I have stolen the hand of God. She wants it back but I have grown tired of her aches and strikes to my heart, so while I evade her my revenge is to puppet God’s hand with my own. Now, her hand does kind things to me like write “VICTORY” in capital letters when I have won gold coins in my computer game, in capital letters so as to drown out the sound of thunder outside as God searches for me.

You might say that writing with God’s hand has become somewhat of a hobby. I have written VICTORY in capital letters across the energy bars without nutrients that I eat for fuel and VICTORY across the bodies of women who I sleep with for fuel. VICTORY across the top of my great works-to-be, between the titles I have penned and the words I will write, the companies I will found, the conquests I shall make with God’s hand soon, someday soon.

VICTORY I take naps to forget so I can awake in victory. I watch movies each day that remind me of victory. I suck into nothing hard candy melted to crosses for VICTORY VICTORY VICTORY With God’s puppet hand I build my own games now for other people to play with slot machine rewards so they can feel my victory, games that started digital but now expand multi-platform: physical, social, societal, beyond. I use God’s hand to create mixed media porn so potent that your genitalia will explode in VICTORY! I use God’s hand to paint the world in electrodes zapping nucleus acumbi and the world sings my praises, singing: VICTORY!

I have stolen the hearts of the people, and wrung their red pigments into buckets into which I dip God’s hand to write VICTORY! in bright red streaks across buildings, billboards, banners and television sets hoping that God will see, hoping that God will find me.

I wonder now why she still has not found me. And where her thunder has gone. I try other places now, the places she might search, I write VICTORY! across war zones, famines, orphans, and wards for the schizophrenic patients who I have driven mad, who now claim to have seen God. I ask them Where? and they stare at nothing. I scream at them, “VICTORY!” and they stare right through me. I offer them God’s hand and they stare at me numbly, and when I meet their numb eyes, it is God who stares back.