"Do you think my penis is too small?" God was in my living room, His pants around His ankles.

"I don't know, Lord. Don't they have pills for that in heaven?"

"It's not as small as it looks," God said, waving His holy member back and forth to some inaudible beat. "See, most people have good or bad hair days. I have God hair, it always looks the same. There's a lot of it, and it sticks out in every fucking direction. Instead, I have good and bad penis days. When I wake up in the morning I look down into my holy undershorts to check on the blessed phallus, and depending on how it looks, I know what kind of day it's going to be. Last Tuesday I woke up and the damn thing was hanging halfway down my thigh. I won three bucks from a scratch-off lotto card. Three bucks! But now I think it's on a waning cycle. Does it look like its receding to you?"

I examined the Lord's penis. Something was indeed very wrong.

"You aren't really God, are you?" I asked.

God stopped shaking his penis and looked at the floor sadly.

"No." He pulled His pants up to his stomach and left.

I've been an atheist ever since.