God wonders why people don't get his sense of humor? Dude, you're God—aren't you supposed to know, like, everything?

That's the ineffability, Matt. We mortals just can't eff it.

So Michael's dead, right?

Nikita was wearing a black cashmere sweater, black floppy hat, black skirt Dior length, flat boots and an equally black jacket and she kept her eyes lowered as she wallowed in her mourning. Little Sarah wore a pink onecy outfit with bows and flowers, and a hooded coat and innocently gurgled at her desperate mom.

Nikita embraced Sarah trying hard to hold on to her sanity, she was loosing her mind and was doing it with aplomb, which was not customary to the pretty woman.

She may be loosing her mind with aplomb, but she looks *fabulous*!

He wore forest green jeans with weathered frays fashionably strewn about his powerful legs and a crisp starched light color shirt that enhanced the beauty of his features.

Michael may be dead, but he looks *fabulous*! I wonder if this author has been taking lessons from Laurell Hamilton.

There's also a bit about how Michael realizes that everyone he's ever had to kill was just part of God's plan, so it's okay! but it's actually less funny and more sickening, so I'm not going to quote it.

Michael was then granted the ‘cliché’ of a lifetime by being allowed to meet the one person, dead or alive, he wanted most to interview. Those present such as Sarah and Chuck waited with baited breath for Michael’s choice. At their turn, they had met Mahatma Ghandi and Mata Hare and wondered whom the man would want to face, after all the others in the room also met diverse luminaries from history.

...Mata Hari?

I've been waiting all these years to be granted the cliche of a lifetime -- and now that I think of it, that may be it.

BATED breath!!! ARGH! She found my button! And I don't mean the joy button, either.

A prince, at his own funeral, is going to be dressed in frayed green jeans. Huh. I would so have screwed that up.

So, is loosing (argh! LOSING!) her mind not customary, or loosing it dressed so well?

I'm assuming the aplomb refers to her fashion sense and not to the wallowing mourning, or the squirming, pink baby.

Who dresses a child in pink for a funeral?? And why is Nikita's sanity stored in said baby? Or the baby's onecy outfit. Or perhaps the bow. If it's small.

I'm glad you skipped the (even more) sickening part.

Who dresses a child in pink for a funeral??

The same kind of people who wear yellow, because "black is so depressing." Said by my sister-in-law, at my father-in-law's funeral, with agreement by her husband, my hubby's brother.

She's a baby girl. Of course she has to wear pink.

And she's a touching emblem of continuing life and love etc., so of course she has to be in a bright, cheerful color.

Yup, I could write the badfic whenever I like.

I'm just trying to picture her grappling with a squirming ball of sanity that's trying to slip through her fingers.

Like you lose your mind all at once, anyway... What?