“What’s Keith rambling on about this time?” grumbled Raul. His head was resting on the table and his eyes remained closed.
“I’ll bite,” said Claire.
“What is it?” Keith’s face beamed with excitement. “I present to you now the five words that prove God exists…”
“I’ll believe God exists if he shuts you up,” snapped Raul.
“Raul! Manners. Don’t pay any attention to him, Keith. He’s in love with his attitude problem,” said Claire.
“Don’t worry about it. The five words are, ‘now I have seen everything’,” said Keith.
“That’s six words,” said Raul.
“No,” said Keith.
“Every thing is two words,” said Raul.
“It’s a compound word,” said Keith.
“Raul, you need to shut up,” chided Claire.
Claire winced. “I hate it when he calls me that.”
“It doesn’t matter how many words it is. The proof is incontrovertible,” said Keith.
“I don’t get it,” admitted Claire.
“Let me explain. Two days ago the high temperature was minus 17, right? I saw a guy walking down the street wearing nothing but a diaper, and I said, ‘now I have seen everything’.”
“Because nothing proves God exists like a nutjob in a diaper,” interrupted Raul.
“Well, the very next day I saw a woman walking down the street with a man on a leash. He was on all fours, like a dog,” said Keith. He was greeted with stunned expressions.
“How does that prove the existence of God?” asked Claire.
“It doesn’t. It just proves Keith lives in a freaky neighborhood,” said Raul.
“That’s not it. I was taunting God, daring him to show me something I’d never seen before,” said Keith.
“Right,” said Claire. “I’m afraid I agree with Raul. You may just need to change neighborhoods.”
“What did I tell you?” said Raul, with a self-satisfied grin.
Keith shrugged. “No matter what you say, there will always be doubters.”