“Hey Macey, when people start writing books about my achievements and singing songs in my name, could you tell them I built the earth in seven days? Because this shit’s embarrassing.”
God stared around at the jumble of pieces strewn at his feet. He wondered if the one page of picture instructions he had received with all the parts would be more understandable if he flipped it upside down. So he tried. Sure enough, he seemed to understand more, so he hammered a couple of nails here and there. His tongue poked out of his mouth as he worked.
Before he could make much headway, he tripped over one of the rock pieces and fell headlong into a bag of dirt. “Ack!” He said, doubling up in pain. “Fuck it. Macey, call one of the guys in. I can’t do this anymore.”
“Yes sir.” She said.
God sat down on one of his armchairs, leaning back into the grooves he had made over the many centuries that had passed. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
“Mr. God? Sir?” A voice called him from his sweet slumber.
“Hmm?” He asked, his eyes still closed.
“John finished constructing earth, sir.”
“What!? Already!?” He leapt out of his chair and rushed to the other side of the room.
There it was. He stared up at it and reached out a hand to test the waters. Cold. Must be near the UK, he thought.
“Hmm… looks like he put some carnivorous creatures in with the herbivores… he always was a bit of a psychopath.” God said.
“Should I call him back in, Mr. God, sir?”
“No no, don’t bother. This’ll do. Move Adam and Eve in, would you? Now if you don’t mind…” God trailed off, already heading back to his armchair.