Heavenly Rear-End Rumble
The sun had set, and the traffic was at a standstill. Jim McAllister was on his way home from a particularly trying day at work, the kind that makes you wonder if the universe is conspiring against you. As he glanced at the ever-present gridlock on the highway, he never expected what was about to happen.
In the car ahead of him, brake lights suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree, and Jim, reacting a split second too late, found himself in a most unfortunate situation. With a loud, nerve-rattling crunch, he rear-ended the car in front of him.
Jim cursed under his breath and pulled over to the side of the road, waiting for the other driver to emerge. After what felt like an eternity, the car's door creaked open, and out stepped a figure dressed in a plain white robe. Jim blinked in disbelief as he realized who stood before him.
God Almighty himself.
“Ah, shoot,” Jim muttered. “I thought I'd have to wait till I died to meet you.”
God sighed and looked at the dented bumper of his celestial vehicle. “I really liked this car. It had a lot of sentimental value.”
Jim tried to hold back a chuckle. “So, what's your plan, big guy? Are you going to forgive me for this minor celestial fender bender, or are we going to have to part the Red Sea to sort this out?”
God raised an eyebrow. “I'm a patient deity, but this is a bit much.”
Jim shrugged. “Let's not forget, we were both in a traffic jam. You could have used your divine powers to float above it, but you didn't. That makes you equally responsible for this mess.”
God crossed his arms, his divine brow furrowed. “I suppose you have a point. But I am God, after all. My responsibilities are a tad more significant than your daily commute.”
Jim grinned, feeling a surge of confidence. “Look, I'll make a deal with you, big guy. I'll pay for the damages to your chariot, and in return, you have to promise to make traffic jams disappear worldwide.”
God chuckled. “That's a tall order.”
Jim wasn't finished. “Or how about this? You help me with my work problems, and I'll promise to go to church every Sunday for the rest of my life. Deal?”
God scratched his chin, pondering Jim's offer. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. McAllister.”
Jim extended a hand. “It's a deal, then?”
God shook his hand and smiled. “Agreed. Let's fix this car and the world together.”