Fender Bender

"Do you know who I am?"

"The guy who thought he had enough space to cut me off?"

He just stared at me with eyes so piercing they seemed to look through me. I just shook my head and pulled out my phone to take a picture of his documents while also pulling out mine.

"Well, do you?" He said in such a booming voice I started to think I should get back in the car and call 911.

"Well, as soon as you show me your license, I'll know."

"I don't need a license."

"How am I not surprised," I rolled my eyes. "I don't know where you're from, buddy, but around here, you need a license to drive."

"I am He who makes that which is made."

"Oooookay. Look, I think we'll have to get the police involved. If you don't have a license I assume you also don't have insurance. I need a police report so my insurance rates don't jump through the roof because you're an irresponsible driver." I started to dial 911.

"Why don't you understand? I am the Creator of all that is and ever will be."

I paused, looking at him with raised eyebrows. "Ooooooh. God. You think you're God." I started backing up slowly.

"I do not think. I am."

"Well actually, the phrase is I think therefore I am, but whatever. I'm sure you're right," all said as I inched back towards the door of my car.

"Do not walk away from me. You hit my car. You must repair it."

"I hit your car because you made an error of judgment."

"I do not make errors of judgment."

"Um, yeah, must be nice to live in your head," I said, sliding into my car and locking the door.

When the police arrived, He was standing on the hood of my car urging all the passersby to repent for God was amongst us and the end was near.

They called the local psychiatric hospital where he is now a guest on the floor housing all the other patients who think they're God.

My insurance rates went up since He was found not liable due to reasons of insanity.