God—busted

After getting all of the Pope’s luggage loaded into the limo, the driver notices that the Pope is still standing on the curb. “Excuse me, Your Eminence,” says the driver, “would you please take your seat so we can leave?” “Well, to tell you the truth,” says the Pope, “they never let me drive at the Vatican, and I’d really like to drive today.” “I’m sorry but I cannot let you do that. I’d lose my job! And what if something happens?” protests the driver, wishing he’d never gone to work that morning. “There might be something extra in it for you,” says the Pope.

Reluctantly, the driver gets in the back as the Pope climbs in behind the wheel. The driver quickly regrets his decision when, after exiting the airport, the Supreme Pontiff floors it, accelerating the limo to 105 mph. “Please slow down, Your Holiness!!!” pleads the worried driver, but the Pope keeps the pedal to the metal until they hear sirens. “Oh, dear God, I’m gonna lose my license,” moans the driver. The Pope pulls over and rolls down the window as the cop approaches, but the cop takes one look at him, goes back to his motorcycle, and gets on the radio. “I need to talk to the Chief,” he says to the dispatcher.

The Chief gets on the radio and the cop tells him that he’s stopped a limo going a hundred and five. “So bust him,” says the Chief. “I don’t think we want to do that, he’s really important,” says the cop. “I mean really important.” “Who you got there, the Mayor?” the chief asks. “Bigger. Bigger than the governor or everyone else for that matter,” says the cop. “Well, who is it?” asks the chief. “I think it’s God!” says the cop. “What makes you think it’s God?” Cop answers: “He’s got the Pope for a limo driver!”

Allan, by email