Blasphemous (Short Story

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BLASPHEMOUS

I don't really remember when it all began. Probably when I was born. That's when all stories really begin, isn't it? Well not according to the Buddhists. But I'm no Buddhist and I don't believe in reincarnation. I don't need to believe in it – I'm living it. Which doesn't really affect my statement about beginnings. It just raises the question – which birth did it all begin with? Which lifetime am I referring to? Honestly, I have no idea. If I did I probably wouldn't be in this mess.

I had always been under the impression that eventually we sort our shit out. Eventually we work out what we're doing wrong and make it all right again. Get our chakras aligned. Vibrate at a higher frequency. Merge with the Stardust and other New Agey concepts. That's what he told me. That is what I remember hearing at those boring workplace meetings they made us all go to. It was just the foremen who ran those at first. Or fore-angels I think is probably a better way to describe them. They're not men, not up there. They don't have men bits. It doesn't work like that. The gender wars only exist down here, where we're all a little screwy in the head. One of the things I was hoping to get corrected. How many more life times? How many more lives until we become godlike? I asked them. The fore-angels that is. They didn't know. Above their pay grade, apparently. You'll need to ask God that. Oh really, like I can just barge into God's office and start asking the big man (the genderless variety) when all this shit is going to end.

Well apparently I can do just that. Who would have thought it? He keeps an open office policy I was assured. Just not on Sundays. He is busy on Sundays. Lot's of prayers to answer. From humans wanting to know what the fuck is going on. Or if He could help their favourite football team to win. Sometimes it's little things like help with killing more non-believers. He passes those ones onto the war office. Yes that's right, heaven has a war office. It's more of a 1984 type of thing. You know, the novel. War is Peace. The War Office is the Peace Office. It's all back-to-front. God's a rebel at heart. Don't tell him (genderless him) I told you that. He (you get the picture) prefers to keep a little of the Old Testament angry image going on. He can be a nostalgic son of a bitch, what can I say.

"How many times do I have to go through the whole Earth incarnation thing, God?" I asked. It was the first time I had spoken to the Deity himself/herself/itself (god-damn English language – oh shit, don't tell God I just used his name in a naughty way. Oh wait he's all knowing. I'm screwed).

"Until you get your shit sorted out." Wait, I didn't know God swore? Did you know that? Where was that in the Old Testament? I remember the bits where he killed his enemies. And where he allowed rapes, and child sacrifices. You know, God stuff. But swearing, that's almost too much. Still I won't reprimand him. God gets a lot of chances. Well he wrote the rules.

"What shit would that be, exactly?" I asked God. It felt kind of cool swearing to God. Cool like the kids smoking behind the school sheds during the lunch break type of cool. I never qualified for that level of cool before. I almost wanted to lean back in the chair and put my feet up on God's desk. Hands behind my head, cigarette hanging out of the corner of my mouth. This is what it's like to be cool. But no matter how much I thought I was 'it', no matter how much I felt like I was part of the 'group', I will never be as cool as God. And I was in His office. My feet stayed firmly on the ground.

"Your inability to truly love yourself," He told me. What, really? That's it? That's all that's wrong with me? My core fucked-up-ness? That should be easy to rectify, shouldn't it? Unless you're a retched vile piece of crap like me, I suppose. "Yes, apparently that is all there is to it," God answered my unasked question. He can do that you know, read minds and all. He's God. Don't think any naughty thoughts around Him, it gets awkward pretty quickly.

"What do you mean apparently?" I was hoping God had more certainty than that. Maybe it was a test. Like Daniel in the lions den. Or was that Jonah? Which one ended up in the whale? God-damn biblical mythology (oh no, that two strikes. Is he keeping count?)

"It says here in this book that what is wrong with humans is their inability to love themselves." God showed me the book he was holding in his hands. It fits in his hands. Of course it would. He can actually hold the whole world in his hands. Did you know that? I didn't until my last lifetime. Had to go to Sunday School every, well, Sunday. Logically named really. It made me think God had the largest hands of any creature in the whole world. Except they would have to be bigger than the whole world. And how would He fit on the world if His hands were bigger than the world? It was all too much for my child mind to fathom. So I stopped thinking about any of it, and just accepted whatever they told me. Apparently that is what I was meant to be doing all along. They all loved me for that. All those Sunday School teachers. Ironically it didn't make me love myself any more, yet now God was informing me that was what I was supposed to be doing all along. Seriously, who makes this shit up?

"Can I see that?" I asked God. I've never asked God for anything before. Now I'm asking Him if I can read His book. Not the one you're thinking either. Except it's not His book. He has a study, lots of other people's written material make it onto His shelf. Man, how good would your agent have to be to make that happen? God handed me the book He was holding. It was one of those glossy motivational types. Some guy's smiley face beaming back at me on the cover. 'All You Need Is Love' or some such cheesy title. I think I vomited a little bit in my mouth when I was looking at it, so I may have remembered it incorrectly. I was somewhat distracted. If I had written the book it would have been titled 'It's All Your Mother's Fault'. But it wasn't my book God was reading. "How long have you been taking tips from Self Help books, God?"

