“Hey,” was the first word God said.  It was a bit underwhelming after such a long silence, but He wanted to keep things light and casual.  He decided to kick off His return with a tour of some modest venues across America.  He was speaking now to a group at a soup kitchen in Minneapolis.  Tomorrow He was set to address a homeless shelter in Cincinnati and the day after that Cub Scout Pack 144 in Denver.  Pastor Ron, an honest, if somewhat overzealous priest that God’s posse found in Silver Spring, Maryland, introduced the Lord and gave a small speech before calling Him to the podium.

“The Master of the Universe has returned to Earth.  He will take questions after His speech, but please refrain from any inquiries about where He’s been, what He’s been up to, what His plans for humanity currently are, what the meaning of human existence is, or why bad things happen to good people.  Thank you.”

Then the Lord stepped to the mic.  He started with what would become his infamous and often quoted opening line, “Hey.”  In conjuncture with popular Western culture, God had decided to appear in a human guise that fit expectations.  He looked elderly, male and Caucasian, with flowing white hair, beard, and robes.  He sported Teva hiking sandals on his bare feet.

“Is this thing on?” He joked in reference to the microphone.  Someone in the back row of metal folding chairs coughed.  “But seriously, it’s good to be back,” God continued, a little hesitantly for a deity.  “It’s true, though.  Here I am.  Those skeptics with their satirical Invisible Pink Unicorn idol can lay off on My more staunch supporters now.  I suppose this must be a little embarrassing for all of the atheists out there who were so certain I was a hoax.  Well, joke’s on you, I guess.  Ha ha…  Um, also, I don’t want to discredit the Hindus, all 1.2 billion of them.  To be honest, My presence doesn’t negate the possibility of Shiva or Ganesha (am I saying that name right?) or all those other folks.  They might be out there somewhere, too.  Have I ever bumped into them at a mixer?  No.  But could they be out there?  Sure, I suppose.”

News quickly spread of the Lord’s return.  He switched to bigger venues, selling out whole stadiums, speaking about whatever came to mind.

“It’s been too long.  I love you guys.  Humans are one of My favorite creations.  You can get out of hand sometimes, but you’ve got a lot of spunk and personality.  I like that.  You’re not boring like the dodos.  They had to go.

“I looked at my watch one day and I was like, ‘Boy, it’s been a while since I checked in with Earth.  I should really see how they’re handling things.’  And after I received updates from some of My correspondent angels, I was like, ‘Oh, I guess not very well.’  But really, it’s nice to see you all again.  You look good.”

After the opening tour, God took to television and radio, giving interviews and spreading His Word across as many mediums as possible.  He was even asked to host on Saturday Night Live, a huge honor for Him.  Apparently He was a big fan ever since the show first began.

“I won’t say anything about My bigger vision, but let’s just say that Belushi and Farley’s early retirements were never part of My plan,” he said during the monologue.

Hollywood executives caught wind of the ratings explosion from that single SNL episode and offered the Lord a leading role on a new sitcom with Michael Keaton and the guy from B.J. and the Bear.

“I think people are really enjoying seeing this lighter side of You,” His publicist angel told him.  “You’re not just the ‘fire and brimstone, pray and be obedient, this life is harder than the next’ guy.  You’re fun and contemporary.  I say go for the TV show.  You’ll be great.  How could You not be?  There’s no way this could be a bad idea.”

God accepted the role and moved into a faux Greco mansion in Beverley Hills.  He mingled at the local hot spots all through the night and slept well into the afternoon.  Newspapers began printing less favorable articles about Him.

“Godliness Is Next to Idleness?” one headline read.

“Isn’t He supposed to be doing something?” one editor wrote.  “Why did he come here, if he doesn’t plan on fixing things?”
“He’s about as useful as He was absent,” another wrote.

One afternoon, as God was sleeping on the couch, His bed taken up with girls and strangers, someone rang the doorbell.  Groggily, He roused Himself and answered the door.  A small girl in a pretty Sunday dress was standing on the doorstep, her mother a few feet behind her.

“’Scuse me, sir,” she said in a shy whisper.  “I wanted to ask you something.”

