You Can Go Home Again

The phone rang early. God wiped the sleep from his eyes as he picked up his iPhone 8, it wouldn't be out for years but he, of course, had one. The caller ID had one name on it. Of course he recognized the number:

Lucy
000 - (666) 555-34-45472

He really wanted a cigarette. He hated being omniscient because of course he remembered where he hid the damned things. In the cupboard behind that bowl that his daughter had made him. His son made the cupboards, of course. And they were very well done. But the bowl was also very nice, if a little amateurish. Of course, she had died at 12, martyred at the hands of some zealot iconoclasts. He knew that would happen. Just like he knew what Lucy wanted.

He tapped "answer" on his phone.

"Yahweh here."

"Sir," she started. "Dad."

"Lucy. How are you? It's been a while, like, two or three thousand years?" Of course it had been more like 1507, one month, and 14 days, but who was counting?

"I'm OK." This was a lie. And she knew that he knew and knew that she knew that he knew and all iterations thereof. She was just being polite. Which he knew.

"So, uhh, what can I do for you?"

He heard a sigh on the other end. He started to mouth the words mockingly as she said them.

"I want to come home."

He looked out of the window of his bedroom. The light outside was a little bright. He turned it down.

"That's fine. You know you were always welcome. But..."

And even she knew that it was coming. And he knew she knew. At this point it was all very obvious.

"What do I have to do?"

God snapped his fingers. Lucy was in God's room. She was still holding her phone (a current gen model on Earth). She lowered it and tapped to end the call.

"I hate it when you do that."

God shrugged.

"So you're home now. And you can stay, provided..."

"What test this time? Should I stay the hand of a tyrant? Shall I seduce a virgin? Instruct another poor sap to kill his children. That Susan Smith lady was just a bad call..."

"Nope. This one is easy."

And he reached behind Lucy's ear and produced...a jelly donut. Satan loves her some donuts.

"Jelly filled. Apple. Just a little tart. Just how you like it. Take it but don't eat it."

She did as she was told, though God knew that she was salivating.

"If you can hold onto that donut for 2 days--and it won't go bad--without eating it, then you can stay. And I've still got your old room. Haven't touched a thing. Well, except for Zita who does some vacuuming."

God watched Lucifer stare at the donut. "2 days," she said. "Not that long."

He knew she would succeed. But he couldn't tell her that. Well, he could. It was within his power. But he wouldn't because it wouldn't help.

He was just glad to have her home. She was his baby. His favorite, really.