Dear Lord,
I would much appreciate if you'd stop sending trials my way, for clearly I am not your chosen one nor do I have the patience of Job. If I need to pledge to become a nun or a hermit in order for you to pull the corn cob out of your possible ass, don't hold your breath, I guess we'll both be in crappy situations. I have enough trouble with the things I put on MY own plate without the helpful little bunches you throw my way. So if you could just give me a couple months of relaxation, I'll be renewed enough so that you keep throwing me curve balls. However the way things are heading if you don't lay off you're going to lose your play thing. It's a shame you didn't have a mother or she might have imparted the wisdom to treat your toys nicely or they'll break and you won't have them any more.
Sincerely,
A Disgruntled Skeptic.
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