So what kind of muse suits you, Mr. Particular?”

And the man lifted up his eyes in amazement, “you’re Jewish?”

And God laughed just like Buddy Hackett. “My only begotten Son was Jewish. Sometimes I’m Jewish. So what, then, you were expecting, Irish?”

“Well, yes, or maybe Italian.”

And God said, “You want to talk stereotypes? Somebody already wrote The Godfather also The Barrytown Trilogy. So, now all of a sudden you don’t want to make a deal because I’m Jewish?”

“No, no, of course not. I was just surprised. I want to go through with it. We just need to clarify the terms.”

And God said, “So talk. I’ll listen.”

“God,” he said, “ I need something exotic, not pornographic; something stylish, not flashy; something classy, not pushy.”

And God said, “That’s some prose rhythm you got working there, Kiddo. All right, all right. You think you know best? Have it your way. Man! Saul Bellow I didn’t have this much trouble with. And you I’m warning. Anymore kevetching, Mister, and you’ll be working for The National Inquirer. You’ll be chasing stretch limos. You’ll be doing a piece on the President’s putz.

The man lifted up his eyes and beheld a brilliant white light streaming through the transom above his door. Immediately he heard knocking. Heaving himself up off his battered knees, he limped to the door, and opened it a crack. He saw the face of the Angel of the Lord who had appeared to him, and he threw open his door. She was without wings and clothed in a navy blue tropical wool Donna Karan suit, nylons, and high heels. Her makeup was so subtle as to be invisible: A light rose blush on her cheeks, pale pink gloss on her lips, no eye shadow. Her right hand held a buttery leather attaché case. She smelled faintly of jasmine. As a would-be writer, the man had imagined that he would know what he needed when he saw it. He was looking at it now.

He took a step forward. “You again? Thank God!”

She held her ground. “Just between us girls, there’s been a little downsizing up . . . .” and gestured with her blue eyes toward heaven. “I’m moonlighting.” She smiled and tossed her wavy blond hair. It floated. “In fact, I just got the call. Tonight I’m the Doubleday Muse. May I come in?”