Gods Fly

I read a fable to my brother
About a fly and God
It ended badly for the fly
And greatly for God
The fly was placed in his place
And God remained in his place
A stern look on the fly
Who was then squashed by my brother
And God thought it was entertaining
My brother read it back to me
and his fly squashed God
But as it was a fly it did nothing
and God flung it across the room
you see the fly is doomed,
The fly is fucked,
The fly is biding time to wait to die,
By my own hands to times,
And what a brief time it has
And as they say an Angel gets its wings,
When a lonesome ole bell rings,
So a fly dies,
When God barely even tries,
To snap his fingers.

My  brother said to me that the fly was the most useless creation he'd ever seen

And I told him watch what you say, and I asked him are you questioning God's good works,

He shook his head no and proceeded to respond that he just thought God had gotten lazy

When he created the fly

Well sure of course he did, he got finished creating man, and all the beast of the fields and the birds of the air,

They all had to shit you know, so no God did not get lazy,

God got clever when he made the fly,

He took care of all the shit,

And the fly got to pester people all day and God made them fast enough to escape with their lives in tact half the time.

And gave us, 

On our good days

Some mighty good sport to destroy.

I read my brother a joke

And it went something like this:

What did one fly say to the other fly?

God don't give a shit,

how do you know,

He'd have invited us over by now.

But the other fly disagreed and he said,

God shits all the time,

What do you think man is?