I sat silently for a minute or two, still in shock at the overwhelmingly underwhelming conference I'd just had with God and his buddy Lucifer.
Realizing that I'd probably never really collect my thoughts, I got up and wandered out of the store. Salabas was leaning casually up against the side of the building, his arms crossed. "Howdy," he said simply.
"Howdy," I returned. "So you actually work for those two idiots?"
He grinned good-naturedly and cocked his head to the side. "Technically, I only work for God, but those two are like peas in a pod. I sometimes forget I don't work for the both of 'em."
"How do you guys get anything done?" I asked incredulously. "I'm serious. After meeting its creator, I'm honestly starting to think that the universe is held together by duct tape and paper clips."
"Perhaps you just don't understand them," he reasoned. "Their ways are higher than ours. What seems like madness to a layman is really just the only rational approach an enlightented master can take to an infinitely chaotic world."
I narrowed my eyes. "Stick with the folksy stuff. Getting all philosophical really doesn't work for you."
His grin was unwavering. "As you like it, son," he said. "Sometimes when I try waxing profound it makes me look like a bullfrog in a bowtie."
I sighed and shook my head. "You know what? Maybe the folksy stuff is a bit too much after all."
"Beggin' your pardon, sir," he responded instantly.
"I'm gonna teleport back to my friends at the high school," I told him. "You're welcome to join me if you're tired of hanging around outside a burger joint looking like a fashion-deficient pimp."
"That is what I believe they call a zinger, sir," Salabas replied.
"Whatever," I said. "See you around."