God was snoring again.
A minor angel, who was god's housekeeper looked on in disappointment, muttering that he never tidied a damn thing.
God read her thoughts and woke. "You calling me lazy?!" he boomed.
"Actually, yes I am. You've been in that bed for 250 billion years now."
"Don't exaggerate. It's only been 248 billion."
"Don't you think you should do something?"
"Oh very well. I think I will make stars and planets and mortal life. Should take 7 days."
"7 days? I thought you had infinite power? Can't you do it before lunch?"
God snorted grumpily.
Six million years later the phone started ringing. God was asleep, as always.
"Boss, you've got thousands of mortals trying to contact you using prayer, asking to stop earthquakes and disease. And quite a few would like more money. Shouldn't you take their calls?"
"Stuff and nonsense. I've got things to do," he yawned, checking his schedule. "Oh no, my mistake, got nothing on for the next 20 million years until Judgement Day. God almighty, I've been rushed off my feet lately."
He collapsed back into his pillow.