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It wasn’t easy being God, but it didn’t suck either. It was a lot of hard work, but there were perks. For instance, he alone could get Malomars in the Summer.

So why did he sell? He wanted to wrote his memoirs. He was concerned that with the burden of being God, his Part 3 would be no better than the Godfather Part 3. Furthermore, the offer was too good.

He was concerned, however, about the membership of the corporate conglomerate that was dealing with. Obviously the membership all had to be dead.

The numbers were astronomical. God believed in regulations. He would never allow sub-prime mortgages in heaven, therefore there were no short-sales and no mortgage modifications. Real Estate in Heaven was at an all time high. The money was to be deposited in an off shore account in the Cayman Islands.

But God still didn’t know who he was dealing with. What did it matter? The Matrix for life on Earth was so good that it had survived floods, hurricanes, the 1994 Baseball strike and George W. Bush. He would take the deal.

After the closing his first activity was a Club Med vacation. He asked some of the Angels to pack for him. They packed a Speedo thong. He wasn’t sure that he would ever get a chance to wear the suit, since he never intended for people to be clothed anyway.

The first day at dinner he sat with a German couple and some girls from Jersey. He knew before asking that they were from Jersey because of the accents, the abundance of eye shadow and the fact that they were discussing exit numbers.

Eventually the topic of the nude beach came up. The girls giggled. They said that they'd go topless, but not nude. God blushed with the image and swore that he'd look for them the next day. After all, he did know what he was looking for, since he was God he had seen them in their natural state many times. And it was good.

Ronnie went back to his room and started to unpack. He suddenly realized that there were items in the bag that he hadn't asked the angels to put there. The Angel of the Jewish Mothers was at it again. She fed him, looked after him. He swore that he'd move out by his next birthday, his six thousandth. He accepted the fact that she had packed a heavy sweater for him. This is often needed near the Equator. But did she have to pack the prunes?

The next day he got up early and went to the beach. He figured that since he really didn't know anybody yet, then this was the ideal day to go to the nude beach. He put on his Speedo, loaded himself with sun tan lotion, but forgot that there were going to be parts of his body that had never seen the sun before.

He thought that he looked great in the thong. In reality had Neal Armstrong seen that moon he would have planted the American flag and stated that this was "one small step for a man a disgusting sight for mankind!"

He staked out his spot, gradually got up the nerve to take off his Speedo.

When a couple of beautiful naked ladies were walking his way. They said something, in French to him. His French was a little rusty. He turned to the woman on the next blanket, "Do you speak French?"

"Yes, I do."

"Do you know what they said?"

"Oui, they said that it looks like a Penis, only smaller."



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