Conversation With The Universe

“Hey Jon, it’s me, the Universe.”
“Yeah.”
“’Yeah?’ What kind of greeting is that?”
“*Sigh* Hello, Universe.”
“That’s better. So, knocked off work early and decided to use the extra time to mow the old lawn, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow, you’re getting really sweaty.”
“Well, it is over 90 degrees out.”
“It sure is. Looks like you picked a lousy time to get motivated.”
“I suppose so, but I couldn’t put it off any longer.”
“Shouldn’t have procrastinated so much.”
“It didn’t help matters any that every time I thought about mowing it would start raining.”
“No, I suppose it didn’t.”
“And the rain made the grass grow even more.”
“Yeah, it sure did. Wow, you’re really, really sweaty. Hey, remember how earlier today there was a nice cool breeze? Now when you could really use it, it’s stopped. That’s funny, huh?”
“Hilarious.”
“Looks like some of that sweat is running into your eyes.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Does it sting?”
“Yes, quite a bit.”
“Hey, do you think it would help matters any if I made sure that some of the dirt and grass you’re kicking up with the mower flew into your eyes?”
“Ow! No, it doesn’t help.”
“Hmm, okay…how about I have some of the bugs buzzing around your head fly into them?”
“Dammit!”
“Heh, guess that’s not helping either.”
“No, it really isn’t.”
“Well, what if I – ”
“Look, would you just leave me the hell alone and let me finish mowing my goddamn lawn?”
“Hmmph. That’s no way to ask the Universe for a favor.”
“Fine. I apologize.”
“You don’t mean it.”
“Yes, I do. Honest.”
“Hmm, well, I guess I believe you, but you’re going to have to be nicer to me.”
“Okay. I’m willing to put up with the heat, and the sweat running into my eyes, and even the grass and the dirt. The bugs just seem excessive, though, so would you please be so gracious as to have them stop dive-bombing my eyes? I would really appreciate it. And could you also just let me finish mowing without any further interruption? Thank you.”
“Okay, that’s better. I’ll leave you to it.”

Ten minutes later…

“Hey Jon, did you notice that bit where I made the mower get stuck when you were pushing it so that when you moved forward you ended up getting hit in the groin by the mower’s handle?”
“Ow, yes, I did. It was, after all, my groin that took the hit.”
“Oh, right. I guess you would notice something like that.”
“You really don’t grasp the concept of doing someone a favor, do you?”
“No, I grasp the concept, I’m just unwilling to do you any favors.”
“That’s about what I figured.”