The God Problem
By The Other Terrence Oblong
- 1443 reads
I was woken by a hammering on my back door.
Looking at my clock I was surprised to see it was barely 6.00 in the morning.
‘Who could it be at this hour’ I wondered.
It was Alun (the only other resident of our island).
After I’d quickly dressed I dashed downstairs.
“What’s all the fuss?” I asked him.
“It’s God Jed,” he said, “He’s coming for dinner tonight.”
“Are you sure?” I said, it seemed unlikely.
“Yes Jed. God’s coming here. Croccy – the god we met on our recent adventure.”
Ah, of course, that god. Just as well really, I’d have nothing to say to the more famous God almighty, after all, He is all-knowing, so it would be a waste of time talking to Him. I imagine suppers with Himself are nothing more than excuses for Him to lecture on what you should or shouldn’t be doing, and if I wanted that sort of merciless tongue-lashing over supper I’d have gotten married.
“I’m glad it’s Croccy,” I said. Croccy had helped us out by saving Death from drowning (it’s a long story), meaning that I could give up the Robes of Doom and return to my happy, relaxed island life, where, I’m pleased to say, nothing ever happens. “But why’s he coming here?”
“Well he’s only got one believer now, so for a god he’s not very busy. Becky mentioned that …”
“Becky?”
“Death’s PA. We met her one our recent adventure, remember Jed?”
“I didn’t know you were in touch with Becky.”
“Well, after all that fuss she had of trying to get hold of someone to cover for the Ferryman, we thought it would be a good idea if we swapped numbers. Just in case.”
“Just in case.”
“So I found this number in my wallet and couldn’t think who it was, I’d scrawled down her name but couldn’t read it, so I gave it a ring, just to see.”
“And you reached the domain of Death in the sixth dimension.”
“Exactly Jed. Well, you can hardly hang up on Death, you don’t know how He’ll take it, so I said hello and we talked for a bit.”
“How long?”
“Well, you know how it is in the sixth dimension Jed, time doesn’t work in the same way. But let’s just say we had a long talk during which the subject of religion came up, and she mentioned that she was the last sole surviving believer in Croccy.”
“So you said, that’s a shame, it’s so sad when religions die out, I must have your god to dinner before he runs out of believers.”
Alun looked at me, unsure how serious I was being.
“Anyway Jed, all you really need to know is that you’re cooking dinner for four tonight. I said to arrive between 7.00 and 7.30.”
“Four?”
“Yes Jed, four. You, me, Becky and Croccy.”
“Ah, I see. You didn’t mention that Beccy was coming.”
“I thought it would be nice.”
“Are you …?”
“Am I what Jed?”
“Never mind, just don’t try and set me up with Croccy. What do crocodile gods eat?”
“How should I know Jed, I’ve never catered for a crocodile god.”
“You invited him.”
“Just google it Jed, google has the answer to everything.”
I googled it. Apparently crocodile gods eat mostly fish, birds and small mammals, so I made a chicken curry (everyone likes chicken tikka massala) with a prawn cocktail starter.
Croccy and Becky arrived at exactly somewhere between 7.00 and 7.30. Croccy wearing his formal pants (a great honour, as I was aware, Croccy is usually naked).
Over dinner Becky described her reasons for believing in Croccy, a Peruvian god who had been about to become extinct, when the last of his believers had died in the Peruvian village where he had been worshipped. She was now his only believer, meaning that as soon as she died He would run out of believers.
“You know your problem,” Alun said, “lack of publicity. Now, if Jed here were to put you in one of his novels you’d get millions of new followers.”
All eyes turned expectantly to me. I write New York murder mysteries and have developed something of a following.
“That’s a slight exaggeration,” I said, “I’ve barely sold a million books altogether, and to my knowledge none of my readers switch religion because I tell them too. I mean, I’m hardly Jeffrey Archer.”
I could see the looks of disappointment on Becky and Croccy’s faces. “However, I could mention you, it would do no harm, set a murder in a church of your followers.”
“I wouldn’t want people to think my followers were killers,” Croccy said.
“Well, they’d be suspects, otherwise it would be a pretty poor crime novel, but I could make the killer an outsider, and I could use the investigation as an excuse to explain about your religion. You might pick up a few worshippers.”
It was agreed. In fact the book, The Crocodile Murders, would go on to become my most successful novel, turned into a film starring Noddy Holder as the mad crocodile-dressed killer, and would indeed lead to a resurgence in the church of Croccy and a new, unexpected career for Noddy as an actor specialising in crocodile-obsessed lunatic killers.
After supper we retired to my lounge where the conversation flowed. It was the first time I’d ever cooked for a god, and the first time in years I’ve cooked for a woman.
“Well, it’s late, Croccy said eventually. Thank you ever so for the meal, and for the company. I don’t know when I last enjoyed myself so much. I may only have one follower, but it’s nice to have so many friends.”
“I said he could stay at the empty house Jed. I assume it’s all right with you.”
Of course,” I said, “though I must admit I was expecting you’d be going back Croccy. Can’t you just snap your fingers and pop back to heaven.”
“Well I could,” said Croccy, “but I don’t like to waste my powers on trivia, when I could wait for the boat in the morning.”
“So where are you going to be staying?” I asked Becky.
“Becky’s staying with me,” Alun said.”
“Oh,” I said.
“It’s so rare for to get a night away from the kids,” Becky said. “You won’t tell Death, will you. He can be such a tease about these things.”
“I’m not planning on seeing Death anytime soon,” I said.
I slept soundly that night knowing that a god was sleeping just a few hundred yards from my house. I was pleased for Alun, having found a woman after all these years, though I couldn’t help but think how strange life would be with a third person living on the island. Would this be the end of our adventures, I wondered?
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Comments
Yeah, the Other Terrence,
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A quaint little story, well
M.T.M
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