Sunday, March 19, 2006
Thoughts of God
One day, God was walking on the beach. It was early in the morning and he didn't see many people. The waves lapped his feet. Looking left, he admired the seamless horizon and the dipping of the gulls. Then, straight ahead, he saw a man in a backwards baseball cap and T-shirt, but no pants. God didn't say anything as he passed. "Pants MIGHT have covered that man's state of semi-arousal," thought God. He continued walking. He looked to his right and felt inspired by the cutting-edge architecture.
"Glass and blonde wood do match the seashore," thought God. He saw two men with baggy bathing suits, sunglasses, striped T-shirts and flip-flops. They were walking a pair of Corgis.
"That's nice," thought God. He noticed a swimming pool by one of the houses and heard laughter amid the splashing. Glasses tinkled.
"It's early for them to be drinking," he thought. He heard cheering in the distance, bellows of laughter and a chorus of voices saying "Awwwww!"
"Volleyball," thought God. The scent of sun lotion wafted his way as he passed. "Each of them naked," thought God. "Flaccid, however, from what I see. Nothing untoward." He decided to cross the ocean.
All was well over the waters of the deep and by the time he reached Chelsea God was feeling refreshed. He saw the happy faces of the tourists on the London Eye and thought of humming "Rule, Brittania."
It was getting dark. He stepped into a pub.
A football match was on a TV screen above the bar. Behind the bar, a man in a team T-shirt was hitting a woman across the face with the backs of his hands. He hit her right cheek with his left hand and her left cheek with his right. The woman gurgled sobbingly.
"You like that, do you, girl?" said the man. "You like that?"
God saw a little boy in the corner who was moving his eyes from the match to the couple and back again.
God opened the door and walked out. He got on a double-decker bus which let him off at the Thames. He splashed his feet, made his way toward the entrance to the ocean and walked back to Fire Island.
In the little woods between the hot spots he saw a T-shirt draped over a branch, a bathing suit over another and heard and saw two men, one bent over the other. "No love in the voices," thought God. He jumped into the air, out of the little woods and landed about twenty miles north. He went into the window of a house and watched a man typing on a computer. "Why don't you write about my vengeance?" he wanted to say. "Why don't you write about the floods I send, the wars and the pestilence?"
The writer turned and looked at God. "I don't think God works that way," said the writer aloud to himself.
God went back to that summer, ten years before, when the writer sat in the sand at the Fire Island Pines. The naked writer's member pointed at the member of another naked person across from him. God had observed and had thought "This is reckless!" As the two men left to get on the Ferry together, a man began shouting at the other naked men.
"I'm here with my kids!" he shouted. "I'm here with my kids! My kids saw!"
God thought about the angry man and the men denied acceptance and the little witnesses among the adults. He jumped forward into the future and stood again next to the writer.
The writer looked at his computer and thought about the man's kids. "I hope to God they didn't see me," he wrote.
God didn't tell him what he thought.
"Glass and blonde wood do match the seashore," thought God. He saw two men with baggy bathing suits, sunglasses, striped T-shirts and flip-flops. They were walking a pair of Corgis.
"That's nice," thought God. He noticed a swimming pool by one of the houses and heard laughter amid the splashing. Glasses tinkled.
"It's early for them to be drinking," he thought. He heard cheering in the distance, bellows of laughter and a chorus of voices saying "Awwwww!"
"Volleyball," thought God. The scent of sun lotion wafted his way as he passed. "Each of them naked," thought God. "Flaccid, however, from what I see. Nothing untoward." He decided to cross the ocean.
All was well over the waters of the deep and by the time he reached Chelsea God was feeling refreshed. He saw the happy faces of the tourists on the London Eye and thought of humming "Rule, Brittania."
It was getting dark. He stepped into a pub.
A football match was on a TV screen above the bar. Behind the bar, a man in a team T-shirt was hitting a woman across the face with the backs of his hands. He hit her right cheek with his left hand and her left cheek with his right. The woman gurgled sobbingly.
"You like that, do you, girl?" said the man. "You like that?"
God saw a little boy in the corner who was moving his eyes from the match to the couple and back again.
God opened the door and walked out. He got on a double-decker bus which let him off at the Thames. He splashed his feet, made his way toward the entrance to the ocean and walked back to Fire Island.
In the little woods between the hot spots he saw a T-shirt draped over a branch, a bathing suit over another and heard and saw two men, one bent over the other. "No love in the voices," thought God. He jumped into the air, out of the little woods and landed about twenty miles north. He went into the window of a house and watched a man typing on a computer. "Why don't you write about my vengeance?" he wanted to say. "Why don't you write about the floods I send, the wars and the pestilence?"
The writer turned and looked at God. "I don't think God works that way," said the writer aloud to himself.
God went back to that summer, ten years before, when the writer sat in the sand at the Fire Island Pines. The naked writer's member pointed at the member of another naked person across from him. God had observed and had thought "This is reckless!" As the two men left to get on the Ferry together, a man began shouting at the other naked men.
"I'm here with my kids!" he shouted. "I'm here with my kids! My kids saw!"
God thought about the angry man and the men denied acceptance and the little witnesses among the adults. He jumped forward into the future and stood again next to the writer.
The writer looked at his computer and thought about the man's kids. "I hope to God they didn't see me," he wrote.
God didn't tell him what he thought.
# posted by Fredwemyss @ 11:12 PM 
