Staggering out of His celestial bed with bloodshot eyes, a miserably hungover God couldn’t remember where He parked the Universe last night.
“Damn, that party was off the hook,” recalled the Almighty as he popped three asteroid-sized ibuprofen. “How the Hell did we even get back to Heaven?”
While He was able to retrace His steps from happy hour at Sully’s to two-for-one margaritas at Tacos Locos, He said it “all becomes a blur” after that.
“That dude is crazy,” said friend Peter in hush tones so that the Lord would not overhear and smite him. “He blew, like, a galaxy’s worth of stardust off an angel’s wings and then drove to Krysti’s party.”
“Typical God,” added wingman Michael with disapproval.
Friends say God has been living the partying lifestyle too much lately. Just last weekend, they say, he consumed three solar systems in a blackout rage and drunk sexted multiple ex-girlfriends.
God, on the other hand, said he has no plans to slow down his bacchanalian ways, and is not even too concerned about finding the Universe.
“I’m riding this booze train straight to Apocalypse-town. Gimme another shot,” said the All-Knowing Father. “The Universe will be okay on its own for a while.”