Hissing & Rattling 

Wednesday, June 02, 2004

God is a funny man.

He created all sorts of matter.

On the first Monday of Creation, God was really excited about his project.

"I'm gonna make so many tractors, all of Christiandom will be ploughed!" he told the angels.

"Results," demanded the other angels, "Let's see the results."

On Tuesday, so many tractors littered the streets of Heaven that the angels almost voted him off the Board.

Chants of "Down with God! Down with God!" echoed in the Halls of the Blessèd. Beelzebub took off his halo and banged it on the table. His microphone fell off and the translator, at a loss, made up some nonsense about killing a pig.

God calmed everyone down by promising to make a few animals the next day.

Bright and early Wednesday morning, God, peering into his omniscience, saw that one day peacocks would roam the earth. He rather liked their now-green, now-blue feathers. And, in his infinite wisdom, he began creating peacocks. Soon a peacock was in the driver's seat of every Heavenly tractor.

Anyone who takes up a new hobby should start with the basics. It doesn't matter if one's new hobby is watching television or knitting. One simply must begin with something less taxing. No crocheting a copy of the Eiffel Tower until after mastering a pair of socks. No Black Adder until one is adept at watching a beginner's television program like Friends. When one stretches their limits, they become discouraged if they don't see results right away.

It was the same with God. Seeing all his peacocks ploughing the fields of Heaven, God was disappointed. He meant to create the peacock with the temperament of a tiger and the behaviour of teapot. Now he was stuck with Amish peacocks.

His stress level jumped to alarming rates. That night he binged on Twinkies and Rolo Cakes. Then, once on the scale, his horror increased: 5 whole pounds. Good God! Without his svelte shape, he might not make the cheerleading squad this year.

God's mom, the Mother of Heaven, knocked on the bathroom door. "Honey? Are you ok in there?" She knew something was wrong. When she picked the lock with a hairpin, God hastily flushed the toilet and, in a flash, threw down the toilet cover and sat with an innocent air. Not again, thought the Virgin. She phoned the therapist, got her son an appointment, and then phoned Heaven to say he wouldn't be in the next day.

On Thursday, God's psychiatrist listened to God's insecurities about creating.

It was true, God could not not make animals. His livelihood depended on creating beings to worship him. He had to continue creating. At the same time, complex beings were lowering his self-esteem.

The good doctor scribbled bacterium on his prescription. Then he scribbled it out. Bacteria were too small. A little cilium might frustrate God. It would also strain his eyes. The doctor stared at the rug for a moment, then he wrote down snake.

God went home with the conviction that the snake was something he could do. A snake had neat scales. Yet a snake didn't have feet or toenails or knees. Plus all snakes have the personalities of snakes.

God made a whole load of snakes. Spitting snakes, hissing snakes, sidewinding snakes, water snakes, dancing snakes, and snakes with funny markings on their skin. The only constant by which God directed his vision was that the snake should have no legs.

He was liking this snake. He stayed up all Thursday night creating snakes. He slept in Friday morning. Then Friday night he stayed up all night again, busy in the lab with the snakes. Saturday was the same story.

Snakes overran Heaven. The peacocks squashed a few of them with their tractors. Late Saturday night, the Archangel Gabriel and Heaven's SWAT team broke into God's house with a warrant for his arrest. As they handcuffed God, the Virgin cried in the background, repeating over and over again that God never had trouble with the law before.

In the end, they couldn't charge God with anything. He was held in a jail cell with a few bearded biker types for 24 hours (that was Sunday). When he got out, squirming his way past the reporters God promised he was through with snakes. He mentioned something about moving on to crickets.

Has God changed his ways? Nope. 'Fraid not. He tried legs on the snake. He tried putting a hiss in his snake and then a rattle. He tried snakes with wings and snakes with antlers.

When llamas and dogs began to get too good at avoiding his rattlesnake and when Californians slashed too many of his rattlers with their machetes, he experimented with a rattleless rattlesnake.

Despite this God insists he is law-abiding. He points out that he is not really dabbling in evolution.

God says, "Would a cockroach hiss on its own? No. It needs that extra push that only a frat boy prankster could dream up. That's intelligent design."



Coming soon?

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