I hesitate to call it a game

God: Yes.

Question: Why didn't you answer my previous question?

 

God: (sorry) "That" is an illusion.

Q: Do dogs go to heaven?

 

God: Sorry, but I must enter Grandpa Simpson mode to answer this question. What was the question again? Ohh yes. I knew this german shepherd once, loyal dog, stayed with me throughout WWII. We were in the trenches together, when this nurse named bertha came up to us with an ice cream cone.

Now, we had been fighting on both sides of the battle for many months, me being the loyal american, and the Dog being a German Shepherd... So, anyways, bertha gave the dog the ice cream cone, and she didn't give me anything. The story of my life. All the credit goes to the dogs. You know, that reminds me of the time I was playing hopscotch against one eyed willie. He was a wierd kid, and he never could rub 2 pennies together, something to do with his bad eye.

So willie was trying to rub pennies together, because the bad kids would give them to him to get him to rub them together (image of abe giving willy pennies superimposed above God's head) just to see him fail. Man, were those the days. You could get a soda from the soda jerk, well, that's what they called them when I was a kid. You kids have no appreciation of the finer things in life!!

Where was I? Ohh, yes, well the german shepherd got the ice cream cone, and as far as I am concerned the bastard can rot in hell.