Friday, January 21, 2011
Gabriel sat with God in the waiting room of the family doctor. Things had gotten weird the past few weeks. First, God had taken up calling Gabriel, 'Gabe' like he was a bro or something. This was most noticeable to Gabriel but others had pointed out new oddities God had taken up. God was currently flipping through a People magazine and retweeting all of Kanye's tweets because none of God's followers followed Kanye too. God circa three months ago would have never done this. Gabriel wasn't even sure if God had a twitter account before then. "He's so witty," God muttered to no one in particular. Maybe to his followers, if they could hear him. Looking back, the first signal that something was seriously wrong with God occurred out in the fields of clouds when God was visiting one who had gotten past the pearly gates.
Steve McQueen revved his bike through the clouds. He had been at it for 3 weeks straight, driving around on this piece of cirrus. A white bearded man in a white bespoke suit waved at him from a ways away. Steve drove over and cut the engine. God smiled as Steve looked at him from his bike. "Hey Steve. What's up?" God grinned. Gabriel stood behind God looking confused and holding a vintage rucksack with a MacBook in it. "I was wondering if I could talk to you, just for a bit," God wore a grin that would shame a cartoon cat. "Is this about the noise? God, I told those people that if they wanted me to, I'd ride on the next cloud over," Steve stammered nervously.
"No, no, no, actually, I was wondering if I could get an interview."
"An interview. Y'know, about the Barbour coats."
God looked at Steve's white racing jacket and muttered under his breath, "crispy, is that a collab?..." Then he looked up and exclaimed, "oh, well you don't know then, do you? I had assumed you had gotten the press release, but I guess they only sent that to bloggers. Well, your kid licensed your name for a Barbour coat line. They've even put your face in the lining of some of the coats." God whipped out his Mac and showed off the pictures. Steve wasn't sure what to make of this. He was dead, who cared? "Well, I mean, he own's the na-" Steve was abruptly cutoff as God's Mac made a chirping noise and God erupted into obnoxious laughter. "Gabe, Gabe, you gotta' see this video. HARHARHARHAR! Oh man, that's just outrageous!" Gabe smiled awkwardly, not really sure what God was laughing at. "Oh man, oh man, I gotta' email this to Steezus! HAHAHAHA!"
"Who?" asked Steve and Gabriel in unison.
"Y'know, Steezus. Steezus Christ."
"You mean Jesus, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure, Steezus, Jesus, same thing..."
"Well," Steve started, wanting this interview to end immediately, "he's my kid, and I guess he can do what he wants."
God grinned at Steve, showing off his pearly whites, and said, "Good, good, I'll post that right away. Hopefully I beat everyone to the punch."
God walked away with the computer open, posting the interview to his wordpress and tumblr, absorbing images from a new Vatican and Filson collaboration, and asking Gabriel his credit card number so he could order something from Unionmade.
The doctor looked up from his paperwork that he was filling out and asked Gabriel if he would like to step outside to talk. Gabriel obliged, leaving God to fiddle with the pockets on his sportcoat he forgot to cut open. "It's not good, " the doctor said in a hushed tone, "there are no meds out yet for this, but there are a couple things you can do that would help."
"What has he got, doc?" Gabe - I mean Gabriel - asked.
"OBF, and it's bad."
"Obnoxious blogger fuck"
"Is it curable?"
"No, but here's what you can do. First, empty his checking account, if he doesn't have any money to blow on stuff he won't be able to talk about it on the internet. Second, tell his friends to not @GOD on his twitter. It just feeds his ego. Third, tell him he looks metrosexual every day, three times a day. God willing-" the doc paused to snicker at his own wittiness, "we should be able to keep OBF at bay for the next few years, at least until we find meds that work."
"Thanks doc," as Gabriel gathered himself and prepared for the trial that the next months would bring.
God, sitting in the examination table, thought about how the whiskers were coming in nicely on his raw denim, unaware of the changes that would be coming.