Topographical Wiseass

Three men were participating in a corporate "esprit de corpse' enhancing exercise in the forest when, hiking through a particularly fierce region of the wilderness, were suddenly confronted by a vast, raging maelstrom of a river.

Urgently needing to get to the other side, the first man prayed: "Dear Lord, I beseech thee to give me the strength to cross this river."

Poof!

God enlarged his arms by a factor of 2.47, increased the strength of his legs by at least as much and the devout Christian swimmer was able to swim across in about 2 hours, albeit nearly succumbing to the waters on two fairly shitty moments of sincere but, ultimately of course, temporary doubt.

After witnessing the preceding, the second man sank to his knees and prayed to his Lord and Saviour with every fibre of his being:

"God in Heaven and His Only Begotten Son! I will devote the rest of my life to your service with particular reference to the heathen in Saudi Arabia and surrounding areas full of rich unbelievers which many of your followers seem to have overlooked in favor of other locations blessed by Taco Bells of greater proximity. But this I will do, I will go unto the sea of tea-towel/fan-belters to show them The Way, I swear it Lord, if you will only grant me the strength--and the, uh, tools--to cross this river, Praise Jaysus!"

Poof!

God instantly produced a Boston Whaler tied up to a nearby tree and the Believer powered across the raging effervescence in a Khobar minute, which runs just about an hour and a quarter.

Seeing what had happened to the first two men, the third man--a consultant passing himself off as an atheist to get his nose up a violently devout VP's ass significantly further than would otherwise have been the case--suddenly found spiritual sustenance sufficient to make the following heartfelt-to-the-core albeit ever so slightly more comprehensive request via the usual gratuitous and billed-in-advance "pre-planning."

Poof!

The Lord instantly transformed the third member of the party into a woman.

"God!" he/she/it invoked the heavens. "This is me--Ted! Or Tessa! Whatever! Strictly up to you, I could give a shit!"

"For chrissake," continued Ted/Tessa, "please give me/us/she/it/him (a) the strength, (b) the technology, (d) the bogus schedule and budget I'll need to back up this true smeller of a billing and--most important of all--(c) the actual intelligence required to cross this cruel, bad-ass motherfucker of a river!!!'

The third person, now of the feminine persuasion, immediately went to his/her/its backpack, wherein was contained each and every item he/she/it/them had requested--including one in particular which caught her eye right off--a map of the immediate area which, checking it in the most cursory fashion possible, conclusively demonstrated that a hike of one hundred meters up-stream would take he/her/sheit to a massive bridge.

Whereby it embarked upon the twelve minute journey thereto and casually walked across the bridge--traversing, of course, the river.

The male members of the "team" were, of course, aghast at this miracle and all fell to their knees to praise the Lord for the wonders of His works.

After which they returned to their personalized work cubicles whence to proceed to the coffee machine where Earl, who wore the largest flag-lapel pin of all the "associates" in the office, summarized it all:

"And then the cunts wonder why they get treated like shit at work...."


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