There is a God

  by Walter Guest



I had nothing to do one morning so I took a trip into space. Lo and behold, just by accident, I came to the center of the whole friggin' thing. I could tell it was the center because I could see that's where everything came from. There was an old man there with a white beard. He was filling up this bucket somehow... looked like he'd just point at it. Then he'd take the bucket and fling the contents out away. And all kinds of fiery things would go flashing and crackling around, smashing into each other and into other stuff he'd thrown out before. Then he'd laugh and slap his knee and say something like, "Eeee doggies." He was having a great old time.

He must have sensed I was there because he turned around real quick, stared at me and said, "Who the hell are you?"

"Are you God?" I asked.

"God? What's that?"

"God is who created everything." I waved an arm to indicate the universe.

"Well, all that's mine, I suppose," he said, "so I guess that's who I am. But who the hell are you?"

"I'm Walt," I told him. "You created me."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What you accusing me of here? I didn't create you. I didn't create nobody."

"You just said you created everything, so you created me."

"No, no. You got it wrong. I just do all this shiny stuff. That's all I do. Don't you go laying more than that on me."

"But how about us?"

"Us? There's more of you?"

"There's billions of us. And you're supposed to be lookin' after all of us."

"Man! You're trippin'. Get outta my face, right now." He was getting pretty mad, it looked like. "You heard me. You get on outta here."

So I left fast. As I turned away I heard him mutter, "Honky mother! I gotta get me some malt liquor and a smoke."

So there you are. The good news is, there is a God. The bad news is, he ain't lookin' out for you.




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