Tuesday, July 18, 2006

God Fucked Up

I was sitting on the toilet last night, and I thought to myself, Man, God really fucked up. Well, He either fucked up, or He's got a really perverse sense of humour.

So, I decided to have another chat. I rang him up on the bright red phone that was wired directly to Heaven. His extension, by the way, is 999.

"Heaven. St. Peter speaking."

"Yeah, this is Greg. Put me through to God."

"God's in a meeting right now, can I have him call you back?"

"Uh, this is kind of urgent. Can you pull him out of his 'meeting'?"

"Sorry, he's in with Laozi, the Buddha, and the Emetic Sage; they're having their weekly debate session."

"Oh for fuck's sake, I know what this meeting is about. This 'debate' is just an excuse to sit around and get pissed on nectar. C'mon Peter, put me through."

"You know I can't." He sounded scared. "God doesn't like being interrupted. You know that!"

"Look, I'll take full responsibility. You know God digs me."

"Not after your last published dialogue. He came off looking pretty lame."

"Look," I bargained. "What if I can score you some sweet nectar? From Moses' own private stash. It's delicious...."


"That-a-boy! Deal!"


Peter put me through, and I heard the phone ringing. After seven times seven rings, it picked up.

"God here."

In the background I could hear riotous laughter, and then the Buddha exclaiming, "This nectar kicks ass!"

"God, it's Greg. Beam me up."

"Oh ko, you want me to beam you up, eh?"

"Yeah, c'mon, no hard feelings. I need to talk."

"You pusillanimous pissant piss pot. You want to talk, eh? How about you feel my wrath, instead?"

"You know what they always say: 'to forgive, divine'."

God seemed to deflate, his righteous wrath diminished. " Yeah. Yeah, they do say that."

"There's a lad."

"Alright, come on up."

I am transmogrified into Heavenly ectoplasm, and find myself in God's private study. The Emetic Sage is languishing on a velvet couch, Laozi is sitting on a divan by a cozy fire, and the Buddha is in lotus position on the oriental carpet until he falls over and spills his nectar. They're all holding pewter tankards of nectar, and are all pissed to the gills.

"Well, well, well, me foin friend." God staggers over and clasps a comradely arm across my shoulders. His breath reeks of nectar and... what is that? Pork rinds? God is a closet swine freak!

I move a step away, try to find some fresh air. "Hey God, what's up?"

"Have some nectar!" and he presses a tall foaming tankard into my hand.

"Thankee, thankee kindly." I take a sip, and be damned if the stuff isn't delicious. "Oooo, that's nice," I say, and take another gobful.

"'course it's nice!" God roars. "By the brass balls of Beelzebub, you won't find nectar like that on Earth."

"'coursh it's nishe..." the Buddha mumbles from the floor.

"Man, that dude is snockered," I observe, taking another pull from the tankard.

"Yes, for a man of such girth and plenitude, he's quite the lightweight. So," God says. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Well," I say. "I was sitting on the can last night, and I realized that you fucked up! Well, either you fucked up, or you've got a really perverse sense of humour."

"Here we go again! Now what? Are you never satisfied, my little child?"

"Well, you don't know what it's like! You've never had to take a shit! I was sitting on the can, not thinking about much, when I realized what I was doing. I was squeezing solid waste out of a hole in my body. I mean, what the fuck!? At least when plants, for example, give off waste, it's lovely clear fresh oxygen. Humans squeeze noxious, stanky, odiferous, sulfuric, nasty shit out of holes in our bodies. Now, that's either a serious design flaw, or you thought it'd be pretty funny for us to go squatting around in our own filth."

God looked serious for a moment. Then a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Then he grinned, a wide, shit-eating grin if you will. Then he burst out laughing, huge guffaws that racked his frame. He slapped me on the shoulder companionably. "You noticed that, eh? That was a good one, yeah?"

"Quite," I responded dryly.

"Oh sure, I could have made it so you processed energy without any need to eliminate wastes, but I was in a mood that day. You should see yourselves, the proud intellectual inheritors of the universe, squatting on your haunches and dropping steaming piles of poo wherever you go. It's hilarious!" And he was off on another laughing jag.

"Yeah, real funny." I refilled my tankard.

God was in a jovial mood now -- apparently with his cosmic joke about the steaming poo he felt he had paid back my insults. "Dancing girls!" he ordered forth.

"And another thing...." I started, building up to complain further.

"Not now, son! Now is the time for dancing!"

Lilith came forth, clad only in the sheerest diaphanous silks. Her hair was long and black and heavy, and cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. The shadows of her breasts were heavy and full, and dark nipples poked through the material like thumbs on a midget. Her waist was tiny, and flared out to wide child-bearing hips.