She turned back to look at her mother, who nodded in support.

“Um, I was just wondering,” the girl pressed on, “If you’re God, why aren’t you helping the world?  Or answering any questions about…” she tried to remember what questions to bring up.

“Questions about where you’ve been for so long, why you didn’t stop atrocities from happening, what it is we were put on this planet for,” the mother jumped in.

“Look, Mrs. Palter, and yes I know your name.  I know everything, right?  Look, I didn’t come here to fix your messes.  This is no longer the age of deus ex machina, of pillars of fire and splitting seas.  Humanity is like a child of Mine that has graduated from grad school and needs to figure out their own life now.  I’m just here on vacation, so to speak, to see how My recent grad is coping with the adult world.  I can offer an encouraging word, but I’m not going to pay off student loans and tell them how to live their life.”

The mom looked surprised and then just sad, like it was the day after her birthday and she realized it would be a whole year before her birthday arrived again.

“But we’ve spent thousands of years trying to live our lives like we thought You’d want us to live them,” she finally said.  “If You don’t have an opinion one way or the other on the ‘right’ way to live, or won’t make that opinion known to us, then what are we supposed to do?”

“I’m sorry,” the King of Kings said.  “You have to learn that on your own.  I came to Earth, which proved My existence, but I won’t hand out complete objectivity.  There’s power in unique perspectives.  It’s part of why your species has come so far.  Sure, you’ve made some pretty awful mistakes along the way, but like any parent, I’m proud of you all.

“Now please go away,” He said, “I have yet to get used to hangovers.  How do you manage the pain in these tiny human skulls?  I feel like someone filled my brain cavity with liquid and then kicked me in the forehead.  God…”

Then he slammed the front door.

When the Lord’s sitcom was cancelled, His publicist angel suggested a spin-off show and maybe a book tour.

“Wouldn’t I need to write a book first before I could have a book tour?” He wondered.

“My Lord, you already wrote the best selling book of all time,” the angel said.

“I did?”

“Yes, sir, a little book called the Bible.”

“Oh, well, I hardly had a hand in that.  Most of it was ghost written hundreds of years after the fact.  I’m glad to see it’s still very popular, though.”

“Well, if You don’t feel comfortable pushing the Bible at the moment, I’d still strongly suggest a spin-off to your show,” the angel curved his teeth like a smile.

“I’m not sure that’s such a hot idea.  I’m already very well known.  I think the people are getting tired of a celebrity god.”

“You’re of course right, my Lord.  How about something more personal then, like a housewarming party complete with karaoke and barbecue?  Invite everyone over and get to know them a little better.”

“Ooh, I like that,” said the Supreme Shepherd.  “Let’s do that!”

The date was set and invitations sent out to everyone.  And as it turned out, thousands upon thousands showed up in Beverly Hills on the afternoon of the party.  There was enough beer and alcohol to make the entire global rhino population extinct (if the rhinoceroses were able to attend and drink all of it).

There were fireworks and sparklers, five live bands, a water park, flag football, and more hors d’oeuvres than there were stars in the sky or grains of sand on the beach.  As the sun set and the hotdogs and burgers were taken out of the freezer, the Almighty operating the grill in an apron emblazoned with the words ‘Big Daddy,’ people, feeling at last satisfied with their merciful and pretty awesome savior, began to chant, “Speech, speech, speech.”

“Oh, thank you.  I’ve missed the spotlight,” God began.  He held up a beer.  “Cheers, everyone!”

The crowd went wild at that.

“I thought it prudent to throw a housewarming party because this is my new home.  And I don’t just mean this lovely, faux Greco mansion in Beverly Hills, but planet Earth.  This time I think I’m really here to stay.  I love you guys unconditionally and I don’t ever want to leave.  You’re all my kind of people.”

“Well, why did you leave last time?” someone called out during a pause in the Lord’s speech.

A general murmur of consent rippled through the vast gathering.

“Oh,” God said, looking around for His publicist or Pastor Ron.  “Well, it’s complicated.  I don’t really want to get into it.”

Someone ran up and stole the microphone.

