The beginning of the world, the Old Testament. That’s where stuff began, in the Christian version of things…
So God… God created the world in seven days! A foolish brag, I feel. If I was God, I’d say, “I’m gonna create the world over a number of days;” not sure how long, might be a bit pressed, you know? Too much pressure, seven days dead! I’d just do it like Microsoft:
“It’s gonna be done by Saturday… Tuesday… next week… about a month… We’re gonna bring it out when we’re fuckin’ ready, right?” I think God was actually in bed, and his Mum said, “Get out of bed, will you, God? You’ll miss the best part of the day!” …
“No, I won’t get out of bed, Mother, because I haven’t yet created the best part of the day. Can’t get me on that one! Boxed that one easy.”
“Oh, you, young scallywag! I’ll box you a bit later…”
So then God created the world, and the first day he created light, and air, and fish, and jam, and soup, and potatoes, and haircuts, and arguments, and small things, and rabbits, and people with noses, and jam – more jam, perhaps, and soot, and flies, and tobogganing, and showers, and toasters, and Grandmothers, and… Belgium.
The second day, He created fire, and water, and eggnog, and radiators, and lights, and Burma, and… and things that go “uuuhh,” and Colonel Khadaffi, and… Arthur Negus.
I think the third day, He probably got lists – “I can’t remember what I’ve invented, now. I’ve just been ad-libbing so far...” And so everything sort of builds up through the days, and you know, if you have a deadline, you know how it works; everything builds right up to the end. I think on the seventh day, God was running around, going, “Oh, my God! What haven’t I…? Rwanda! I better create Rwanda! Sorry, haven’t quite done that… The Tower of Pisa! Oh, it’s leaning… Oh, shi… done! Toilets in French camping sites… there we go. English football hooligans… there we go, whatever that is… Mrs. Thatcher’s heart… there we go… oh, fuck that! I know, I’ll put a stone in, that’ll work! There we go…”
The next week, I think, people are coming back, going, “Rwanda doesn’t work very well; infrastructure’s fucked.”
“I’m terribly sorry, I’ll… put some more jam here, and… a mountain of cabbages, and a radiator.”
“Thank you, it’s just what we wanted.”
Shakesville is run as a safe space. First-time commenters: Please read Shakesville's Commenting Policy and Feminism 101 Section before commenting. We also do lots of in-thread moderation, so we ask that everyone read the entirety of any thread before commenting, to ensure compliance with any in-thread moderation. Thank you.
blog comments powered by Disqus