here's a secret you might not know. even god has a girlfriend. he met her at the drugstore i suppose, or maybe at the creator's annual ball, where she wore some pretty red slippers. her name is mirrorgirl. now on this night god told his mirrorgirl to stick around and watch the marblekids climb back to them. "better than a holy orgasm," he proposed. she cuckled and doubted it. "it'll take them about twelve infinities to get here..." he said, "but that's only an hour to us." god's mirrorgirl played with make-up and laughed a little while god explained the inconceivable ideas of emotion and despair and love to her. life was unconditional there, in the great mobile in the mississippi mud sky. mirrorgirl didn't understand little painful emotions. so he told her everthing about mystery and death. he explained how the souls would play in all the bodies of trees and men and girls and murderers and fools and astronauts and dinosaurs. and mirrorgirl began to listen with a fever. he told her about the violet conclusion when their glassy love-souls would finally stick together like a mud mosic or god-collage. their twelve ininities of different lives would finally attach themselves back to him again, just so gracefully. and they would thank him for the beautiful experiences of despair and death and agony. when god looked up from his delicious vodka mumble he saw mirror-girl looking at him with long puddle eyes that poured. and understanding filled his heart. so the next day he threw mirrorgirl down, next to jesus and hitler and me and the marble kids.