These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday. But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well. I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest. Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...
A short play…
God sits at his desk, a towering structure of brass and rich, rich mahogany, discussing the day’s agenda with his secretary, Flo.
Flo: … and lastly, St. Peter wants to install an intercom system at the Pearly Gates. He claims he can do his job letting people into Heaven or not just as well [consults her notes] "sitting in my sweet-ass hot tub with a couple of fine honeys and a sixer of Budweiser."
God: Table it. I’ll talk to him later. It is a pretty sweet hot tub, though.
Flo: I’m sure it is, Mr. G. Anything else?
God: Yeah, why have I had such an influx of prayers and credits coming from the Tampa, Florida area on Earth?
Flo: I believe it’s because the Republican National Convention is happening there next week, sir. You know how those Republicans like to claim that you guide them in all of their decision-making.
God: Ugh… I don’t have time to deal with that kind of mess in my inbox. It’s bad enough that Glenn Beck prays to me every time he’s trying to decide what to get at the McDonald’s drive-thru, now I’ve got a whole convention full of them to deal with? Who’s going to be there?
Flo: Let’s see… [looks at iPad] The usual suspects, I suppose. John Boehner…
Flo: Chris Christie…
Flo: Condoleeza Rice…
God: [makes growling cat noise]
Flo: Rick Santorum…
God: [shudders] Man, that guy gives me the creeps.
Flo: She’s not scheduled to appear, but I’m sure Sarah Palin will show up somehow.
God: Palin? They’re still keeping her around??
Flo: She’s quite popular in that group, Mr. G. She says she’s doing your will, that you called her.
God: Oh my Me, one time! ONE TIME I called her! And I told thou, it’s because I was drunk and Sixteen Candles was on TBS and I thought she might want to join me for a late showing. That doesn’t mean I’m her damned sponsor or anything. Remind me to carve a “Leave me alone, thou crazy broad” message into an Alaskan mountain soon.
Flo: Will do, sir.
God: All right, I can’t deal with this. It’s bad enough that now the Mormons are back in the mix with Romney leading the ticket, I don’t need some jackass mentioning me and rape-abortions, or whatever, in the same sentence. You know what? Schedule a hurricane to head towards Tampa, maybe that will make them scatter.
Flo: Are you sure, sir? Every time you do one of those, people get pretty upset.
God: Desperate times, Flo, my dear. Desperate times. Plus, I want to see if hurricane-level winds will make a dent in that sculpture that Romney calls a hairdo.
Flo: Very good, Mr. G.
God: Take the rest of the day off, Flo. I’m going to join St. Peter in that hot tub of his.