On the eighteenth day of February, in the year two thousand and six, God said, "Let there be snow, gusting winds, and temperatures that freeze the nose hair of those with both two legs and four. I made January as pleasant as possibe and the wretched ingrates stopped praying. It seems they only respond to conditions that cause them grief and suffering. Then suffer they shall!"
His minions immediately set about the business at hand, and within twenty four hours the world looked something like this:
Upon returning snugly to the Lord's left hand (the right being already engaged by a considerably more worthy personage), His chief underling bleated, "Heavenly Farter, we have done ty bidding; what tinkest tow?"
"My dearest Chilblain, how many times have I asked you to attend some speech classes and correct that problem you have pronouncing your 'aitches' ? If you continue to ignore this request, I shall live up to the crude appellation you have so unwittingly contrived for me and envelop you in a fog of flatulence which shall not be dispersed until you have successfully resolved the matter."
"Yes, Fa. . .Far. . .Fart--"
"Enough Chilblain, enough! And by the way, you chaps did an excellent job down there. I am well pleased! That ought to bring the beggars to their knees once again!"
Not since the days of the Woolly mammoth had there been such a freeze on planet Earth. The beasts of the field were instantly turned into ice sculptures; birds froze in mid-flight and dropped to the ground like glass Christmas tree ornaments; and human beings? What could they do but pray?
In no time at all, Heaven was ringing with the groans and moans of human lamentation. Business was good (for without mortal suffering, what's a God or an angel to do?). The miracle lines were jammed; the hitherto immense stockpiles of surplus forgiveness were dwindling fast; both the Son and the Father had four phones glued to their heads at all times; and the underground storage tanks which contained the toxic sins of the saved were literally splitting at the seams.
"Chilblain," chuckled the Almighty, "I think you may have overdone it a trifle!"
"Yes, farter. Sorry, fa. . .fa. . .far. . ."
The great factory in the sky chugged and puffed merrily along until approximately nine AM, Eastern time, when an incident of unprecedented gravity suddenly tossed a spanner in the works. The dignitary at God's right hand was busily explaining the terms and conditions of his forgiveness to four more prospective clients, when he suddenly dropped all of his phones and started gesticulating frantically in the direction of the security monitors that blinked on the wall before him. "Father, Father," he cried, "there are those who would defy us! Look at camera sixty-four!"
Everyone in the room dropped what they were doing and swarmed to the screen in question. They stared aghast at the scene unfolding at the tips of their noses, shaking their heads in disbelief. Two mortals had ventured out into the howling wind and driving snow in order to amuse themselves. Had they had no inkling of the divine wrath that might smote them down for doing so?
"Christ Almighty!" roared God, his nose pressed flat against the glass.
"Lord above!" gasped the Son in accordance.
"What in heaven's name can they be up to?" queried the former.
"Privy-digging," muttered the other.
Nice place you' got there!
An iron-pontiled fruit jar (no embossing)
Handsome dude with nice find!
WJM GORDON / PHARMACEUTIST / CINCINATTI, O (iron pontil)
What's this?
A "GREAT SYSTEM RENOVATOR" (with hole in shoulder. Aghhhh!)
At twelve feet with headlight
One last surprise
It wasn't a bountiful pit; but whenever you can take a couple of keepers home with you, you've done alright. We found some other nondescript stuff and one decent black glass ale (very crude but unembossed). It was eight degrees and ten PM when we finally made our exit (without having been struck by thunderbolts or turned into pillars of salt, etc., etc.).
