If I could have lunch with any person, living, dead, or fiction, it would most definitely, undoubtedly be, God. I wouldn’t even choose a grand eatery. I would choose to have a slice of pizza with the most notorious individual in all of history. As we would sit down for lunch, God wouldn’t pull my chair out for me. Hell, the chair might even break from my weight. He would walk with a limp, and wear spectacles because his eyes went bad years ago. God would have a messy haircut and an unruly beard. After taking his first bite, there would be sauce on his upper lip. God would sneeze into his hand a few times and wipe his snot on his pants. He wouldn’t talk much, mostly focusing on his slice. I would try to start up conversation, and God would give me one-word answers. I would try to become enlightened, and God would tell me to screw off. After shoving down his slice, God would get up to leave while I was still eating. I would finally convince him to sit down, and ask him who he is. God would tell me the worst mistake he ever made was calling himself God in order to give people on earth a false sense of hope. He would explain to me that he is the root of all war, hatred, greed, and evil in this world. He is the anti-peace. He is corruption. He is the devil. Then, he would demand that I tell everybody I knew to stop praying because he can’t do anything about anybody’s problems, and he’s got a headache. Then, he would get up and leave, just like you or I would do when finishing a slice of pizza.