Who Can Save Us From the Rapture???

WARNING: Skip this one if you are easily offended. It's called a joke. Thanks.
GOD: Oh, I have such a busy, busy day ahead of Me. Been planning this for a LONG time. It’s not every day that the apocalypse happens, right? And it’s sad that so few are taking this seriously. I mean, Mr. Camping has given them plenty of notice. Since when has a man of God used My name in falsehoods to inspire fear in others? It’s crazy. Now, let’s make sure My checklist is complete so I don’t forget anything I’ve got planned. Okay…gigantic earthquake for China around 6pm? Check. Massive plague for Europe? Check. So much for that royal wedding. Famine for North America? Definitely…those people are too fat, anyway. Check that one off. Hmmm…what else? War breaking out in the Middle East? Check. They’re used to that. Oh, I can’t wait until this is all over.

/loud crash

GOD: What in the name of Me is that?

/Heavenly Gates fly open

KIRK GIBSON: You fucking make me sick, Lord.

GOD: Gibby, My son! What art thou doing in Heaven?

GIBSON: Drop the “thou” act, okay? Remember that homer in the ’88 World Series when I couldn’t even walk? Sold my soul to Satan for that. Won it back in a poker game in ’93. Plus a few more favors. This is one of ‘em.

/puts dip the size of a baseball in mouth

GOD: I hate him.

GIBSON: Yeah, that prick isn’t crazy about You, either. Plus that sumbitch still owes me fifty bucks. But this isn’t about that. What’s this “rapture” bull snot about? Gibby’s got shit to do, still. I’m in the middle of a season, You dammit! This “end of the world” bullshit ain’t gonna fly, you know?

GOD: My son, I’ve grown tired of the human race letting Me down. It’s been 7000 years since I last cleansed the planet. The sinners have ruined the Earth with their pollution, their wars, their…

GIBSON: With all due respect, Mighty One, I didn’t expect you to be such a cry-tit.

GOD: How dare you…

GIBSON: Please, if I may. Aren’t we supposed to be created in Your image or some shit?

/picks nose…wipes it on cloud

GOD: Well, not literally…

GIBSON: Face it. If You created man, You created this mess. Why don’t You relax and let it run its course. If it’s as bad as You say it is, we’ll exterminate ourselves in the long run, won’t we?

GOD: I guess so, but…

GIBSON: But nothing, Lord. I mean, Jesus Christ…
JESUS CHRIST: ‘Sup? Someone call me?

GIBSON: Sorry ‘bout that. Just bullshittin’ with Your Old Man.

JESUS: No problemo. Dad, I’m gonna go play Xbox with JFK for a while. Lemmie know when You’re ready for the whole “Me going back to Earth” thing. I can’t wait to visit Vegas. Seeya!

GOD: Sigh. Kids, right?

GIBSON: Yeah, they’re a bitch sometimes. He looks like a good one, though.

GOD: Yes, I’m quite proud of Him.

GIBSON: Sure. He’s got Your nose, by the way. Anyway, whaddYa say? Gibby needs to prove to himself that he can win as a manager. This goes back to ’83, You see. Rozema and I were out on one of our classic drinking binges after a game. Now I told that pussy that he wasn’t man enough to chug a bottle of Beam while standing on his head. And Rosey, that crazy bastard, went and did it! Haha…were You watching that shit?

GOD: I caught a bit of it. “Dallas” was on that night. JR was a bastard, wasn’t he?

GIBSON: You bless Larry Hagman. Anyway, later that night at the hospital when Rosey’s stomach was being pumped, the doctor looked at my drunk ass and told me that I must be some sort of great leader or something. That I could talk a person into anything. And that’s what I’m doing now. I want to lead these kids in Arizona to the promised land, so to speak. And if You go through with this “rapture” b.s. I’m not gonna get that chance.

/shoots angel with crossbow

GIBSON: Wow. You’ve got some crazy game birds up there.

GOD: Please don’t do that again.

/heals angel

GOD: Maybe you’re right, My son. It doesn’t seem right to kill My creations all at once. Maybe this human experiment should go on longer, no matter the current disappointment.  I mean, Jersey Shore!  That sure wasn't in My plans.  But I'll grant your request, My son.

GIBSON: There you go, Big Guy! Thanks. And thanks for automatic weapons, too. I sure do love killing Your creatures in the woods.

GOD: That’s cool. Making new ones keeps Me busy.

/Heavenly Gates fly open
RANDY “MACHO MAN” SAVAGE: Oh, yeeeah! The “Macho Man” is digging this place, yeah! Hey, brother, you know where I can get a Slim Jim, yeeeah? I’m starving, DIG IT!

GIBSON: I got some deer jerky in my back pocket.

SAVAGE: That’ll work, yeeeah! Snap into it!


GIBSON: Sweet. I always loved that guy. Hey, is Sparky around? I’d love to say hi.

GOD: Sorry. He’s managing our softball team against the Greek Gods team this week. Then the road trip hits Hell for a four game series. Guess who owns that team?

GIBSON: Steinbrenner?

GOD: Obviously. Kirk, My son, thank you for helping Me realize My mistake. I guess no one really IS perfect.

GIBSON: Shit…it was nothing. And You’re doing a great job, by the way. Well, except for AJ Pierzynski.

GOD: I was drunk that day. My bad.

GIBSON: You’re a trip, Lord. Well, I gotta get back to Earth. David Wells and I are meeting up tonight to kill some shit. Now I’ve got Your word that this “end of the world” nonsense isn’t going to happen, right?

GOD: Indeed, my son. You have My word.

GIBSON: Cool. Take care, God.

GOD: You, too. Be blessed.

/Gibby leaves

GOD: Now, what? Hmm. Guess I’ll turn on the Tigers game. Oh, what in My name is Leyland doing? Batting Don Kelly sixth? Me dammit!