Dean teaches God how to dance...
God watched curiously as Dean made odd, jerky movements with his arms to the 'beat' of the music pounding through their motel room. She had seen him do similar, smaller things while driving, but never had he done this. The motions intrigued her. She wondered how doing such a thing would be of benefit.
"Dean," she started after several moments of watching, "what are you doing?"
"Dancing!" he cackled giddily.
"Dancing…" God repeated the word thoughtfully. "I would very much like to attempt 'dancing,' Dean."
Dean bounced over to her, though she expected that this bouncing motion was a part of dancing. He held out his hand to her, and she took it appreciatively after noting to bounce. Then, he pulled her to an area of the room that was clear of furniture, and released her petite hand.
"Alright, let's start with something simple," Dean said, "The Shopping Cart."
He then proceeded to take a few steps forward, his balled hands held out in front of him. Then, his right hand reached for the air in front of him. His wrist bent, and his arm swung downwards before returning to its previously balled position in front of him. He then repeated these steps, but he moved his left hand instead of his right.
"Alright, now you try."
God mimicked him.
"Not bad."
Continuing her movement, God asked, "Why is it called 'the Shopping Cart?'"
"Because it makes you look like the president," Dean said, his voice thick with sarcasm. God, of course, did not recognize sarcasm.
"What does the leader of a powerful country have to do with dancing?"
Dean turned off the music and shook his head with a sigh. "This is why church is so boring…"
"Sorry?"
Another sigh. "Nevermind…"