta stop writing material like that, huh?
God: well yeah, you write too many dick jokes anyway. your material all together is pretty weak, why dont
you try forging a new style or something?
Me: Bro, I'm 19, there isn't much I can wrap my head around. I have a lot of ideas but I'm not nearly
experienced enough to flesh them out into intellectual jokes.
God: are you condescending to me when you type like that?
Me: What? No. It's just a habit, I'm sorry.
God: it honestly sounds like everything you say has a hint of sarcasm or malice to it, no wonder every1 hates you
Me: You just...
God: what?
Me: Nothing.
God: im god and i told you everyone hates you, doesnt that surprise you?
Me: Not at all. I don't even care, anyway, knowing I'm a better typist than God is pretty much inflating my ego.
God reaches through Andrew's screen and casts him into the fiery pits of hell.
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