One day when I was doing 95mph down the Turnpike in my Ford Festiva, while chain smoking, masturbaiting and drinking a 5th of Jack Daniels, all at the same time, I had a vision, but not in the classical sense of the word. Some kind of creature with flight, that had to be enormous, suddenly decided to relieve itself miles above my car. As I reached for my windshield wipers, I looked up at the gigantic mess and in it I saw the face of God, and he spoke to me.
"Joseph," he said in a voice that kind of sounded like Jim Varney on Nitrous Oxide.
"I am God and i have a message for you."
"Um...my name's not Joseph."
"Yes it is, I've been planning this for centuries. You are to be my messenger and help me save people's souls from the firey depths of hell."
"Gee God, sounds good and all but I'm not Joseph. My name's Bill."
"Can I call you Joseph?"
"No."
"Fine. Bill it is then. Where are you going...Bill?"
"Well, I'm on the way to see my boyfriend."
"I don't understand. How can you have a boyfriend?"
"I'm gay."
"WHAT?!? Um...well...it IS the 21st century, and alternative lifestyles are the 'in' thing now. Well, I can live with it if you can. So how about it."
"How about what?"
"Helping me out."
"No way. I'm getting laid."
"PREMARITAL SEX?!? WITH A MAN?!? Then again, we have that problem with the priests and such. I forgive you Jo...I mean Bill. C'mon, help me out. I can't do this myself."
Mind you...
My cock's in one hand, bottle of whiskey in the other and 2 cigs hangin out of my mouth.
"Sorry God," I replied, "Just not interested."
"You know i could smite you in a second."
"Yeah but remember 'Thou shall not kill'?"
"No."
"But you wrote it!"
"Yeah, but it's number 7. It's not even in the top 5, so it really doesn't count."
"Look God, I'm not interested. Maybe another time."
"You ungrateful prick! Some people would kill millions just to speak with me once. Fine. Have it your way. Oh, by the way, look out for that truck."
Even as the firemen were cutting off chunks of my car to free me from the wreckage, I wasn't embarassed that my dick was in my hand or that even my bottle of whiskey was only half finished. I was more embarassed when the police asked me what happened and I said I was talking to God. So they arrested me for indecent exposure.
NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Ford Festivas cannot go 95 mph.