She began to dance, and it was a slow, undulating dance, a dance that was old when the world was young. It recalled the Serpent in the Garden, the tease of forbidden knowledge, the tease of forbidden pleasure. God slowly circled her, moving clockwise, his arms raised, his fingers clicking. From the shadows, strains of music pealed forth,a clarinet and accordian and cymbals. It was a slow and sensuous version of Hava Nagila.

Lilith continued to undulate while God kicked up his heels. His movements were a masculine counterpoint to Lilith's feminine wiles. And then He began to sing in a low rumbling voice. Lilith accompanied him in a sultry alto duet.

Let's rejoice.
Rejoice and be happy.
Let's sing.
Sing and be happy.

Awake, awake, brothers!
With a happy heart.

When they sang 'Awake, brothers!', the Buddha roused himself from the floor. Laozi and the Emetic Sage rose as well and they began to move. Several more scantily clad girls emerged from the shadows and joined the dance. At the end of every line sung, the dancers clinked tankards and drank a draught.

The music began to pick up tempo, the dancers matching. Their robes swirled as they turned and twirled and kicked up their heels. Nectar was quaffed, and as much spilled to the floor in great swaths. And as the tempo increased, so did my passion. This was music and dance that was not meant for mortal Man. It spoke to something preternaturally old deep in the recesses of my brain and blood.

And then I saw her, off in a corner. She was nude and alabaster of face and limb. She writhed and undulated on a bed of cushions, beckoning me with smoldering hazel eyes, the colour of harvests and home and hearth. I heeded the music and the pull of her magic, and hied thither to lose myself in her billowy softness.

And in the distance I could hear God as he sang, Let's rejoice. Rejoice and be happy.


Jocular Schlemiel said...

Have you not heard of the book of DEUTORONOMY?

Chapter 28, Verse 14?

And God wept for his children. He understood the suffering his people had endured, and gaveth them baby wipes. And with the wiping of each bottom, the children of Israel rejoiced.

El Tabachnikof said...

God took the joke too far when he gave us offspring. You really have nothing to complain about until you have to manage the poop of others! And let me tell you, it's not always as nicely formed as you might expect either.

DiVaD sAiRf said...

If not for God's gift of excrement, we would be in world where there are no flaming bags o' shite on an old man's porch...no fart jokes...no monkeys flinging shite at some unsuspecting zoo keeper...No Biff slamming into a manure truck... a world without shite is world without humour. Besides, without shite, we would not have this opportunity to think about why we are made the way we are.

Anonymous said...

Ha, story of poo.

First of all, I love the word diaphanous. It's a beautiful word.

Buddha being drunk is very funny. Cause I can see it.

It's good to know that there is dancing in heaven. Many Christians believe they only dance in hell. Wherever there's dancing, that's where I will be.

Loved the description of the dance...a dance that was old when the world was young That phrase made me wistful.

I really liked this story. Well done.

El Tabachnikof said...

Top ten reasons why man must poop!

10. What would we do with all that extra space in the bathroom?
9. Many of mans great inventions probably wouldn't have been thought up without the ceramic throne.
8. What the heck would we do with prune juice??
7. The flux capacitor would never have been discovered had doc Brown not hit his head on the toilet.
6. Thousands of people who work for pampers would be out of work.
5. The whoopie cushion just wouldn't be funny anymore.
4. We would need to find another way to break up the workday.
3. We would have no place to keep our newspapers and magazines.
2. thousands of jobs lost at the Charmin factory.
1. Where else would we go when we simply don't want to face the world!!

bittersweet said...

I think this story is beautiful. I wish you'd write a book. I'd definitely buy it and read it.

emetic sage said...

el tabachnikof - first of all, what's with that name? you sound like some kind of strange offspring between a russian jew and a colombian drug lord.

well, you and divad make some good points about the value of poo, but again i ask: have you ever really thought about what goes on in squeezing a large one out?

fresh - glad you dug it. while i can appreciate the value of a dance, notice that greg didn't participate. he felt compelled to fornicate instead.

bittersweet - glad to see you made the jump into some commenting. now if only you'd write up some of your own stories. glad you liked it...

pog mo thoin said...

If we didn't have bowel movements, then how would we progress from Freud's oral to anal stage? Freud was a fraud? Ok, I accept that. But I have another item for El Tabachnikof's list

What happens the magazine industry? Dr.'s offices can't keep it afloat.

Hotwire said...

'After seven times seven rings' was a beautiful touch!

emetic sage said...

thanks, hotwire - i wanted to throw a little revelations in for flavour...

Angryatgod said...

@ emetic sage:
this post reminds me of me when I was very pissed at God for helping Rey Mysterio when I missed it. I think He is laughing at me for realizing it too late. I can imagine him going "HAHAHAHA!! She missed Rey Mysterio wrestling and being victorious~" He clearly has it out for me, as well as a sick sense of humor.

The artist formerly known as AngryatGod said...

I recant my prior comment.