[ WP ] You are an all powerful god , but you are not all knowing . In fact , you do n't even know you 're a god .

It was a nice novelty. I mean, it saved me a lot of money on liquor, but red wine was starting to get boring. A nice chardonnay would have been nice at least, VB would have been a lot better. Long story short, I touch water, wine, boom, like that Jesus guy did back when he was getting nailed. I mean, yeah it's strange, and I have a wine enterprise at my fingertips, but even if I touch a container filled with water it just straight turns into wine. My latest attempt had me simply deserting the cloth covered glass on my kitchen counter. I called up my mates Damo and Stevo, seeing if they wanted to discuss this crazy shit going on with my hands. 
 
 `` Wan na meet down the at the pub?'' I asked them over the phone. 
 
 `` Ye cunt, only if ya shouting'', was their reply, no variation between the two. 
 
 I sigh, chuck on my joggers and make for my door, but to my surprise, as I'm reaching for the handle, someone knocks. Skeptical, I respond, `` Who's there?'' 
 
 No response. 
 
 `` If you do n't respond, you're gon na taste sweet Aussie timber.'' 
 
 No response. Well, we can play their little game. 
 
 I grab the cricket bat from my entry and clasp my right hand around its decaying rubber grip. 
 
 `` Last warning'', I say. 
 
 No response again. 
 
 I swing open the door and prepare to strike, only to be met with the face of some pasty white dudes in metal t-shirts and slashed jeans. 
 
 `` If this is some sort of religious cult shit you cunts can get right the fuck outta here.'' 
 
 The pair of them simply smiled. Had I known these guys? I mean I did play in a rock band during high school, but it was n't no emo metal crap. 
 
 `` Do I know you lads?'' 
 
 The pair just smiled. Gee, these guys were seriously being assholes. 
 
 `` We've come to collect your soul, you unworthy husk of flesh'', one smirks. 
 
 These guys, what the fuck. One goes to grab me, but I back-step and avoid his grapple. 
 
 `` RIGHT OF SELF DEFENSE MOTHERFUCKER'', I yell as I swing my bat, which connects with his head, resulting in a sickening *crack* before collapsing to the ground. 
 
 The second one turns to me, with a look of shock, `` Scram motherfucker'' I command. 
 
 A look of shock quickly turns to confidence, as the remaining one steps back and murmurs something, small flames materializing in his hands. Did I just assault a magician? But that thought quickly disappeared as he hurled the small red masses at me, my batter skills quickly taking effect, as I block the tiny orbs of heat. My attackers confidence quickly turns to fear, as I swing my burning mass of high-school sports memories at my magician foe, setting his clothes ablaze. Oh shit. Panicking, I run back into the house and grab a jug of water from the fridge, and throw it on him. Much to my dismay, I had turned the water into wine, which in turn, made him go up like Australia Day fireworks. My foe crumpled to the ground in a squirming inferno, when flames died down, what was left was just dust swept out into the wind. 
 
 `` Fucking magicians'', I murmur to myself, `` Cirque de' go fuck yourself.'' 
 
 I call the police to come pick up the other guy laying unconscious on my doorstep. Do n't want to leave the boys waiting. 
 

