“You know I am married,” She repeated, sliding her forefinger across the brim of her empty wine glass. God sighed gesturing subtly to draw the moisture in the air to her glass, starting the dramatic switch to wine only after it had been half filled. “Adultery hasn’t stopped being a thing has it?”

“Listen, Mary,” God spoke “It’s not exactly like that. Endgames the same but there is a subtle difference in logistics that grants this case an allowance.”

She raised a brow “Why take me out a second time if this is so important to you? Why don’t we just get it over with?”

“There's an order to things, you don’t strictly need to understand. It can’t be done until the third date.” She clicked her tongue and leaned back in her seat.

“Joseph isn’t going to like this, not one bit.”

“Trust me nobody ends up caring that much,” God muttered as he stabbed at the food around his plate.

“Really? You know that?” There was a sudden stutter in Gods movement.

“Y… well yeah,” He answered taking a second to look up from his plate. “I’m God. I am the Alpha and the Omega. Who is and who was and who is to come, the almighty.” Mary practically jumped out of her seat. She looked God dead in the eyes then glanced away quickly and bit her lip in thought.

“What is it?” he asked. She slowly turned back to him.

“S… So you can see into the future and the past?”

“Well I kinda am the future and the past, existing as one if you can wrap your head around that it's actually very interesting…”

“So, could you please answer a question for me?” God took a moment to think.

“Sure, as long as it's just the one.”

“Am I remembered?” God lowered his eyes back to his plate.

“You children. No, they get your being but not your soul. That's a very misguided question.” Mary sat up, forcefully folding her arms. “Now you should have asked what meaning there is in your life, you're about to bring the world her savior.” Mary stood up.

“I hope you don’t act this way on the third date.” God sighed.

“Women,” he mumbled to himself.

The dust of this old house creaks, creeping down my spine. The tone of your voice when you said it was all going to be fine, I knew a lie. The look in your eye when I said goodbye, I knew deceit. I put you back so they'd stop calling me ‘deadbeat’.

I hold my breath thinking you're at the door. I have no idea what I needed you for. Yet you're in my brain and under my skin and in my house. You’re this feather brains bird louse. You’ve infected the beating in my veins. These rushes of blood are just massive pains.

I crawl from these sheets and slither down stairs. Sweat at my cold husk tears. Regretfully, I descend into the abyss you’ve made my basement. Hot and huffing I take you from your encasement. With a pulsing hand, I turn you on. Your eyes are glass, give me love to last! In five minutes you’ll be gone. 

This time for good.

To gabb at the mount of gabe even florists mut up a nave,

Loosely a lumx quoth on how to behave not a twul that night would save,

Old mean crimble and crump the mistle tumpf,

What woohly marccs whose las lemarks would waist mulux but gave.

These mus le bumps make laooman gumps may mist their glucks away,

Yet garneth mucs with shomen tumps lust lumx, maigul, they say.