God Walks In fiction by Dirtydog January 2011 I Dirtydog is hanging around the house in the middle of the day. His car battery is dead and he's waiting for a boost. There comes a knock on the door. He has no doorbell at his trailer. God is there. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Dirtydog. Is he home?" "Speaking." "There's just a thing or two we need to talk about. Mind if I come in?" "Make yourself at home." "Scuse please, where's your washroom?" "First door on the right." God moseys on down the hall, enters the washroom, takes a piss. Washes his hands, or tentacles, or whatever, and returns to the living room. "I hear you ain't been attending church." "That's right," Dirtydog says. "No reason I suppose?" "I don't need a reason. How 'bout a little help with the car battery?" God snaps his fingers. "Go out and try it again." Dirtydog goes outside, after putting on his parka, touk and gloves. It's - 25 C outside, as usual. The starter turns over on the first try and the car is purring. Dirtydog is impressed. He goes back in and talks to God. "So how can I help you? You being the Creator of the Universe and all." "Well, I just think you oughta be showing a little more respect, 'stead of going around saying I don't exist." "You don't. I've had pipe dreams before." "Yeah, well if you wake up in the morning and there's this seven foot high Angel standing beside your bed, you better check yourself for a heartbeat, bud." "That ain't an issue," Dirtydog maintains. "I known all along you got a contract out on me, same as you got a contract on everyone else." "Good, I thought you forgot that or something." "So how am I s'posed to worship some guy got a contract on me? Like a hitman or a judge?" Just then God's cell phone goes off. "Hello, this is He. What? What? Right away." Turns to Dirtydog. "Sorry, got to go. There's a collision between a quasar and a galaxy out in NGC 4263 that has to be looked after. Plus, there's an old lady in Madagascar who's supposed to die today, and doesn't want to. A believer. I'll have to go over and sweet talk her into it. More unpaid overtime." "I really feel for you," Dirtydog says. "Come back anytime."
'Dirtydog', was my 'hook'...and kept me tied to the story... It worked...and as I read further I learned about 'God'... And the relationship the two of them had... And as I read even further, I picked up on the 'satire'..'humor'... It worked...it was a fun read... Ok I'll shat my mouth now...
II Things were quiet for a couple of months. Then Dirtydog got another visitor. "Can I help you?" "Don't worry, I've come for your car." "Well," Dirtydog said, "All things come to an end. Go ahead, take it. Tell God I want another word with Him." "Will do." The Grim Reaper went out, killed the car and disappeared down the street. He had more items on his list. Later that day God dropped by again. "You wanted to see Me?" "Yes, I just wanted to go over some of these Christian gospel things I've been hearing," Dirtdog said. "What about the virgin birth?" "You mean Mary, mother of Jesus?" "Yes. Everyone says Jesus was not born of man, but of God. What do you have to say about that?" "What can I say? We went out, she told me she was a virgin." "Was she?" "How should I know. Anyway, I'm not usually into married women, but I fucked her. She said she wanted it. What am I supposed to do?" "Then she told her husband Joseph about it and it was all right with him?" "Well," God said, "Not completely all right. He went and named My kid after a Mexican." "Okay, okay. Now this virgin Mary, she provided Jesus with a brother, James. Was she still a virgin after that?" "I wouldn't think so," God said. "I was elsewhere. I had a speech to prepare for Muhammad, six centuries later. These things take time, get it?" "Right. Now if Jesus had God for a father, rather than a human father, how could he be of the line of David?" "Easy. We got to talk mixed paternal and maternal lines of descent here, not just fathers. Then it all clicks, get it?" "Thanks, I get it. Just keep that Grim Reaper dude away from my door for a while, okay?" "No problem." "Say, how'd it go with that lady in Madagascar you said you were going to help die?" "She had a real die-hard attitude, you might say," God said. "I had to throw a coronary occlusion at her. You ought to see the way their eyes bulge out when you do that. Then their faces turn blue, they try to scream once or twice but can't really manage it, then they collapse. No problem." "Seems to me You enjoy Your work." "Yeah, everyone's got to have a little fun now and then."
