[off the cuff by Sha’Tara]
One day on earth, it so happened that two people were praying.
One was in a Christian chapel, on his knees. He was praying for God to destroy all Muslims. He was very sincere, as sincere as he knew how; as sincere as he’d seen his preacher being sincere the Sunday before when asking the faithful to pray to God for the destruction of Islam.
Almost at opposite points on the planet, another man was praying on his mat, careful to kneel down and bow all the way to the floor from his prayer mat, careful to face Mecca. He even had his GPS on to make sure. His request to Allah was much in line with the Christian’s request, that God should destroy all the enemies of Islam, particularly all Christians.
God, to that point, on that day, was having a great time. He’d scored, not one, but two, holes in one on the Great Divine House lawn golf course. He’d beaten both Michael and Jesus. As I am saying, a great, great day. Then he opened his iphone to check on the incoming requests – he didn’t always trust his staff to deal properly with the more difficult ones. Try to imagine his chagrin to see the two aforementioned prayers flashing on the screen in front of his eyes. They had a priority one rating.
As you probably assume, God isn’t given to profanity; he doesn’t care that much for it even in lesser beings though he tolerates the odd infraction from the earth creatures. He knows them well and if he didn’t make allowances for them, he also knows only too well that his arch enemy, the guy with the endless fracking and endless spills that burn forever, would get all of them for himself. But in this instance, God let out a typical Earthian swear, a rather common one, “Ah shit! How stupid can these people be, huh?”
“What’s up dad?” asks Jesus, who’d just parked the divine cart and had ambled over. “I haven’t heard you swear in public in a long time. It’s from earth, right? What’d they do now?”
“Have a look!” And he hands the phone over to the Son. “I really shouldn’t pay any attention to this crap, really. But if I don’t do something, this is going to be more spam and I can’t very well block, like, five billion people from that planet now, can I? There’s the odd tweet in there that is actually legitimate.
“I see what you mean, dad,” says Jesus handing the phone back. “What would a person have to do to teach them the rudimentary lessons of life on a tiny world with no place to go? I dunno, I did my part back when and I’m not going back there, read my lips. I think your really fucked up when you made those critters, dad. What were you on, anyway?”
“Hey, son, watch the language. Reality check!” and the old man slaps his son across the left cheek. “This is heaven, not earth. Remember one of the cardinal rules, at least: honour your father and mother. Well, at least honour your father. And you’re not too old for the soap treatment.”
“Sorry dad. I know it’s a touchy subject. So whatcha gonna do about those tweets?”
“What am I gonna do? I’ll tell ya. I’m of a mind to answer both their requests, on the spot.”
“Really? On the spot? How do you plan on doing it?” Jesus looks very excited at the prospect of finally getting his revenge.
“Well, maybe not on the spot. I have to think. What’s the main concern down there now? War? Genocide? What?”
“Climate change! They’re all mostly focused on that at the moment. Their doomsday prophets are faking for, the reactionaries faking against. It’s big overtime on the Internet, poised to go viral any day.”
“OK, climate change it is. I’m going to throw the works at them: earthquakes, tsunamis, tornados, lightning storms, floods, droughts, cave-ins, volcanos, golf-ball-size hail, meteorites, sun flares, and I’m going to kill everything in the oceans this time. I want to see world wide plagues from rotting fish. And I want to see some real famine, not this piddly African stuff. I want to see Mexico City, Riyadh, Jeddah and New York totally starved out and overrun by rats and cockroaches.”
“But what about those that aren’t claiming to be ours, like those social Darwinists, communists, atheists, agnostics, pagans and all the others with their ancient religions? What happens to them?”
“I should care about those? They were all going to hell anyway, and they were all going to die, right? That changes nothing for them. Just a change of direction for those that call on my Name with their ignorant tweets. I’m fed up to here with ‘em.”
“Who’s going to be in charge of the fireworks, dad?”
“You seem a mite eager boy. I dunno… I am thinking of teaming up Raphael, Gabriel and of course, Michael.” Jesus pouts. “OK, I hate to see a grown man cry. The show is yours. You have one earth year to get everything ready for the big launch. And don’t forget, I want a pavilion on the moon with all amenities. Slave girls; ambrosian ales. And I want to see everything to the end, however long it takes.”
“Won’t they wonder why you’re not answering their tweets, I mean prayers, in the meantime?”
“Why should they? You know as well as I they’re used to that. But this time, oh yeah baby I’m going to answer their prayers, and they’ll know it’s me doing it.
“We need an impromptu meeting. Get some people together. Don’t forget those earth physicists, you know the ones who invented those weapons of mass destruction? Bring in a couple genocidal maniacs too. Their ideas will come in handy.