And God said, “What should I have for lunch? I am a vengeful and mighty God, but for realz though, I’m hungry.”

Normally God had Chinese, for He was the Hebrew God, but God always overate when He ordered from Liu’s Garden, and He didn’t want to just coast through the rest of the afternoon. After all He still hadn’t invented oxygen or cocker spaniels yet. Also His wife was teasing Him about the extra weight He’d gained since all that “Let There Be Light!” business.

It was a stressful undertaking and He pulled a few all-nighters as a result. And He secretly started smoking again too. It was a stress thing. He picked it up in high school and never really gave it up for good.

It had been a busy day for Him. God worked on The Gospel of John and the second season of M.A.S.H. all morning and he was starving. Italian was out – more of a dinner thing. His vegan brother-in-law, Bernie, insisted He give macrobiotic another shot, but He would have none of it. And so God banished Bernie to below the Earth where he would rule over the kingdom of darkness. God was not in the mood for little Bernard Satansky’s hippie-dippie bullshit. He needed something substantial. Something filling.

“Honey,” God heard his wife call out from the den. “If you’re going out, could you grab me a Cobb Salad?”

“Another God damn Cobb Salad?”

“They’re delicious!”

“Women,” God thought to himself, “how inferior.” If his accountants didn’t scare him so much about going over budget, he would have put more work into the gender, but He messed up once with the whole dinosaur thing, and didn’t want his financing cut. He took some ribs from here and there and put something together at the last minute. A rushed re-writing job, really.

And so He created biscuits, and had Himself a little snack. “Man, I totally screwed the pooch on that one. Why couldn’t I have made women more like Steve?” God thought. “Sweet, sensitive Steve.”

“Now now, God,” He said to himself. “You specifically forbade those kinds of dark thoughts.” And God sighed and thought about jerking off in the bathroom before reconsidering. “Plus! Two men? That shit’s yucky!” He added. “No! It’s wrong. Definitely. I wrote it down and everything.”

The question remained; what was He going to eat? Crab cakes intrigued Him, but they weren’t kosher, and He really had been meaning to buckle down on that whole thing.

Tacos were always an option, but He had a burrito the night before, and tacos are really just small burritos. God knew this. Plus He stuffed Himself with chips and guac every time and when the food finally came he was already full.

A new gourmet burger shop had just opened up in the hip part of Heaven and He liked that. Regular old burgers were boring! “Oh and the mozzarella sticks!” God cried out. “they use some sort of lemon zest or something. It’s delish-ville.”

But could He really justify spending twenty bucks on a burger? I mean He wasn’t Trump. Just a God trying to do His job.

Pizza came to mind. But pizza’s a bit hit and miss in Heaven. I mean you would think Heaven would have some great pizza, but it was difficult to find a good slice out there lately. “Jersey has great pizza!” He thought. “But I’ll be fucked if I’m going there again.”

God was bummed. Surely there had to be something. Finally it came to Him. “A thing sandwiched between things! I’ll call it a Sandwich!” And so He created The Sandwich. And to accommodate his creation He created…The Sandwich Spot.

And so God went to The Sandwich Spot and He said, “eh, let Me try the number 5.” And He got His sandwich. And it was good.

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Andy Bankin is a comedian living in Brooklyn, NY. He wrote and directed the independent film, Happy Thanksgiving. He has a vacation home on the moon and once punched a koala in the face for looking at him funny.