Monday, 18 August 2014

A Short Story For Creationists

It was the early days of the Earth, God had just created man and was watching from his window in his large white office, at the top of his large white building which hovered in the sky perched on a cloud.  The planet was a utopia, every man was a King, every woman a Queen, every child a Prince or Princess and all of his other creatures were either starters or main courses for mankind, the Lord’s greatest creation.
            With his head slumped in his hands, his long white beard spilling over his palms dangling around his wrists, God watches discontent with how everything is going with man.  He has given them intelligence, imbued them with a soul and conscious thought but they’re lazy and arrogant and self-fulfilling.  They are not what he expected, not made in his image, more an image of the brat he was when he half-assed made the other planets in the Galaxy, none of which (of course) could sustain life.
            Knocking twice on the large white door the Arch-Angel Gabriel waits for the call to come before turning the perfect pearl handle springing the latch and entering the room casting a brilliant, truth-seeking light through the white corridors of the impressively white monolith of a building.
            ‘Have you seen them all down there?’ says God poking on the window with his index finger.
            ‘I haven’t sir, I haven’t had the time really, is it marvelous?  Is it a sight to behold?  The greatest creation of your existence?’
            ‘They’re ignorant, I give them intelligence.  I give them the wonder of an inquisitive mind and what do they do with it?’
            ‘Nothing sir?’ shoots Gabriel.
            ‘You bet your ass Gabe, nothing.  Look at that one.  The entire world at his feet, a realm of infinite possibilities and potential achievements and all he can do is play with his prick.’ moans God.
            ‘He does seem to be really going for it.’ Gabriel adds studying the primitive man whacking away at himself.
            ‘Dicks and cunts.  That’s all they’re involved in, day in, day out.  All they think about is their dicks and their cunts, all the do is screw and tug and suck.  And if they’re not thinking with their dicks and their cunts then they’re talking out their bungholes trying to impress someone who has a dick or a cunt.’
            Sensing God is coming to the point of the problem Gabriel puts a hand on his bosses shoulder, a sympathetic linger that will allow him to know he understands, he’s there, he’s available for promotion whenever the G-Man sees fit.
            ‘Are you,’ Gabriel treads carefully ‘sir, excuse me if I’m way off but are you feeling this tiniest bit…’
            ‘Neglected, unloved, forgotten, unappreciated, spurned, abandoned, you name it Gabe and I’m it… I’m a fucking wallflower up here.  Not one of them have so much as looked to the sky and questioned how did I get hereWhere is hereWhat is the meaning of life?’
            ‘And what is the meaning of life, sir?’
            ‘To love me,’ God moans ‘they’re little more than toys to me, pets, not as difficult to house train as others but pets nonetheless… so why do they not even give me the slightest ounce of attention?!!’
            The roar of the voice of God shakes the building in its foundations, the chandeliers rattle in their fittings, the clouds bloat and turn black instantly before a clap of thunder and a bolt of lightning flashes in the brooding sky but still mankind plays with and fucks themselves blind.  On his feet God paces back and forth around the office, his sandals clapping against the white tile flooring.
            ‘I put bones down there you know, great big bones from carnivorous animals and have made it look like they’ve been there for millions of years.’
            ‘Very good sir.’
            ‘I figured they’d explore and dig and build and in doing so they’d discover them, and name them and ponder how old the planet is and how they got their and turn to the sky and know my name.  Know my face.’
            ‘But they haven’t?’ Gabriel’s voice winces.
            ‘You better believe they haven’t.  Eat, sleep, shit, screw.  That’s all they know.  One of them even tried to fuck their own food, I watched him hollow out a coconut before ploughing his turkeyneck into it.’
            ‘They’re all animals sir.’
            ‘They are.’ God cries ‘Oh, how right you are Gabe.  I’ve been thinking about going back to the lab and making a few who have knowledge…you know…of me…’
            ‘They’d spread the word, they’d come to worship me Gabe and I’d feed them knowledge and wisdom.’
            ‘They’d reject you sir.’
            ‘They would not.’
            ‘They would, you’ve given them everything too easy and they’ve rejected everything except for the most basic of primitive instincts.’ Gabriel says ‘You’ve got to make it so that they discover you all by themselves.’
            Slowly, God walks back to the window.  An orgy is taking place, dicks and cunts and bungholes getting worked, everywhere.
            ‘Go on.’
            ‘You’ve given them a utopia Lord, you’ve given them the Earth and the stars and all they want is orgasms.  You should give them something to lament upon, something that will make them turn their noses to the sky and ask, why?  You should give them plague and famine and unpleasantness and sorrow and death and aids and murder and rape and war and when the world is a simmering shit-hole filled with cum and puke they’d never want to fuck in let alone live on they’ll ponder where it all went wrong, and where they came from and why man has turned on man, killed brother, raped sister and ate daughter.’
            ‘I like that.  Do you think we could get started on that this afternoon?’ God asks.
            ‘It’s already started sir.’
            Pointing towards the ground Gabriel’s finger charts a path along a continent to a hill.  The lightning spat from the sky in God’s rage has split a tree in two.  Thick branches lay discarded everywhere.  Raising one up above his head a man walks across a plush green field where a blonde couple are fucking.  With an almighty swing of the branch he caves the back of the male’s head in, brains drop out like puss from a pimp as the body goes limp and falls off the woman, blood spilling and seeping everywhere.  Screaming she goes to rise but the branch swinging murderer is quicker than she is, and in an instant he’s on her, pushing up tight inside of her.  Three onlookers rush to the river and quickly baptize each other in the name of their newly discovered creator.
            Sitting by his window in the clouds with a milky coffee in his hand God watches as his people descend into the depths of their own soul and in an attempt to justify their own behaviour point their nostrils to the sky and ask God why, why have you made me this way?  The voices fill the room through a dozen discreetly placed speakers, millions of people all wanting to talk to God, who has decided he no longer wants to listen.