There was a knock.
It was Gabriel. He doesn’t usually come at this time, thought God.
“What is it?”
“The English are asking for your help.”
It was the French yesterday. Today, the English. They are at war with each other. What a dilemma, He thought.
“Which side do you think I should take, Gabriel?”
“Well, you always take the right side, do You not? I’m sure whichever choice You make You’ll be fine. Besides, You always win.”
Gabriel had a point. He was God after all.
“Very well. Give them my blessing.”
“Which side, Sir?”
“Whichever you feel like Gabriel. I will win either way. No?”
Gabriel rolled his eyes, turned around, walked out and closed the door behind him.
God was glad the telephone hotline had been dismantled in His room. Peace and quiet, especially on Sundays. But He paused for a moment. Why it is a phone anyway? There were no phones in the days of this war. He decided not to think about this contradiction. It was safer. The thought might drive Him crazy, He thought.
The door abruptly open and Gabriel rushed back into the room with a look of satisfaction. So soon. Time never meant much to Him.
“We won!” he said.
“Well, that was to be expected. I have never lost, have I?”
Gabriel shook his head.
“Congratulate them for Me.”
Gabriel did as he was told. On his way back he ran into those Chosen People. They needed God’s help. So he went back to tell God. But He wasn’t in. A sign hung on the door knob. “Out to lunch,” it read.
Gabriel waited and waited, but God never came back.