Claire Rogers loves brunch. She loves being presented with a menu that allows her to order scrambled eggs and hash browns with her cheeseburger and mimosa. God loves brunch, too, but only because of the bottomless mimosas. She rarely drinks anymore, so when the opportunity arises to share a pitcher of champagne and orange juice, She jumps at it. (1)
"I think Lucy's up to something," She says from behind oversized sunglasses. Claire can't tell what She's looking at, but she's pretty sure it isn't her.
"I'm not sure that's an unreasonable suspicion," Claire says. "He is the Devil, after all..."
God frowns...and car alarms go off all across town. "Perhaps I should have clarified - something more devious than his usual bit of mischief."
She shrugs. A gaggle of college boys pass their table at the sidewalk cafe and three of them stumble over each other as they ogle God's ample bosom, beautifully on display in Her gold and ivory sundress. God lowers Her sunglasses and glares at them with an expression meant to literally put the fear of Her into them.
Claire watches the familiar display with bored eyes, glances down at her own ample bosom on beautiful display. She's more than used to being ignored while in God's company; if anything, she's come to find the invisibility comforting.
"What's Lucy done this time?" she asks, sipping her coffee.
"He borrowed a library book with that temporary card you gave him," She says, replacing Her sunglasses.
Claire eyes her Holy Boss. "Well, then, we should string him up by his horns. How dare he borrow a book...from a library...that he belongs to..."
God once again lowers the sunglasses, appraises Her favorite prophet with cool green and humorless eyes. "Are you quite finished?" She asks.
"Just one more."
"If you must."
"Did he forget to return said book, the rule-breaking, magenta-colored fancy boy that he is?"
That gets God to smile. "I'm being ridiculous," She says with a laugh.
Claire grins, shakes her head. "You're being cautious; there's a difference."
"Maybe he was just looking for something new to read..."
Claire snorts. "Hell no," she says. "The sonovabitch is definitely up to something."
God's expression shows open surprise. "But you just said..."
"I know what I just said. Since when do You listen to a damn thing I say?"
God smiles warmly and the Indian summer sunshine brightens. "I always listen to you, Claire. Even when you think I'm not listening, I still hear you."
Claire looks at Her, catching the subtext and not feeling very comfortable with it. "Does that include..." (2)
"Mm-hmm," She says, taking a long sip of Her mimosa.
"So I probably shouldn't..."
"Best not. Best to keep My name out of it whenever possible." She winks with overdramatic flair, for salacious emphasis. "He seemed like a nice fellow, though, so you're certainly welcome for it."
Claire's cheeks flush red with embarrassment. "Oh sweet Jesus..." she mutters.
"Now, My brother, he's quite oblivious, so feel free to use his name whenever it suits you." God picks up the now-empty pitcher and waves it at the waiter. She turns a vibrant and mischievous smile on Claire. "More mimosas!"
(1) Well, at least She doesn't drink as much anymore. Not since that time...with the mead...and the Devil...She doesn't like to talk about it, though. Poor decisions will get You a lifetime of hangovers and the Earth.
(2) Of course it does. She's everywhere most of the time, which means She hears Her name when you use it. No matter WHERE you use it. Consider that the next time you start yelling Her name at the top of your lungs...