Capitalism in Heaven

“WHAT?” God exclaimed, bringing the coupon closer to his face. “Two for one on ‘Civil-War-Be-Gones’!”

Jesus, standing next to him, replied, “Excellent. Rwanda has been a bloodbath recently.”

“But Cambodia, J? So many children and peaceful monks! Even if they are Buddhists, they would make good Christians…”

“There are children being murdered in Rwanda too! Anyway, it is buy one get one free, so you can get one for each.”

God had turned to the shelf. Bright blue canisters lined the top, their orange lettering brash: “Civil-War-Be-Gone! For 100 Years! Good for any nation on earth!” And in tiny lettering below: “Not for use in Myanmar. The Karen Conflict has been going on for too fucking long.”

Myanmar…” God muttered, turning the can over in his hands. “It has been weighing on me… I wonder if they have a weather section here too? Maybe I could send them a plentiful crop…”

Jesus surveyed the store, scanning the multitude of signs that marked each aisle. At that moment, an employee rounded the corner towards them. “Ah great, I heard the Abrahamic God and his son were here,” he said, smiling, “Ganesha said they saw you come in! I didn’t believe them.”

“Why would we not come to Miracle Tree?” God asked. “This is where all gods shop for miracles. As you well know.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” replied the store attendant, tugging his smock over a bulbous belly, “It’s just, you’ve been going heavy on the smiting.”

God’s eyes narrowed.

The man went on: “My girlfriend works over at Plagues-R-Us. She said she saw you every day this week!”

God sputtered in response “W-Well…” The audacity of this man. To talk to him this way! Him! “Well… you do not know what they have done!”

The attendant threw up his hands. “You’re right! You know everything!”

God cleared his throat. “Yes, yes that is right.”

“Pops, let us go. I have quite a backlog of prayers to get through.”

“Right, yes. Let us go.”

At the checkout counter, the store attendant rung up their items.

“That’ll be 2.4 billion souls, please.”

“What?! But the sale?”

“Umm…” The attendant scanned the receipt. “For two ‘Civil-War-Be-Gone’s’, yep, it’s 2.4 bil.”

God pulled out his wallet and extracted the only card. In the center of the card was a number. It was fluctuating, numbers added, subtracted every moment. It was hovering around 2.2 billion.

Jesus patted his father’s shoulder. “We will get there Dadd-o, we will get there.”


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