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Psycho Sermons:
TheWeirdcrap.com offers an outlet for Bel Garion. Which is good because it keeps him off the streets.

Friday, June 17, 2005

 

Conversations with... God?

by Garion Bel
Inspired for reasons unknown God has started speaking through me again, which is really freaking out the fuckers in the grocery store.

Garion: “What?”

God: “I’m fucking telling you that we can so make our own pizzas, one for me, one for you.”

Garion: “I CANNOT be eating for two all the time, don’t you have another saint on the planet somewhere?”

God: “Yes, but one can’t really eat pizza anymore, and the other is getting married so he’s trying to loose weight.” “You however have nether problem, so get the pizza stuff or I’m going to start driving.”

Garion: “All right, where is the fucking pineapple?”

God: “The canned pineapple is in isle 3, 2nd shelf from the bottom, 4’3” from the end cap near the front of the store.”
So I head in that direction, while my girlfriend follows slightly amused by the divine.

God: “I LIKE LETTUCE! I LIKE LETTUCE!”

Garion: “You scared my girlfriend away, again. Look that woman is looking at her in pity ‘cause YOU are fucking crazy.” “But what were you saying?” Something about eternal sin?”

God: “I LIKE LETTUCE! I LIKE LETTUCE! You’re right, I’ll stop.” “Yes eternal sin, like for example when you stop listening to me, God a.k.a. the voice in your head, you are cutting yourself off from your source of forgiveness.”
Garion: “Horseshit, you just like making my girlfriend cry.”

God: “I LIKE..”

Garion: “OK I FUCKING GET IT!” The manager of the store started looking at me funny.

God: “I’ll take care of this…”

Manager: “I’m sorry sir but the police have been called, and you will have to leave the store. And put the lettuce back.”

Garion: “What lettuce?” Then I realized that God had stuffed my shirt with several heads of lettuce when I wasn’t looking. “Shit.”

God: “What you mean to say is that you are an illegal immigrant from Romania and that by calling the police here you have risked exposing yourself. You also haven’t called your father in for fucking ever, but his prayers for your return are soon to be answered. Hallelujah!” The manager nervously moves off and we continue, while I empty my shirt.

Garion: “What did you just do? You lied to him about his family / nationality and he believed it!”

God: “When I said it, it became true…” “…by the way it’s also perfectly ok to say fuck now too.”

Garion: “Thanks.”

I finished my, err our, shopping, and headed to the register with out any further excitement. The cops did show up but they (sensing the divine?) didn’t think that taking me in was worth the “risk”. So I got to the checkout line without a problem, with them at a comfortable distance.

Pimpled fuck: “Paper or plastic?”

Garion: “Fucking paper, plastic is of the devil.”

Pimpled fuck: “Would you like cash back?”

Garion: “Yes, Cash fuck back.”

Pimpled fuck: silence

Garion: “Have a great fucking day. God bless.”

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