This morning, I was awoken by the voice of God.
“Neil, it is Mother’s Day. Did you call your mother?”
“Nah. What for? It’s a dumb holiday. I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“But Neil, you must congratulate her. It is your duty. After all, you have the best mother that I have ever created.”
“C’mon, God. Let’s not go overboard. Sure, she’s nice and funny, but there are billions of mothers out there. How can you really say that she is the “best?” Her cooking is pretty bad. And she refuses to watch the last ten minutes of the American Idol elimination night because it makes her “too nervous.” That’s just weird.”
“I am the God of your Forefathers. Of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. When I say that she is the best mother, I mean it. I do not lie or do punk’d pranks like that crazy Kabbalah guy, Ashton Kutcher. I speak the truth.”
“OK, bigshot. Give me a sign. A miracle. Something that proves that you truly are all powerful. Like a burning bush.”
“What are you crazy? In Southern California. One burning bush will cause a whole forest fire! Can’t you come up with something a little bit less drama-queenish?”
“Hmmm… Ok, here’s a challenge that is pretty impossible, even for you — let me see Julie Andrews, the biggest shiksa in the world, sing a song in Yiddish. Only that will prove to me YOUR TRUE POWER!”
“I am the Lord, the One, and I shall produce this miracle! Get ready to call your mother.”
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!