Page 20 - Billy Graham in Heaven

The Four Lane into the Brain
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this morning,” he said.
“That may or may not be true,” maintained Nietzsche,
“but have you actually seen him?”
“No. I just got here. We’re in Heaven aren’t we? Where
God lives?”
Nietzsche quaffed a deep draught from a pint glass of
stout. “There you go again,” he said, beer froth bubbling on his incredibly thick mustache. “You preachers are like my pastor father, always using crumbs of sketchy evidence to create worlds of belief.”
“Friedrich, if you’d only accept Jesus Christ as your personal savior you’d have no more doubts. And he’d alleviate your suffering so much you’d take back your other awful cliché: ‘If it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger.’” Graham sipped thoughtfully from a pony bottle of pilsner that seemed to have suddenly appeared next to him.
“Reverend, you can’t tempt me to surrender to that simpering, cheek-turning, ego-phobic, mount- sermonizer.”
“Just wanted to see if I could do anything for your obviously wounded self-esteem,” said Graham. “You have to accept the meek in yourself to achieve the God perspective that is the effortless birthright of Christians.”
“Smirthright,” mumbled Nietzsche. “I’m a God just like everyone who creates their own lives. We’re not slaves to the multitude of laws of Jesus and Moses. Not to mention rendering unto Caesar way, way too much more than his due. You duck your head so low that it would embarrass a whipped puppy.”
“Now Friedrich, let’s just let the matter settle a bit and drink our beers. How long have you been here? There’s not