Me (driving home from the gym, worrying about my place in the literary pantheon and whether it’s really a virtue to eat an entire fruitcake so it won’t go stale): “If only I knew how to be happy! Oh, Jesus, why can’t I be happy?”

Jesus: “If you wanted to be happy, you would be. Obviously you want something else more. What is it?”

Me: “I want to be important.“

Jesus (who lately has been channeling Mr. T): “I died for you, fool! It doesn’t get more important than that.”

Me: “Um, that’s really nice of you and all, but it feels kind of generic. I mean, you died for everyone and I’m just incorporated by reference. Is there anything that makes me important as me?“

Jesus: “All operators are busy assisting other customers…please stay on the line…”