God: What’s for dinner, I’m starved!
Jesus: The fire’s barely lit, you’ll have to wait for the coals to heat up.
God: Well hurry up before the meat goes bad.
Jesus: There’s plenty of time. Let’s see. Blood victims, blood victims. Let. Me. See. There’s a woman just gave birth.
God: Newly emaciated? I’ll pass.
Jesus: A corpulent professional gentleman.
God: Too much cholesterol. I’m supposed to be following a more Mediterranean diet. Anybody from Sicily or thereabouts?
Jesus: A jaundiced politician and a chlorotic nun. Oh wait, a nice baby about eleven days.
God: Veal? Yummy, but isn’t that still a bit too controversial?
Jesus: No no, not at all. It’s much more humanely raised these days. Besides, food is food. It’s a beastly thing and nothing else. It simply doesn’t matter.
God: [With pluterperfect imperturbability] Well that sounds good then. Have got to eat something to save my life.
Jesus: [In a moderate and measured tone] At the risk of your life.