Taking no prisoners. Including herself.

“What?!” I said, total disbelief splattered across my face. “How in the hell are you going to explain this–?” I glided my hand across and over the sloppyness below.

God just looked at me, slightly embarrassed.

“Well…?” I provoked. “Just try and tell me how the fuck you came up this.” I was trying to be gentle. I really was. But God had gone and done it again.

“How am I going to handle this one? How the fuck did I end up being reborn?!”

“I didn’t know it was going to be so… permanent.” God said, wincing. “It was just going to be a little love experiment — break me up into pieces, all loving each, each-to-all, and then add some pretty colors & fragrances & animals & experiences & stuff, and…” Suddenly God broke off crying.

The Mouth of God flung open like a yawning cave, 10-thousand furlongs wide and full of empty eternity. Tears crashed oceans. All of existence tumbled out, Bahagavad Gita-like.

“I didn’t mean to hurt nobody! ” God sputtered through sobs. “I just wanted to- to- play!”

Now I felt like a douche.

I reached for The Shoulder of God and touched it, gently. God flinched, at first, but then relaxed into my hand. We both breathed wide-lungs. I let a beat go by.

I softened my voice to a whisper. “I know you had good intentions. And I’m sorry I yelled. It’s just… you might have thought you were playing, but now I — we — have to live this. There’s so much suffering you spilled all over the Goddam place — (sorry) — and you made quite a mess.” God looked up. I sighed. And smiled.

“Here, here, darling — let me help you clean it up.”

§1003 · May 12, 2010 · Daily1, Narrative, Over in Oakland · Tags: , , , , · [Print]

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