God steered the big old noisy beat up Ford pickup truck in a half circle and then backed it up in the clearing near where the fire pit and tents were set up.
Suddenly, 13 young boys wearing nothing but cut off jean shorts came running out of the woods like a pack of wild baboons.
“Dad!” yelled the one in front who was clearly the ringleader of the bunch. “Guys! He’s here, come on!!”
God smiled. Them young ones were a rowdy bunch, but his son and his best buddies were the forbidden apples of the old man’s eye.
They all congregated around the man climbing out of his truck.
“Did ya get ’em?!” his son asked.
God rumpled the kid’s long stringy hair.
All the other boys looked up at him eagerly, their faces filthy from playing in the forest.
“Of course I got ’em. I’m God, aren’t I?”
All the boys jumped up and down and cheered.
The crew walked to the back of the truck and God opened the tailgate.
Inside the truck was a mother lode of pyrotechnics that he had just purchased at the store next to the Kwik-Pak where he got his weekly case of Pabst Blue Ribbon.
“Wooooaaaahhhh,” all the boys said as the Creator of the Universe crawled up into the truck. He pulled his long grey hair into a ponytail then wrapped a threadbare bandana around his head. Then he began to unload the booty.
The boys crowded around buzzing with excitement. They watched the man set up all the explosives carefully. At one point, he looked up and smiled and said:
“This is gonna give them people on Earth quite the thunderboomer.”
“Yeh!!” the boys all agreed.
“Thanks, dad,” the ringleader boy said.
“Well, now…you’re welcome, Jesus,” the old man replied trying not to get misty. Then he advised all the younguns to get on out of the way.
And for the next several hours God set off all the fireworks much to his and the boys’ delight and to the dismay of thousands of children and dogs living in the Ohio Valley region.
When the big sound and light show slowed to an end, God passed out crackling Sparklers to the pack of wild hyena boys who ran like streaks of lightning through the field.
God opened a cold one and sat on the edge of the bed of his truck and watched with a gleam in his eye.
Suddenly the Goddess was by his side with a big picnic basket full of fixins to make S’mores. She put it down when God handed her a beer.
They watched the boys running and screaming with more energy than 10 super cell thunderstorms.
“Those boys are gonna crash and burn so damn hard,” she said.
Then she and God laughed before sucking down the rest of their brews on that Heavenly stormy night.