Consultation 114.

“God, how do I ask God, a question?”

I blinked unable to comprehend the deeper meaning behind the question.

“Sorry, what?”

“How do I ask God, a question?”

“Are you not asking me a question right now?”

“I am?”

“Yeah, and you just asked me another question.”

“I don’t understand. I did no such thing.”

“What the hell do you mean you don’t understand? You’re talking to God right now and you just asked me how you can ask me a question which was a question. Does it look like I have dementia to you?”

“But that was not the question I want to ask God.”

“Then what the hell was the question you wanted to ask me?”

“How do I ask God, a question?”

“Ask me the question.”

“How do I ask God, a question?”

“BY ASKING ME THE FUCKING QUESTION!” I’m going to lose my shit at this rate.

“How do I ask-”

“What is the question you want to ask God!”

“I think there’s some sort of language barrier, God. It seems like you’re not understanding the question.”

I started hyperventilating, ready to have a nervous breakdown. 

Me not understanding? No, you!

“I’ll say it more slowly so you might be able to comprehend with that small brain of yours, God.”

Small brain… small brain she says?

“How do I ask God… a question?”

What the hell was with that pause? Wait… a question? There was always a short pause before she said that.

No… it’s not that. There’s no way it’s that...

“Uh… why don’t you just say, ‘A question?’”

“A question?”

“Yeah.”

“A question. Oh! That’s it! Genius! Why I no think that sooner? God much smart. Very wow.”

What? No, wait. What! The fuck is this supposed to mean?

“Are you just some bored troll with too much money and nothing better to do with your time?”

“Oh? You figured me out?”

“Get the fuck out of my office… now!”

“Hahaha! I’ll see you again, God.”

“Don’t ever come back.”

A fucking troll, it’d been a while since I last had a troll.

At least it wasn’t one of those ‘God, is your refrigerator running?’ pricks again. I’ve long lost track of how many times I’ve heard that stupid question.

On her way out the door, she looked back at me with a stupid smug grin and asked, “God, is your refrigerator running?”

I stood up, picked up the table, and threw it at the door with all my strength in a fit of rage.

GOD DAMN IT! So she was one of the stupid mortals in that group dedicated to asking me that stupid fucking question!

It was only after she was gone that I figured it out. The question she wanted to find out how to ask me was ‘Is your refrigerator running?’ It had nothing to do with the pause in her question. What the fuck! How did I not catch on sooner?

I turned around and repeatedly banged my head against the wall frustrated that I’d fallen for it again.

They themselves know it’s not even a funny question, they just ask it because they know it drives me crazy.