ROY MOORE: (taken aback) Who are you?
GOD: It is I, God Almighty, Yahweh, He of a Thousand Names, Creator of the Universe, etc., etc. Most people don’t have any problem recognizing Me. Who did you think I was?
ROY MOORE: (falling to his knees) Forgive me, oh Lord. I thought you were the Ghost of Christmas Past. His nagging ass usually shows up this time of year. But I welcome You into my home. I presume you are here to encourage me in my forlorn campaign to convince the people of Alabama that I, in fact, won the election the forces of evil keep saying I lost.
GOD: No, Roy, I’m here to tell you to knock it off. You lost. I’m only here because Trump and Bannon saying it weren’t enough to convince you. I mean, I respect the fact that nobody really believes a word those guys say, but this one time you should have listened to them.
ROY MOORE: Really?
GOD: You betcha. Doug Jones will be a fine Senator. You would have hated being in DC, anyway. My Will is for you to stay in Alabama. You can keep hanging around the mall, though.
ROY MOORE: Thank you God. I always knew it was Your Plan I was following when I was craving the fruits of young girls.
GOD: Yeah, not so much, Roy. I try to keep My Plans a little less icky. It’s true I created teenage girls, but I also created teenage boys to breathe heavily into their innocent ears and fondle them clumsily if they got the chance. Your assistance was not required. I also created premature ejaculation, but that was not specifically for you. It was just for lawlz.
ROY MOORE: But Lord, You created me. You made me with that issue. You also made me with those urges.
GOD: I’m just going to flat-out deny that, Roy. When you get to be My age, which is Eternal, you’ve mastered the art of diffusing responsibility. Why do you think I made Satan?
ROY MOORE: So, it was the Evil One guiding my hand towards the panties of pubescent girls? Save me, oh God!
GOD: Puh-leeze! You don’t know how many times a day I hear that. From people who are just late to work to people that are actually being eaten by crocodiles, it’s save me, save me, save me. Not interested.
ROY MOORE: But I don’t want to be cast into the Pit of Darkness!
GOD: You’ll do fine there, Roy. There are no gays and no abortions in Hell, so you can quit being browned off about them all the time. The only Jew there will be your lawyer. And all those guys that you love having statues of? Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson and that crew? They’re all there. They’ll be happy to borrow a pitchfork and do you the honor of carving their autographs into your back. There’s only one thing about the place you might not like…
ROY MOORE: What is that, oh Lord?
GOD: No teenage girls, Roy. You’ve put them through Hell already.