Problem Child
titleless
- Joined
- Feb 21, 2001
- Posts
- 27,935
God leaned back into his Barcalounger and popped another beer. The PTL club was on and Pat Robertson was getting all wrong again.
"No you stupid fuck, I don't hate gays, I hate evil bastards like you!" he yelled at the screen.
God picked up his cell phone and dialed.
"Hello, Lucifer? Yeah, how you been, you old Devil? Haha...good, that's good. Hey, Beelzebub, I got a favor...er, actually a demand for you. There's this fuckstick on earth, named Pat Robertson....what? Yeah, a real dipshit...well, he's not due to go for a few years yet, but when he does he's going straight to you. Yeah, I want you to red-carpet him to the Jeffrey Dahmer section...anal probes with baseball bats and bad scrotum rashes for eternity, that sort of thing. Good...hey thanks a bunch. What? Yeah, golf on thursday would be great, Lucifer. See ya."
"No you stupid fuck, I don't hate gays, I hate evil bastards like you!" he yelled at the screen.
God picked up his cell phone and dialed.
"Hello, Lucifer? Yeah, how you been, you old Devil? Haha...good, that's good. Hey, Beelzebub, I got a favor...er, actually a demand for you. There's this fuckstick on earth, named Pat Robertson....what? Yeah, a real dipshit...well, he's not due to go for a few years yet, but when he does he's going straight to you. Yeah, I want you to red-carpet him to the Jeffrey Dahmer section...anal probes with baseball bats and bad scrotum rashes for eternity, that sort of thing. Good...hey thanks a bunch. What? Yeah, golf on thursday would be great, Lucifer. See ya."