“You always say that!  What’s the point of Your second coming if You never enlighten us with Your answers, Puss?  Am I right, people? Yeah!  West Valley High rules!”

God grabbed the mic back.

“Remind Me to smite that guy, right?  Ha.”

No one laughed with the Lord.

“Really, Puss,” someone else shouted.  “Why don’t you give us some answers?  Stop dodging all the questions.”

“Yeah!” someone else screamed.

“Free Tibet!” a third shouted.

Starting from nowhere and everywhere at once, a chant began, quietly and then louder and louder.

“Puss.  Puss.  Puss!  Puss!  PUSS! PUSS! PUSS!”

“Humans,” the Lord cried, “Remember who you are talking to!  I am the Holy Father!”

“Why’d you let so many bad things happen to us then?”

“Why, Puss?  Why, Puss?  Why, Puss!?! WHY, PUSS!?!”

“You’re a disgrace to your followers!  You’re a blasphemous imitation of the true Lord!” a nun shouted from the second story window of God’s house.

The people jeered the Creator.

“SILENCE!”  boomed God, His voice suddenly cutting through all of the noise.  The microphone and connecting speakers blew out with a tremendous bang.

“I am the Lord, your God, Master of all the Universe!  Perhaps I’ve come to you in a form that was a little too contemporary and a little too much fun, if that’s even possible, but I am still who I am.  And stop calling me ‘puss.’  Who uses that word?

“Do you really want to know why bad things happen to good people?  Fine, I’ll give you a little bit of holy knowledge.  The truth is I don’t know.  It’s not like I have some sick, twisted plan to screw over the good people.  It’s just, as your delightful idiom goes, ‘Shit Happens.’  I’m not watching over you nearly as much as you think, I guess.  And that’s my fault.  But I mean come on, people.  Grow up!  It shouldn’t be that every time I turn my back, genocide happens.  You are all to blame for that kind of behavior.  And the destruction of the planet?  I’m the Creator.  But I’m not also the Constant Care-Taker.  You need to get your act together and learn how to take care of yourselves.  The truth is that I’m not nearly as hands on as I’m portrayed in literature and holy texts.  I’m not a part of everything all the time.  I can remove myself when I want to.  Like right now.  Forget what I said earlier, I’m leaving.  I’ll try again next millennium.”

With that, God stormed into his mansion and began packing.  Suddenly a lawn chair came crashing through his bedroom window.  A football and an amplifier crashing through the front picture window followed.  The Lord could hear people raiding the downstairs, destroying things and bellowing with a disappointed rage.  They didn’t like feeling duped.  The answers they had received weren’t satisfying enough.

Someone chucked the grill into the living room where it ignited the drapes.  Once the fire was blazing, everyone ran out of the house, but not before someone bashed in a support pillar in the kitchen.  As the house weakened in the flame, the rooms above the kitchen collapsed in on themselves and that whole side of the house fell apart.

As the destruction reached His bedroom, God grabbed a Michael Keaton autographed prop from their failed sitcom and leapt down into the front yard.  He brushed off soot from his flowing robes and looked about him at His creations.  Each face He saw was red and scrunched like a baboon’s behind.  The people snarled at him, slowly creeping closer.  Some were brandishing croquet mallets or lawn ornaments.

“You don’t even look like humans anymore,” was the last thing the Lord said, his voice transmitting only disenchantment.

Then His correspondent, publicist, and steward angels all gathered around Him and together they gracefully floated up into the sky in a pinwheel formation.  As they rose higher and higher, they began to gather streams of light around their circle.  The strands wove together to form a larger beam, a pillar of light leading up into the stars.  The group ascended quickly and soon they disappeared in the beam.  Then the pillar disappeared with a roar.  Then all was quiet.

The crowd quickly dissipated, heading back to their respective homes.  Some looked like they had just woken up, while others appeared sad, and still others seemed surprised, as if it was only at that moment that they realized who had come to visit.

And the religious people breathed a collective sigh of relief.  They could forget this ever happened and return to worshipping the immaculate figure that appeared in their texts.  The one, true lord.