Today I woke up with an extra set of arms and a letter taped to my chest congratulating a Ms Shelly Neaderson for her lifetime of dedicated faith and boundless altruism. It was signed God. God has a surprisingly sloppy signature, like a coked-up five year old actually. Don't ask me how I know what that looks like.
Apparently Ms Neaderson had been praying for an extra set of arms, probably to help feed more homeless people at once or pray twice as hard for the plight of starving kids in Africa and China or some other goody two-shoes nonsense. Unfortunately for her not even the Celestial Post can be counted on to deliver consistently. I wonder if God tortures angels for this kind of screw-up, or if He turns them into self-hating minority Republicans. Hopefully he just lets them off with some light unspeakable torture and a stern talking-to.
I have to admit that at first I was bummed. The idea of spending the next week cutting arm-holes in all of my shirts and sewing sleeves back on to some
of them (it is almost summer after all, having four arms to show off might not be such a bad thing) didn't exactly sound like fun. Not to mention it'd be pretty hard to hide any future criminal activities from the law. Being built like a gimpy arachnid makes you kind of obvious in a police line-up. It was really bumming me out until I decided to start looking on the bright side of things, sure I might be a freakish god-mutant now, but just think of all the things I can do! I can bartend twice as fast, hand-stands are gonna be a breeze, I'll finally be able to defeat my arch-nemesis Jeff in ninjitsu knitting class, I can deliver the ultimate pimp-slap to hos who be dissin' on me (yo), and there won't be a butt in the world that's safe from my clever hands!
It was at this point that hideous melodramatic laughter welled up from the depths of my soul and sang it's clarion of evil across the land, at least until my downstairs neighbors began banging on their ceiling with a broom handle. At least I like to hope it's a broom handle, you can never tell with creepy hobbit-looking hippies who smoke so much they stink up the entire apartment block.
While I'm sure I'll eventually have a change of heart and find Ms Neaderson to give her her rightful arms, I'm having far too much fun abusing God's gifts right now.
I wonder what he'll screw up and send me next time!