God gave me the gift of gab.
He does not accept returns.
So I wrote a letter to his manager.
It came back in ashes.
The envelope was still warm.
I had an angel on the phone,
but I could hardly understand him.
He told me to take a look in the mirror
then he hung up the phone.
I saw the bones of my mother fused with the eyes of my father,
I graciously thanked them both.
God banned me from his store.
My last check must have bounced.