Yayo Short 8: Holy Holiness of hollow phone calls
A pure and beautiful tune, like a heavily choir singing, pierced through Gods skull like an arrow. Not because he disliked the sound of it, but because he knew who was the reason for it. Only one person ever calls him on his paradise phone line.
"Yayo." uttered God grumpily, while removing his pince nes from his nose and directing his attention to the golden rotary dial phone vibrating next to him on a small wooden table.
An angel approached the Holy Father. "Aren't you going to answer, my lord. It could be some other than that dwarfish troublemaker."
"No," God replied with a sigh," it is Yayo. I should have never given her my number. I don't know what I was thinking."
The phone was still ringing persistently and God started to get anxious.
"Well," the Angel intervened," she did help you with the plagues in Egypt."
God gave his servant a cold stare. "Don't remind me of that. I mean, what was I supposed to do? My plague generator was broken, so I had to find another way to create the plagues. Yayo promised not to snitch and did it for a low price. I was thankful. Although the plagues were all half-assed. Still, I felt obligated out of my eternal generosity to allow her to contact me. Not even the pope has that privilege. Heck, that old coon keeps on standing on balconies and pretends to know me."
"Sir," interrupted the Angel," the phone."
"Oh, right." God snapped out of his thought-monologue and grabbed the phone-receiver.
Before God could even say "Hello", a familiar shrill voice shot though the phone into gods ear. Now he knew, it was her.
"God!? God!!!" the voice was very muffled and Yayo sounded like she was standing in the middle of a snowstorm.
"Heyyyyy Yayo. How is it..." The Holy Father was about to make up some excuse why he couldn't continue the conversation, when he was interrupted by Yayo screaming into the phone.
"NO TIME FOR THAT GOD! I AM STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF AN ICY DESERT AND I NEED YOU TO GET ME OUT OF HERE BEFORE I FREEZE!"
"Oh," God responded mockingly," and what if I don't?"
"IF I DIE, YOU'LL HAVE ME AT YOUR TOES FOR THE REST OF ETERNITY, DUMBASS!"
God had not thought of that. Just the mere idea of having Yayo in heaven made him shutter in fear. Paradise was too small to contain Yayo's insanity.
"Fine," gods exhausted and shaky voice was a witness to the fact that God might never be able to get rid of Yayo. The least he could do was to endure her infrequent phone calls about her fishing hobby, if that keeps her occupied from trying more bothersome things like sending God packages filled with anthrax.
God snapped with his Fingers.
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On the other side of the phone line, Yayo found herself being magically lifted up and transported through the air. An Angel had materialised and got a hold of Yayo.
The flight was long and nerve-wracking. Not for Yayo, but the poor Angel assigned with the task of carrying the flesh-become nuisance. To the Angels detriment, Yayo spent most of the journey complaining about her cold feet, insufficient equipment and her lost ice cream. All the while she was waggling with her childrens shovel in front of the holy messengers face. It took all of his patience and will-power to overcome her whining.
In other circumstances Yayo would not bother mentioning her illnesses, not even if a screw were stuck in her hand. But Yayo liked taking the piss out of the holy sugar daddy in the sky and his League of extraordinary gay angels. That is why she raked up her moaning to 100 every time she came across the heavenly folk. It is suffice to say, that their patience is almost as short as the expiration date for cooked spinach.
With his nerves destroyed, the Angel dropped Yayo a few feet away from her house and quickly disappeared thereafter; not wanting to run the risk of getting roped into another conversation.
Yayo was very pleased with herself. Whoever gets to annoy god on a frequent basis? Although her methods were getting kind of old.
"Jehova really needs a smartphone," Yayo thought grinning," I really want to send him some photos of my awesome sea basses that I have caught."
Not wasting any time, Yayo slithered into her house, out of her wet clothes and into her favourite orange snuggy, which is made only of the finest materials. 100% polyester reads the label.
Crawling around the floor like a slug, Yayo found a comfortable spot next to the living room radiator. While she was sitting there, waiting for her rust and cowbell flavoured tea to finish brewing, she drew a couple of sketches on a small piece of paper.
Yayo smiled again like a mischievous problem causer. "Maybe I will send God some cookies for his birthday this year," Yayo contemplated," skunk fart flavoured ones!"
Surprised by her own perceived ingeniousness Yayo let herself fall on her back. She then proceeded to view her little artistic endeavour from further away, which showed a crudely scribbled angry Baby-God being fished out of a sea by Yayo.
She continued to gawk at her artwork, until she was interrupted by the whistling of the tea pot.