Jesus, the Party Planner

The following conversation is based on a true story. (Translation: My system is filled with alcohol, and I have a sudden need to be irreverent.)

rrriinng, rriiinngg . . .

Me: Moshi moshi.
Jesus: Did I have too many sakes when I created you?
Me: Oh, hey Lord, 'sup?
Jesus: Err, just confirming if you can make it this Sunday.
Me: I don't know, I'm still undecided.
Jesus: I know. I'm omnipotent, remember?
Me: Then why'd you call me?
Jesus: Because I love pissy Mel. Pissy Mel is fun.
Me: Me? I'm not pissed.
Jesus: You are too. And you are definitely going. That's an order.
Me: What happened to free will, and all that stuff?
Jesus: Free will, schmeewill, You are going!
Me: Fine, fine. Is Mary gonna be there?
Jesus: Yes, and I'm telling you right now, if you throw that perfume thing in her face again, I'll...
Me: threaten me with eternal damnation?
Jesus: Worse, I'll let you have tea with Andrew for two months.
Me: Oh God, please not that. I still have nightmares about salmon-flavored tea, and sardine sandwiches.
Jesus: Weeeelll, being the fount of mercy that I am, I suppose you can do me one teeny, tiny thing. And then I'll forget all that business about taking my name in vain, and I'll even tell Mary to replace that perfume she stole from you.
Me: Hmmm.
Jesus: Well?

*post to be continued, creepy boss alert.*