It's the little things that exasperate God with us...
God asks St. Francis, patron of nature and flowers, "What happened to all the beautiful flowers that he worked so hard on to be self-sustaining?"
"It's a tribe that settled there called the Suburbanites. They exterminated your flowers as weeds to replace them with grass."
"Grass? But that doesn't attract butterflies and bees, only worms. It doesn't endure well. It's boring."
"Nevertheless, they work hard to keep it that way. They fertilize the grass every spring while poisoning any other plants on their lawns."
"At least it grows fast in spring, that should make the Suburbanites happy."
St. Francis winces. "Apparently not, Lord. They cut it regularly, sometimes twice a week."
"And bale it like hay?"
"Most of them rake it up and put it in bags for disposal."
"They sell it?"
"No, Lord. They pay others to take it away."
God sighs. "I want to be sure I understood you correctly. You're saying they fertilize grass so that it will grow, but when it does grow, they cut it and pay others to take it away?"
"Yes, Lord."
God throws up his hands. "Well at least they must be relieved when summer comes along so that the lack of rain slows the growth."
"Actually, Lord, they pay money to water it so that they can continue to cut it and have it carted away."
God strains to look down on this madness he hears described. "At least they kept some of the trees. Those grow leaves in the spring and provide shade in the summer. Then they fall to the ground in the fall to form a natural blanket, one of my more brilliant ideas if I say so myself."
"Actually, Lord, the Suburbanites rake up the leaves, and then pay to have them taken away as well."
"How to the protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter, and moisture in the soil?"
"After paying to have the leaves thrown away, then then go out and pay for mulch, which they then spread around in place of the leaves."
"Mulch? I don't remember creating that."
"They make it from trees cut down and then grind up."
There is a long silence (which lasts a long time in Heaven) as God just blinks at him, and then looks down on the world again in disbelief. Finally, He waves it off. "ENOUGH! I don't want to think about it anymore. St. Catherine, you're in charge of the Arts. What are you going to show us tonight?"
"A movie called Dumb and Dumber, Lord. It's a story about..."
"Never mind, I think I just heard the entire plot from St. Francis."