God's Words?

God's Words?

Chapter 1

And So It Begins.....

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In the beginning, it was dark. And I don't mean “I'm standing in a field in the middle of nowhere at 3am with my eyes closed” dark. No this was more like, the depths of outer-space dark.

Well, actually even more so, because in space you can always see stars and planets. I guess it was similar to being a blind man in the depths of space trapped inside a cardboard box that's in the centre of a black hole. Around that dark, or possibly even darker.

God, not being the most intelligent of omniscient beings, stumbled about in this overwhelming darkness for a while. He could never find his keys, and He knew (being all-knowing) that it was only a matter of time before He took a nasty fall down the stairs and did Himself a mischief.

After a seemingly endless delay, He had an idea.

“Hey, someone switch on the bloody lights!” He boomed.

But there was no response. God allowed the puzzlement to wash over Him for a while before He remembered, in a moment of forehead-slapping realisation, that there was no one else to do it. God couldn't remember his parents, or how He came to be in this pitch black patch of space and time.

So off He went to find the lightswitch. It wasn't long before another eureka moment hit Him.

“What the hell am I looking for anyway? There's no such thing as lightswitches!”

Again God slapped His head, hoping to jolt His brain into some semblance of motion. Oddly, it seemed to work.

“What have I been doing all this time?” He asked himself, genuinely confused. “God only knows how I've lasted this long in the dark.” He smirked at His little joke.

So, He tried to imagine something other than dark. He figured it out pretty quickly. Having a mind the size of the universe allows a Supreme Being to think quite effectively, if He is so inclined.

Then all He needed to do was give His creation a name. He eventually settled on a word so ridiculous that only someone quite unhinged could have invented it. He found it quite unpronouncable in the pictorial form He had created it in, yet the stupidity of the word made Him smile. Eventually, He decided to keep the letters but say it in a completely different way.

“Let there be Light.” He intoned, confidently. Nothing in particular happened, so He decided to try it a little louder.

“LET THERE BE LIGHT, GODDAMMIT!” He screamed.

And the whole place was bathed in a blinding white mass of photons.

Shouting and swearing never fails He smiled to Himself, as there was no one else to smile to.

God was quite pleased with Himself after this little exertion. He was also a little tired, so He created a sofa for Himself, and had a seat. After a time of feeling extremely smug, God started to get bored (since He had yet to create the Devil, who would go on to create TV). Eventually, after a long while of twiddling His almighty thumbs, God switched off the lights and fell asleep.

God awoke with a start and dragged Himself to his feet, still rubbing the sleep from His eyes. He fumbled aimlessly for the lightswitch once more, before He finally caught himself.

For God's sake God, He reprimanded Himself, how do You even know what a lightswitch is anyway? He put it down to one of those little bizarrenesses that come with being pansophical. God collected himself, and prepared to utter those fateful words again. He decided against it, having an overinflated sense of His own coolness. Instead, He snapped His fingers Fonz-style, and on the lights came.

Yeah, that was fun, He mused smugly, but I really need to make a timer for that thing.

God's omnipotence waddled into view once more, and some great celestial lump of plastic took over the cycle.

Now that his abode was bathed in light, God noticed something. What He had always thought was just a particularly smooth patch of wall was actually a window.

Don't remember putting that there, He thought momentarily. He quickly shrugged off that useless doubt, and peered outside.

What He saw did not impress Him very much at all. All around him was a solid wall of water, endless and dull.

So, what? I'm trapped in a submarine? God exclaimed, internally. Now that is weird.

After a moment God lost interest in wondering how His strange situation had arisen, and set about correcting it. With one swipe of His hallowed hand, He sloshed all the water above Him. For a while He was satisfied with his work, until He noticed all the water kept flowing back down in little waterfalls, running down his window and spoiling the view. The water displeased God, so He motioned once more and the water was cast down. His Submarine house floated on top of the sea in the beaming sunshine, and God saw that it was not too shabby.

Well, that'll do for one day, God decided, unleashing a holy yawn accompanied by a rapturous stretch. He sank back onto the sofa and passed out. The transcendental timer barely had time to realise it was supposed to be night.

The following day, God awoke feeling pretty creative. He'd had a few weird dreams the night before and, being all-powerful, He was in the perfect position to act on them. Once again he strolled to the window, and without any gesticulation (He was getting good at this creation lark by now), He split the water apart, and created little dry patches. He was never very good at coming up with names, so He called the watery bits “sea”, since He could see them. This left Him rather stuck, name-wise, for the dry bits, so He decided to go back to basics.

Just smash a few letters together He reminded himself. It's not like anyone is marking you out of ten.

And He did. His creation was not particularly beautiful, but at least it sounded about right.

Heh, I'd like to see anyone else master this ridiculous language, God smirked.

He revelled in His own immenseness for a moment, then looked back to the earth. He was fond of the dry patches, they were a definite improvement.

