Message to the Deity

if there is one, with apologies from an agnostic

orange sofawith 2 dogs on it

I went to bed differently last night. I took the back cushions off the sofa where I sleep with my dogs which made it two inches wider. Comfy then, one dog on my feet, another by my side, all was better than well until I began to itch. First my arm. Then my back. Then both feet. My head, my right ear, my arm again. I thought of bedbugs, fleas, even carpet beetles, I thought of those flies who put their eggs in you, and the larva crawl out, or maybe they aren’t flies but something worse. I hate flies. The blue garbage ones, sometimes green too, are kind of amazing but after all is said and done, they are still flies. I know you made them, I just don’t know why. The itching continued forever as best I remember. I don’t have bedbugs, the dogs have flea collars, there are no flies, maybe since I forgot to take off my bra that’s what’s itching my back. Finally I fell asleep. When I woke up I wasn’t itching. Now it’s tomorrow night, and I’m almost afraid to go to bed. I have restless leg just sitting here, and what if I start itching again? What is the cause (almost wrote curse) when there is no cause? Please god, if you exist and really can listen to everyone, even people like me, an eighty-three year old woman who is only itchy, not being shot or raped or burned or losing my children to starvation or bullets, I’m not one of those who doesn’t have AIDS yet, but won’t be getting the medicine anymore to keep me safe, or part of the milloins who will die of starvation and disease if Muskrat has his way, and even the people who voted for the orange one last November, a sorry lot, I almost feel pity for the rude awakening they have in store, even they will be worse off than I am, lying here on an orange sofa with my two dogs, because my death can’t be far off to get me out of here and ignorant of what will be happening in the end of times. But I am leaving behind four children, 12 grandchildren, two great-grandchildren, two sisters, their children, and two dogs. Friends I love. My fear for them has turned to a vile hatred for those responsible, including you, if you even exist. God? Do you hear me? I know you’re not busy because look at the world, what is happening down here. The wicked are responsible for making it worse. Shouldn’t this be part of your job? Surely you know who they are. I don’t know what or even if you exist, so I’m going to make you up. Maybe you’ve been busy cutting your toenails, if you have them. Maybe not. They are probably miles long and curly after all these centuries. Ditto your fingernails. And you can’t cut your toenails if your fingernails have not been attended to. All your angels have flown to earth to do what they can to help. There is no one to help you. I understand now why you’ve been inactive. You probably can’t even scratch if you get itchy. I hope you are itching all the time. But please God, despite my blasphemy, if you really are there and paying attention, promise me there really is a hell.