At The Gas Station Where I Often Get Gas

Jeffrey Zable

I was just about to put the nozzle into the gas tank of my car

when a guy appeared out of nowhere and said, “Hello there, friend.

I’m God, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to pump the gas for you.

I’m here to help humanity in any way I can, and pumping your gas

will give me the opportunity to serve once again.”

Taken back, I nonetheless said, “If you’re really God, then you’re

welcome to do so. There are plenty of shady characters around,

but you look like someone who’s trustworthy.”

“If you can’t trust me, then who can you trust!?” he responded.

Nodding affirmatively, and then giving him the nozzle, I replied,

“Please just make sure that you get it all in there. Gas is so expensive

these days that I don’t want to waste a single drop.”

“Makes perfect sense!” God concurred, while pressing down

on the spout. “It’s tough for everyone these days. There are more

people out on the streets than ever. I can only help so much

as I don’t have access to money. Never have, and probably

never will.”

After resetting the nozzle on the fuel tank, he then looked at me

rather embarrassingly and said, “I hate to ask. . . but could you

spare some extra money so I can get something to eat?”

Feeling sorry that he even had to ask, I took out my wallet,

drew out a twenty, and putting it in his hand, I told him,

“There’s a deli up the street that makes the best liverwurst

sandwiches around. And only 14 dollars! You’ll have extra

to get a drink as well.”

“I’ll remember your kindness!” God said in a serious tone,

before he turned and headed in that direction. . .