III Again some time went by with no visits from the Creator. Then one night there came a knock on the door. It was Her. Dirtydog let Her in. God was reeking of alcohol this time. Dirtydog was terrified now and got on his knees and prayed. "You can get offa your knees MacDuff," She said in a loud, drunken voice. "But I like the reshpect," She added, slurring her words. Her face had a slightly reptilian look. "What can I help you with," Dirtydog asked, regaining his feet. He was still pretty scared. "Ah shit I just need someone to talk to," She said. "Universe goin' to Hell in a basket and all my fault! Everyone askin me for help and where am I supposed to turn to, you tell me that MacDuff! You tell me that! Jesus Christ!" "Have you tried AA?", Dirtydog volunteered. "Yeah, yeah but just have a look at that. Step 2, came to believe that a Power greater than Myself could restore Me to sanity. Step 3, made a decision to turn My will and My life over to the care of God as I understand Him! How the Hell am I s'posed to do that? I am God!" Dirtydog was stumped by this. "Beats me. How long have you been drunk?" "Last three hundred million years, give or take. Look at all them vicious marine reptiles, all them dinosaurs. Nightmare stuff, has been and still is. Do you think a sober Diety could have come up with all that?" "I really couldn't say," Dirtydog admitted. "But if God is drunk and has been drunk for that long, it would explain a whole lot, to my way of thinking. But I thought that by counting the generations in the book of Genesis and figuring maybe twenty five years per generation, the world was only 6,000 years old." "That's only out by a factor of a million," She said. "Not much by astronomical standards. What do you expect from scribes living in the early Iron Age and depending heavily on oral tradition?" "Don't know," Dirtydog said. "Can I get You another drink? What are You having?" "Scotch on ice, baby," She slurred. "Say, wanna see a Black Hole?" She began hitching up Her skirt seductively. "I'll just pass on that," Dirtydog said hastily. "How'd it go with that quasar - galaxy collision you were mentioning?" "Oh that," She said. "Sweety, there was just a little bitty screw-up and I promise it won't happen again. A being-nothingness inversion smaller than a proton. All the being that was the proton is now massless, and all the nothingness for a distance of a billionth of an angstrom is now matter with the same mass density as a proton. The strong nuclear force is holding all this together for the moment but there's going to be a fusion reaction like you never heard of. I don't know that I'll survive." "The death of God?", Dirtydog asked. "That's right baby, and you don't want to look forward to that. Reason being, you're a figment of My imagination, along with the rest of this universe. If I die, that's the end of everything. Not good. Besides which, I'm pregnant." "How does God give birth?", Dirtydog wanted to know. "That'd be the start of a whole new universe," She said. "These Big Bangs are hard on Me. You think human childbirth is tough?"
my dug is called Slim! Cause he is! He makes a wonderful footstool when I'm watching the Godfather series... 1, 2 and 3, But he doesn't like 3! Who does? Anyhoo! He does like Italian Meatballs!
Please let me know how this comment has anything to do with my story. (Private message me, don't post more stuff here on the thread please.)
IV "It's a perfect day for bodysurfing", Dirtydog thought as he let his ankles take the sting of the frigid water. A small wave broke just ahead, spreading ice cold up to mid-thigh as it rushed by. Soon the commit-or-go-home wave advanced and he dived under it, the ice water stinging his heart, head, armpits, guts. A couple of minutes more and his heart was racing and his nerves adjusting to the sudden cold. Out at the breaker line the waves were breaking at about three to four feet, nothing spectacular, but not flat either. Samantha the great white shark was having a good day too. The whole school had had a religious circle that morning, praying for good hunting. Rolf, the leader of the pack, had nudged her and giving her that meaningful look with his cold eye, with its narrow vertical pupil. Samantha had thrilled to his suggestiveness. Swimming lazily in a circle half a mile from shore, they had prayed earnestly to God for sustenance, lovely fat seals or fish to take away the burning emptiness in their bellies. Then they had broken the prayer circle and gone their separate ways. Samantha had chosen to come in closer to shore. She was in bliss from the prayer circle, loving God with every stroke of her three chambered heart, repeating a little hunt mantra again and again by slowly rubbing her serrated upper fangs back and forth against the razor sharp pointed fangs of her lower jaw. Ahead of her, in the breaker line, something was moving. Something that looked like a seal. She praised God again... ************* (To be continued.)