But He felt they were missing something.

“Oi, you!” He yelled, leaning out of the window.

The earth trembled in fear, mulling over all the terrible possibilities that a mind the size of God's could wreak upon it.

“Do something interesting, why don't you?” God looked down at the earth expectantly.

The earth thought for a moment, and like a good little creation it pushed parts of itself outwards, forming epic peaks and lush valleys.

God squinted and rubbed His chin pensively.

“Not bad, not bad.”

The earth breathed a momentary sigh of relief, and geysers exploded all over its surface.

“Could do with some action though, don't you think?” God yelled. This was definitely less of a question, more of an order.

The earth, being a rather large and immobile creation, didn't have much of a concept of “action”. But, faced with the prospect of God's wrath, it had to do something. It began to push smaller things out of itself, forming little patches of interest. At first single blades of grass were the best it could muster, but it gained pace and created small inoffensive bushes, and finally towering, graceful trees.

“Yeah, I like it. Any chance you could add a bit of colour though? All that green is making me feel quite queasy.” God still hadn't quite found His sea legs.

The earth sighed, wishing God hadn't bothered inventing it. All this existence stuff was turning out to be too much like hard work. However, the earth was far from defeatist, so it pushed flowers out between the weaving blades of grass, and made the trees bear a variety of weird and wonderful fruits.

“Brilliant, just brilliant. I couldn't have done much better Myself.” God beamed, rubbing His hands together excitedly.

Sod off. The earth thought, sending seismic tremors all across it's surface.

“I heard that!” God shouted and, without so much as a second thought, He smote the earth. It was silent forever more, only able to express itself through the searing farts of volcanoes and rumbling grunts of earthquakes.

God felt pretty damn good after all of His hard work, and once again settled back into His luxurious sofa. He tried to get to sleep, but something was tickling around His vast mind, nudging him to life just as he was about to pass out. He wondered on this for a while, then finally became exasperated and stormed over to the window. The darkness had returned, although it had lost much of its edge since God had invented its nemesis. God looked up at the aching sea of blackness above, and the niggling finally clicked into place.

How could I have missed it? That bit up there is dull as dishwater. What should I do with that? He rested His head on his hands and stared upwards, drinking in the magnetic dark.

God, as you may have noticed, was not the most imaginative of deities. He had a tendency to have one basic idea, then slightly modify it, fooling Himself into believing it was completely original.

Right, well. I suppose the basic problem is that it’s too bloody dark, really. So I’ll just poke a hole here, and one there. One there perhaps… God indulged his obsessive-compulsive side for a while, and eventually the whole sky was filled with tiny points of light. He marveled for a moment at how He had accidentally drawn little pictures everywhere. You are a genius, God, he congratulated himself. After a while of looking at the newly decorated sky, God felt something was missing. So He closed his almighty fist, and punched a hole, much larger than the others. Not bad, even if I do say so myself. God grinned. As an afterthought, He drew a little surprised face on the largest light patch. God’s sense of humour was basic, but at least he amused himself.

He looked up at his inky patchwork, now swiss-cheesed with patches of shining white light, and drank in the immensity of it all. He daydreamed for a moment, then realised that it wasn’t too bad, on the scale of things.

God was quite exhausted by His night’s work, and He collapsed onto the sofa. He drifted off to sleep just as the celestial timer woke up.

God slept right through that day and into the next. He awoke sweating in the blazing sunshine, over 24 hours later.

“God you bloody slacker,” He reprimanded Himself, irritated at having missed almost a whole day. He resolved to accomplish even more that day to make up for His epic slumber.

Once again God made His way over to the window. He looked down on the earth, and His repetitive thought pattern struck again.

This place needs more bloody action.

Trees and plants were all well and good in the eyes of God, but where was all the destruction? Where was all the smashing, and devouring, eh?

So God unleashed His all-knowing brain on the world once more.

“Oi, sky!” He yelled, “get off your windy arse and make something interesting. I’m bored.”

The sky, having been rather content being ignored by God for a while, released a long-suffering groan, whipping up a gigantic hurricane. It tried to figure out what the hell He meant by action. It assumed the earth had something vaguely right when it went down the fauna route, so it followed the path the earth had taken, but continued a little farther.

Small seems to be good, it mused. I’ll stick with that. Fast also seems to be good, and He likes them to die quickly. What else? Oh yes, interdependence, feeding off of each other and the world. He loves that too.

So the sky had a quick chat with its brothers, the earth and the sea, and together they came up with an idea or two. The sea produced tiny little plankton, the sky produced billions of germs and viruses and the earth conjured parasites that immediately set to work destroying the plants and trees.

“Hurry up then!” God yelled once more. “We don’t have all day, you know!”

The elements rolled their eyes in unison. The waves lapping on the shore spoke softly “we’ve already done it, Sir.”

