“Okay, everyone on the floor, now!”

Obediently, everyone in the small convenient store got down on the ground.

“Get the cash, Rodney.”

Rodney turned to the man behind the counter and opened a bag. “You heard the man,” Rodney said. “Put the money in the bag.”

“Chris, why can’t you just leave me alone?” the storeowner asked.

“Shut up,” Rodney ordered. “Money in the bag. Right now, Chris is God. Your life is in his hands. Don’t piss him off.”

Christ didn’t say anything, only listened to the register open and get emptied into Rodney’s bag. The owner was doing it slowly on purpose. Chris turned around.

“Look, I’m a busy man. Could you hurry it up? Don’t go playing games with me. Rodney warned you.” He turned his gun on the man. “No joke.”

Suddenly, Chris felt himself being watched. Knowing that Rodney had the storeowner covered, he turned his gun quickly, and found himself face to face with a tall, skinny black man.

“Who in the hell do you think you are? I thought I told you to get down. I’m not afraid to blow your head off.”

“You might wanna get down,” the storeowner said.

“Stay outta this!” Chris shouted. “You better get your ass back on the floor or you’re dead!”

“I’m God,” the man said.

Chris was stunned for a moment. “Yeah, and I’m Cinderella. Get down!”

“There’s a definite resemblance,” Rodney said.

“Go to hell, Rodney. Shut up and get the money.” Rodney turned back, suppressing a grin. “Look man, Rodney was right when he said I was God. And you’re pissing me off.”

“I’m God,” the man said again.

“What the fuck’s your problem?” Chris spat in his face. The storeowner was eyeing the two fearfully. “You don’t seem to understand.”

“I’m God.”

“Why don’t you just shoot him?” Rodney suggested. “He ain’t worth the trouble.”

“Are you thinking I won’t shoot you?”

“I’m God.”

“Christ!” Chris yelled in frustration.

“No, I’m God.”

“How ‘bout this?” Chris lowered his aim to the man’s groin. “How you like me to shoot your balls off, you bastard? Getting shot hurts like hell, but you ain’t a man if you ain’t got your balls.” Chris put pressure on the trigger. The owner behind the counter closed his eyes.

“I’m God,” the man said.

“All right, no more jackin’ off for you, mama’s boy.” Chris was ready to do it when the man said:

“I’m God.”

“Damn it!” Chris couldn’t pull the trigger. The man wasn’t scared.

“Hey,” Rodney said. “Why don’t we leave?”

“The goddamn bastard pissed me off!” Chris shouted.

“I know,” Rodney said. “But if you’re not gonna shoot him, let’s go. I’ve got the bash. We’ll come back when this wacko guy ain’t here.”

Rodney put a hand on Chris’ arm to lead him to the door, but Chris shrugged it off. When Rodney started walking to the door, though, Chris followed.

“Don’t you ever fuck with me again,” Chris said as he backed out of the store. “If I see you and you do fuck with me, you’ll be losing a lot more than your balls.” And with that, Chris and Rodney jumped into an old car and sped off.

The man looked at the storeowner. “I’m God.”

“You must be,” the owner said. “You can get off the floor, everyone.”

Slowly, the customers got off the floor and left. The tall man stayed.

“Like I said, you must be God,” the owner said after seeing the man wasn’t going anywhere. If you’d been anyone else, Chris woulda blown your head off, no questions asked. Exactly as he said, you don’t mess around with Chris.”

The man seemed to ponder the thought. “I’m God.”

“I know, I know. Chris has friends. And if you don’t watch yourself, they’re gonna be after you, and when they’re through, you’ll probably be nothin’ more than an undercooked hamburger. You might not want to show your face around here. In fact, I don’t want them after me, too, so you’d better get out of here.”

The man said nothing.

“Chris has robbed this place three times before. No one around here reports it ‘cause they know they’ll be dead before the police even find Chris. Take a Slim Jim if you want, but please leave. I have a family. I don’t need them in danger.”

“I’m God,” the man simply said, then left the store.