Is there a God?

[daemon]

Yes.

[Bucho]

A few weeks ago on a Sunday winter's afternoon I was in the back yard, loading up woolbags with a shit-tonne of garden clippings to haul off to the greenwaste dump, running close to being late but pretty sure I could make it before closing. That's when the old fella next door comes shuffling up and calling over the fence that he's locked himself out of his house.

"For fuck's sake dude, I don't have time for this shit, my woman only gave me one chore today and I'm already in danger of fucking it up - so sorry old man, you're on your own," is what I didn't say to him even though it was a fireball of frustration spinning in my head. What I did do was spend ten minutes being all kind and neighbourly and finding a way to break into his house without doing any damage, almost certainly fucking my plans to get the job done before the weekend was out.

So, inwardly fuming and still determined to somehow, against all odds, defy the laws of physics and complete my mission, I get the bags in the truck anyway and pull out onto the road cussing myself out for procrastinating all afternoon until I'd laid my ass in the hands of fate and fate looked to have given me a right royal spanking for it. It wasn't the old fucker's fault, it was mine for leaving shit to the last minute so that outside forces had the chance to fuck me, so I was fully pissed at myself, fully expecting to turn up to the dump too late and have to return home with the bags still full and my stupid tail between my legs.

There are nine traffic lights on the road to the dump and I would normally have to stop at more than half of them but for some reason, for some unexplainable, other-worldy reason, that day every single one turned all beautiful and heavenly and green as I approached and my truck and I barrelled on through, hope rising like a phoenix from the ashes of my earlier procrastinative idiocy, growing like a hard-on when I look through the KATG hot girls picture threads.

And right as I turn into the entry road to the tip my clock ticks over to seventeen hundred and two hours and I yet see the gates still miraculously open. Not only that, but pulling up to the drive-through window of the control booth the big polynesian gateman leans out, gives me and the truck a once over and decides to charge me only six bucks instead of the usual twenty seven.

You ask me if there is a God. You ask me if there is a God? I ask you, are you fucking kidding me?

[Junkenstein]

And Bucho wins.

[Bucho]

Nah, it was just dumb luck, I don't know shit about God.

Although there was an angel blowing me while I drove.