Three all nighters and a can of RedBull had brought him to a conclusion.

He had examined the entire species and all its reported flaws. That was the first day and night. During the second he had diven deeper into these flaws and found that they were invented by imbeciles. He couldn’t say that though - they were God’s children after all - so during the third night, he got out a dictionary.

Some purple prose, worthless words, lengthy lines later, he had finally written his statement. This was the pile of crap he was about to confront God with. This was the pile of purple prose he hoped to convince him of.

They can’t be improved. God, you made them, so that’s why they’re already perfect. In the mirror of the smelly waiting room bathroom, he had been practicing his speech, practicing what he was about to say before handing over his paper. He put on a decent amount of lip balm as well, as he was about to kiss some ass in order to save his own. God didn’t like those with a different opinion. He fired them from their internship and then sent them through Hell’s fire as well. Unpleasant. He put on some more lip balm before exiting the bathroom.

“Sir?”

“Ah, yes son. What did you come up with, huh?”

God put on his glasses -yes, even He can’t see shit sometimes- and gently, but firmly grabbed his statement out of his palms. The intern muttered some of his well prepared words but to no effect: God was reading, not listening. No, God can’t multitask.

He read slowly, with an almost painful tempo. The intern started falling asleep but was shaken awake by God’s sudden Mmmmmmmm… yup, yup yup yup.

“So what do you think, sir?”

“I think your opinion is garbage and you should just die.”

I should have put some lip balm on the paper as well, the intern thought. He didn’t know what to say, so didn’t talk.

“Kidding!”

The intern forced a laugh, louder and louder until God slapped him. Softly, but still: he slapped him.

“It’s still really bad though, but no need for death.”

“So what do you suggest?” said the intern.

God seemed to hesitate for a moment.

“I propose you,” he pointed at and eventually touched the interns forehead, “go fucking die! HAHHAHA”

His joke fell flat, as if it came crashing down from heaven onto your plate.

“Your joke fell flat” it just came out of his mouth. He laughed to disguise his fear.

God didn’t.

God grabbed the intern by his collar and threw him out. He came crashing down from heaven, onto some medieval person’s plate.

The medieval person stormed away. “I have too much on my plate!”, he said, giving birth to the famous saying.

This is its origin story.