I talked to God on Chatroulette vol. 2

 There is a three click combo required to move to the next person on Omegle that I use to skip through the never ending parade of dicks. In case you haven't rolled face, you don’t know, the average user is a dude waiting for someone or something to watch him flog his dolphin. There are also young looking girls, oblivious middle aged suburbanites, and Justin Bieber lookalikes. It is not a very broad cultural spectrum? There are very few intellectual conversions. Every once in a while you get the exception to the rule. I talked to him for about 45 minutes. I don’t know why he was there, I guess no one would notice him and he could work efficiently. Maybe he was just bored or something.

 He looked stoned. He sat at an unusually small mahogany desk littered with several newspapers worth of scraps of paper in every shape, color, and size. There were ideas stacked on top of ideas, collages coming out of collages, and the byproducts of ideas, both the inside and outside edges of what he had cut out. There was a black cat sitting in his lap purring so loudly I could hear it through my laptop’s speakers. “What’s your cat’s name,” I asked. “Mr. Skribbles," he said. "S-K-R-I-B-B-L-E-S"

 I told him about how I also like to make collages and he smiled. He encouraged me, and he said making things was the primary function of human beings, and that mostly old people talked to him.

“Creativity is one of my most complicated and rewarding gifts,” he said with an old man's vibrato.
"What of everything on earth then made in your image?" I asked. He paused for exactly one minute, and said
“It is only made of scrap." After that he sat quietly for a moment until instantaneously his flailing arms tore into a looming stack of coffee mugs, which then exploded over his head, I thought he was dead. As he lie there I thought about who he could possibly be, and found no reason to believe it wasn't him. I’m think it was him.

 He awoke and sat very still. I asked him “May I see some of your work,” and he nodded his head yes. Then he went away from the camera for a while and I started to worry. I hoped I hadn’t scared him away by asking too many personal questions.  I heard his footsteps on the wooden floors and then he appeared from down a long whitewalled hallway with all of his original charcoal sketches of the animals, watercolors of each of the seven seas, and a white ceramic dove.  “How did you get the idea for humans?” I asked. “I thought of it in the shower,” he replied.

My face could not hold any emotion. Looking back on my life, I've been getting ideas while taking showers since I was a little kid. Most of them were not very good, but in a memorable sort of way.
 “Show me some of your work,” he said.

 “I made this collage out of a surfing magazine,” I told him as I held it up to the camera. “Very nice,” he said. “My friend is real good at drawing demons, here is the url to his tumblr,” I said. I watched him type it in, then watched his face as he looked into the screen. “Spooky,” he said.

 “I have to go feed my cats now,” he said. I said “Nice to meet you,” but I don’t think he heard me; After a little I thought what if he didn't have to go feed his cats. If that's what he says to everyone he is about to next, maybe he lied? Maybe he nexted me. Maybe he simply wanted to talk to someone else who was out there, all alone, clicking through the dicks. And I wasn't the only person in the world with something interesting to say. Maybe he wanted me to see that I would find someone better to talk to.