The Landlord had some dental work done last Tuesday, and it was apparently causing him a bit of discomfort yesterday while at work. He was discussing the pain with a coworker, who responded by asking, “Do you believe in the healing power of Jesus Christ? Because if you do, I’ll say a prayer for you tonight.”
Ever the diplomat, The Landlord thanked her kindly. She then asked if perhaps he had time right then to say a prayer.
“Well,” he began, “I’m kind of busy right now. And also, I hope that God has some bigger fucking issues on his plate than my teeth.”
Okay, so he didn’t say the last part. But he said it to me in the retelling, and insisted that I include it verbatim in this story. I think God will be angry with The Landlord though, and will smite him by causing all of his teeth to fall out. Which is fine by me, because I believe in the healing power of laughter.