On The Seventh Day He Rested.
On the eighth day he had a bath, because by this time he was beginning to smell a bit high. Then Thor came for a quick visit (or visitation, because Gods have to keep up appearences) to see if he wanted to go for a pint. God resisted the urge, because he was really cross about something. "I think I shall go and strike some people down" said God suddenly to Thor, and then went into the garden.
Mrs. God came to him and lo, she was a bit worried because God had been looking a bit off. "Who are you striking down now then?" she asked.
"The bloody physicists," replied God. "They are beginning to really get on my tits. You won't believe this, but I've been replaced by a gluon!"
"A what?" asked Mrs. God, now somewhat concerned that a gluon may not be as good company as an omnipotent deity. What if it didn't like her tea?
"I mean, it's a bit like giving the ship's cat credit for steering the ship isn't it? God, I'm really fed up with it all". "Yes I am," he quickly replied to himself to avoid any confusion. "With most of them bastards, if it doesn't smell, you can't hit it with a hammer and it can't give you a shock then it doesn't exist. Well, I'll give them a shock alright, see if I don't!"
"Come along, dear. Scientists are nice. I quite like that long haired one who sticks his tongue out a lot."
"Oh, go and make me some tea. Then I'm off down to the village."
"I'm sick of making tea all the time. Why can't I do some creating for a change?" moaned Mrs. God.
"What do you mean, 'you never get to do any creating'? I'm sick of your creating. You're always creating about something. If it isn't the fence then it's something else."
"Yes, and that fence still isn't fixed. I've snagged my tights on it again today." replied Mrs. God, heading for the kitchen.
"Bloody women." God bespake to all of his creation.
Thor then went off to the pub because he hadn't had anything to say for the past five minutes and wanted to get insanely drunk.
"Wait a minute", called God. "I'm coming with you."
In the pub...
"I spy with my little eye..." said God.
"Oh, no. Here we go again" said the multitude there present.
"...something beginning with I."
"erm..." said the multitude.
"It wouldn't happen to be The Bible, would it?" enquired Thor.
"Oh, alright then. It's the Bible. Bloody Scandinavians. How did you guess that, anyway?"
"Oh, come on. You ALWAYS do that. I think someone should tell you that just because the first line of the said historic text is 'In the beginning was the word', it doesn't necessarily mean the Bible begins with an I. We only go along with it to humour you," enlightened Thor, lifting up his hammer and smiting some innocent passers by, scoring ten easy points in the process.
"Well it begins with an 'I' now. I've just decided that from now on It's going to be called the Ible."
"You can't do that!" exclaimed Thor.
"Yes I can. That's omnipotence for you. Your turn," commanded God.
" ," ignored Thor.
"Right," said God. "I'll have your go then. I spy with my little eye..." he looked around the room briefly just to confuse and amuse. "...something beginning..." he continued, successfully ignoring all of the comments that he should 'get on with it' "...with..." he paused unnecessarily once again just to annoy everyone before finally concluding with "... I."
"Fucking Hell, God. What is up with you today? You've done that one already!" swore Thor. Cor!
"Do you question the wisdom of the Father?"
"No," replied Thor. "Just the ability of the universe's Big Daddy to come up with a few new ideas now and then."
"Oh, yes?" questioned God. "If I'm the unimaginative one and you are oh-so bloody clever, tell me this - exactly how many species of ant are there?"
"Well, thousands. But..."
"And who was it who had to think of them all? Ethel Merman? Bobby the Brentwood Bull Buggerer? No, it damn well wasn't! It was Me!! That's who it was!!! Bloody Me!!!!"
"Well, they all look the same to me..."
"Well, it's just lucky that you're the God of Thunder and not the God of Being-Able-to-Tell- Different-Species-of-Ant-Apart then isn't it?" explained God. "Anyway, it wasn't the Ible. Guess again, blondiebox."
"Uh, uh." smugged God.
"You, know. The decapitated robot out of 'Alien', later to play Pod in the award-winning BBC TV production of 'The Borrowers'..."
"No point in getting smart. Anyway, it's not him."
"'Izzy wizzy lets get busy', the sacred intonations of Sooty?"
"No no no."
"Oh, good. Well, the answer is... ME."
"What? 'God' doesn't begin with 'I'."
"No, but 'Jehovah' does."
"No it doesn't."
"It does in Greek."
"You bastard," sussed Thor. "You've been watching 'Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade' again. Damn."
"I watch everything," said God, in a very all-seeing manner.
Suddenly Buddha appeared and everyone gaped. "Well Hi, fatty," said a minor deity from the Babylonian mythos whose name no one could quite pronounce. "We don't often see you in here. Decided that you are a God after all, eh?"
"No, I'm still merely an attainment of humanity." answered Buddha. "Can anyone spare a packet of crisps?".
"I thought you were supposed to be on a diet", moaned God, handing Buddha a bag of sacred bacon flavour.
"Guess who I've just bumped into outside?" reported Buddha, dodging the childish sizist jibe expertly.
"I dunno. Enlighten us," quipped Thor.
"Har har har" har'd everyone but Buddha.
"It's Allah. I think he's on his way."
And, behold! Everyone in the pub was rushing around hiding their pints and stuffing bags of pork scratchings under their tables out of sight.
"Greetings friends," intoned Allah, adding "And don't think for a minute that I didn't see that," just in case. "Today I would like to read out to you: my Will".
"Odin's dinner," damned Thor. "Not again."
"I, Allah, true God and all seeing lord..." he looked around the room through narrow slits daring anyone to argue. Seeing no one moving, he continued, "...being of sound mind -" then he STOPPED!!!! SOMEONE was SNIGGERING. His eyes started shooting about like an unfed rottweiler in a roomful of tasty-looking cats smeared in Pedigree Chum. "Come on, who is laughing? Is someone laughing? What's so funny? I don't see anything remotely funny about my being of sound mind. Do you? I know I don't. Just ask my plastic dolphin. Incidentally, while I'm here, may I just say that I think it reasonable that Salman Rushdie must die horribly with spikey things prodded into him in a yukky manner never before seen since Richard III. Furthermore, I think all women should wear coal-sacks over their heads. Who needs beachwear? Just wear the Empire State Building. Esparanto? No problema. Just fuck the horse's goat bottom. Any old oil, any old oil, any-any-any old oil. Where are those cod's livers, you land-lubbers? And, what's more... ... ...Where's everybody gone?"
"Ho, ho, ho. I would have loved to see his face when he looked up and found out we'd all buggered off" intoned Thor. "What are we going to do for the rest of the afternoon?"
"Well," said God, thinking. "Since it is the eighth day and the twelfth pint of very strong cider, why don't we go and kill those physicists after all."
"Good idea. I haven't had a rumble for some time" agreed Thor. "I still haven't forgiven them for the first law of thermodynamics. Heat and work being always interchangeable. Bastards. I'd like to see a three-bar electric fire make the earth crack open. You don't see toasters fighting against my twat of a brother do you?"
"On second thoughts, I think I will go and have another rest. Blame it on the third law of thermodynamics if you like." added God, collapsing on the floor in a drunken stupor.
"Shit," bespake Thor. "Joule has a lot to answer for."
And Lo, it was written that there is indeed a limited amount of energy available within any substance, and it does reduce when the substance becomes so pissed he is out cold on the floor.