God: Why do you keep trying to do things your way? Let me drive.
Me: I love You, God, but you’re too slow. I got this.
God: You think you’re getting somewhere?
Me: Eventually; I’m not there yet, but, look, we are going forward, right? My foot’s on the gas.
God: Too bad your attitude earns you square wheels.
Me: Damn it.
God rests back and folds his arms.
God: BTW, cursing drains your gas.