"I like to keep up with the latest ideas and concepts. Can't run the Universe and sort humans out all at the same time?"

"Really?"

"No, actually I can. There's nothing I can't do. You know, being God and all."

"So was that a lie you just told?"

"When?"

"When you said you couldn't do two thing at the same time?" I asked God. Did I just challenge God? Put Him to the test? It was starting to feel like a high stakes game of bluff. This is what happens after one too many Sunday School classes. You start picking at every moral dilemma. Even God's.

"Perhaps just a little white lie." Did God just admit to a little fib? Can He do that? But if He can do anything then logically yes He can do that. Is that a flaw in the fabric of the Moral Universe that just showed itself? I wish it didn't show itself to me. It's like a loose thread in my favourite shirt. It doesn't matter how much I like that funky paisley number, I'm going to pull that thread. I won't be able to take my eyes off of it. My fingers will twitch. Don't do it, I will order myself. I have a problem following orders. Just to make myself wrong I will refuse to follow my own demand. That'll teach me! The thread grows. Well actually it doesn't really. Not in the truest sense of the word. What is really happening is the shirt is shrinking. Returning to it's base elements. I am undoing the Universe, one 70's retro outfit at a time. Will the Universe forgive me?

"The Universe won't collapse in on itself or anything like that, will it?"

"It was just a little white lie," God said. He spoke sternly. Not as sternly as my Sunday School teacher did that time I said I didn't want to go to Heaven when I die. Why? she had inquired. I told her because it was full of Born Again Christians. I can still hear her voice ringing in my ears. So did God just reprimand me? Am I a sinner now? Is that how all this stuff works? "The Universe is fine. Nothing to worry about."

"Good to hear." I hope he doesn't rebuke me any more. That made my heart skip a beat. I blame those Sunday School stories. He really isn't all that scary. His voice isn't all booming thunderclaps streaking across the sky. There are no flaming bushes in his office. He didn't even throw any clay tablets at me. And surely God is not angry until clay tablets start getting smashed up. I remember reading that once. Or was that Charlton Heston who did that? It's all getting a bit mixed up in my memory. "So self love? That's the answer?"

"Yep, according to Smiley McSmiles here." You can't mock God, but if you write drivel he will surely mock you. That author probably deserved it. I haven't read the book, but they all seem derivative to me. Maybe I should ask God to summarise it for me.

"I thought self love was a sin?" I was starting to get the hang of this putting God to the test thing.

"Oh, you're confusing it with masturbation." Oh god, He just said the M word. That sounded so wrong when God said it. The room wants to cave in on my head now. There are clearly certain words that God should not say – that is one of them. It's like your parents talking about sex. I vomited in my mouth again. Now I feel really dirty. Please don't say that word again, for God's sake. No wait, for humans sake. Mental note to self – don't put God to the test.

"Does it say anything in there about loving other people too?" I asked God, referring to His new favourite book.

"You sound like that long haired hippy guy that used to hang around here all the time. What was his name? Oh yes, Jesus."

"Wait, isn't he your Son?"

"Yes."

"And he's not around here any more?" I can't keep up with all these heavenly shenanigans.

"He was an adult. Time for him to start his own heaven. He'll be fine."

"When was the last time you heard from him?"

"A few thousand years ago. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. I'm sure he's fine." How do you tell God his Son got into a bit of blue with the Romans down on Earth? I'm sure it will all work itself out in the end. When the Big UnBang happens who will remember any of this anyway?

"So did you have any other questions" God asked me. I get two? God is a generous God.

"What's the meaning of life, God?" I had gone blank. I went with one of the classics.

"Ah that old chestnut." God smiled at me. I hadn't actually seen God smile. He should do it more often. It suits Him. Might not do much for his image down on Earth though. I suppose he has that to think about. "Come around here." I walked around to God's side of the desk. Wow, if the guys could see me now! No one is going to believe this story when I tell them. God motioned for me to lean in towards him. So I did. He whispered in my ear. God's whispers are cool. They tickle a little bit. Or was that the result of the answer he imparted to me. God's words travelled through my ear canal, into my brain, and started rewiring neurons and other brainy things. A light bulb went off in my head. The figurative sort. You can't buy them at your local supermarket. I've looked.

"Is that it?" I asked. It seemed all too simple. Too underdone. But oh so perfect when you think about it. God nodded. It's like a fan when God nods. The cool breeze was a welcome relief. My brain was starting to overheat. I had left the light bulb on.

"That is it," God reassured me. "That has always been it."

"What do I do now?"

"Whatever you want. Just do me one favour."

"Sure God, what is it?"

"Whatever you do, just don't start a new religion. We have too many of them already."

God sent me on my way, complete with my new knowledge about the meaning of life, and the Self Help book God had been reading.

"It's not very good. Give that to the New Agers down the hall." They get all of God's hand me downs. "Remember what I told you." God gave me one last God sized smirk. The meaning of life is pretty funny now that I think about.

"That's it, hey?"

"That's all there is to it," God said.