“You’ll claim on the insurance?”
“No, it’s an act of God.”
“Bit of a wimpy act for God. Hardly pestilence or deluge. What was he thinking?”
“Probably absentmindedly scratching an itch. I’m sure he wouldn’t intentionally knock a small tree over onto a café in little old Cromer.”
“Used to be we blamed the devil for the bad stuff.”
“Yeah, when did God go rogue?”
“Perhaps you could convince the insurance company it was Satan. After all, who’d believe his word against God’s?”
George and Geoff considered the question over a slurp on their lattes.
“The insurance company,” they concluded in unison.
Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.