|
God blew in last Thursday. At cocktail time. And unannounced as usual (“As a thief in the night,” He likes to say). Partner and I were just mixing up the first round after a hard day and we got out another glass. God was cranky. He’d about had his fill of James Dobson and the Focus on the Family crowd and we talked for a while about what perverted asses they all were. But what was really on His mind was all the end times, Book of Revelation stuff.
“Revelation was meant as a joke, for crissake,” God said as I passed him a second martini. “Me and Gabriel and some of the boys came up with the visuals for that masterpiece at a kegger and mushroom binge on Mt Sinai years ago. We figured it would provide a little dark comic relief for The Big Book when it came out and that at least the stoners would probably get it. We had no idea though that anyone could be dense enough to actually take it seriously. There are some things that are too far off the map for even Me to know.”
It was really getting to Him that people were using Revelation to justify trashing the earth because they thought it was all going to end soon anyway. “I put a lot of thought into the Earth, especially the animals and I think I did a nice job considering that back in those days I was on about the same mental plane as a human 14-year-old. I mean read the Old Testament. Jeeze I could be a prick”
“So there is no way to predict when the end times will come?”, I asked. “No way, Jose,” he replied, toying with his glass. “Sure there is a program for wrapping things up but I’m not tipping my hand on that one. I thought the J-Man and I made that clear with the, ‘no man shall know the hour….’ stuff.”
“But doesn’t all that bad shit going down in the Middle East signify something?”, Partner asked. “Listen,” God said, “it might signify some, ah, shall we say ‘substantial’ adjustments to your lifestyle if you let it get out of hand, and it sure isn’t pleasant for the people living there, but it won’t usher in the End Times. There’s no way to make the clock move any faster on that, and what’s the friggin’ hurry anyway?"
“People are fixated on this end-of-the-world thing,” he continued, clearly annoyed, “and it’s gotta stop. It screws you up in all sorts of ways, it's messing up my creation and whackjobs like Pat Robertson who push this stuff are a real menace. And for the record,” God continued, “It’s not like I’m not trying to help. I spend a lot of time talking to that man but he acts like I’m not even there. He might be listening to someone, but it ain’t me.”
With that He drained His glass and polished off the last of the shrimp dip. “It’s been delightful as always, but I gotta run. Meeting the boyfriend in Antioch at eight.” He grabbed his biker jacket, planted a kiss on Partner’s cheek and gave me a punch on the shoulder. At the door he turned toward us. “Thanks for letting me vent guys. It helps.” And in a puff of Sandalo and Beemer exhaust he was gone.
|
Printer-friendly format
Email this thread to a friend
Bookmark this thread
(1000+ posts)
Send PM |
Profile |
Ignore
