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Roommates

                God was having yet another bout of insomnia so in the middle of the night he threw on his sweat pants and a big, comfy sweater emblazoned with a ‘Kiss the Cook’ slogan, and took a long walk with his dog, Frank.

                He wasn’t entirely surprised to find that he ended up at his office, a place where he spent countless hours.  “I’m like a homing pigeon,” he thought ruefully. “I always end up back here.”  He opened the utilitarian wood door and walked down the hall to his office.  His office was surprisingly small for those that came to see him, with a plain wooden desk, two chairs and six gray filing cabinets lined up against one wall.  People seemed to expect to see gold fixtures, a harp leaning against a corner and perhaps a couple of angels, one at his left hand, and one at his right.  But God was a simple fellow and not much into fancy things.  The walls were bare except for a single painting, one his son did when he had settled in after his arrival.  Jesus had found that he had quite the talent for art so he painted a still life of three apples in a bowl, resting on a simple wooden table.