God squinted, and stared, but He couldn’t make out the tiny attempts at action the world had created for him.

“Not good enough, you lazy creations.” God folded His arms across His chest.

The sky, the earth and the sea thought quickly, as they were not particularly big fans of God’s propensity for smiting. They bounced a few ideas back and forth, and decided the best plan was to just go wild.

So the earth created massive killer lizards, the sky moulded similar creatures with wings, and the sea created gargantuan fish with fangs metres high.

God marveled at this spectacular sight for a moment, then grew afraid.

“Too much action guys, I’m getting a little scared now” God whimpered.

The three brothers had a little chuckle at their creator’s wimpishness. God thought about giving them a damn good smiting for their insolence, but He worried if He did they would leave all these scary creatures running around smashing up His lovely creation.

The sky produced a huge stone that smashed into the sea, stunning and killing all the fish. This produced a huge dust cloud that clogged the air causing all the flying creatures to fall down dead. In turn, tsunamis rolled over the earth and washed the lizards away.

The world had got the idea by now. It reproduced the germs, parasites and plankton, but supplemented them with creature of all varying sizes and shapes. Obviously, being God’s creations, they had inherited His tendency to repeat the same idea over and over again with only slight variations. They had reduced it slightly, built on it and learned to think more freely, but that cyclical repetitiveness still reigned supreme. As such, the world had a strange pattern to it. Everything seemed oddly similar, despite its immense diversity.

But that was just how God liked it.

“Well done lads, we’ve done a fine job there.” God smiled down on the world.

The sky, earth and sea mumbled agreement. They had learned not to disagree with God, especially not when He was in one of His “creating” moods.

God laced His hands behind his His head, and uttered a contented burp. He looked down on His creation, and saw that it was no picture postcard, but it would do.

He turned away from the window, once again weary from a hard day's creating. He looked down upon his sofa, and realised that He had been slumming it.

An omnipotent being with the whole universe at his beck and command, a faint hint of God's mysterious mother's voice appeared in his head, and you are content sleeping on a sofa? Have some bloody ambition!

God felt deeply embarrassed. He had spent so much time focusing on getting the view out the window right, He had completely forgotten about his own space. He wandered through to another room, and conjured a magnificent four-poster bed carved of the finest mahogany, replete with silk sheets and a mattress so thick and soft that it threatened to devour anyone who lay on it.

Oh yeah, that's much better. God's self-improvement demon had been satisfied, for a while.

This final morsel of creating had sapped the last of God's strength for the day. He collapsed on the bed, falling instantly into the deepest, most comfortable sleep He had ever experienced.

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Chapter 2- One small step for a man, one giant leap of faith for God

When God awoke the next day His spirit of adventure was overflowing. He fought his way out of the ludicrously oversized mattress and made his way back to his favourite window.

“Ahoy lads, I'm coming ashore.” God yelled in his best pirate-voice, eliciting a less than exuberant response from the earth's many orifices. God was so excited at the prospect of a “meet and greet” with His loyal creations that He forgot all about smiting and set about manipulating His house-sub over to the shore.

After a few hours of chuckling, the sea grew tired of watching God puffing and panting. His attempts to maneuver several tonnes of marine-bungalow using only his sandals as propulsion were proving to have less impact on his position than the natural ebb and flow of the tides. The sea, having laughed itself sore, reluctantly decided to show a little mercy and intervene. Knowing God's love of action, but abject fear of too much action, it produced a mid-sized wave. It rolled towards the shore at a mediocre pace, almost knocking God out of the door as it shunted his holy house. One of His sandals slipped free of his grip and disappeared beneath the surface.

Bollocks, God thought, before realising that He could just create another with a wave of His almighty fist. So He did. He slipped on his sandal, still warm from the act of creation, and shot the sea a stern look. He decided against any smiting, since He saw the sea's plan. Although He had to admit he was rather disappointed He hadn't thought of it Himself.

While His house surfed ponderously towards the shore God tootled around His flat, rehearsing his speech, tidying up and generally trying to burn off the nervous energy that was building inside Him. He was rather apprehensive about meeting His creations, but He was confident that they would show Him the utmost respect for His great deeds over the last week. The sea, earth and sky we're all well and good, but they were a bit too big and ethereal to really have a decent conversation with. And they had all gone remarkably quiet since the “sod off” incident. Moody buggers can’t even take a bit of friendly smiting, God moaned to himself, hoping that the creatures on the land would have been imbued with at least a vague semblance of a sense of humour.

His sub-maison ground to a crunching halt on the pebble-dashed beach, sending God flying unceremoniously out of the open door. After rolling for a few yards, God’s battered form came to a less-than-comfortable rest on the rocky shore. Not quite the entrance He had envisaged, however the monkeys gathered in the trees further up the beach certainly seemed impressed, whooping and cackling wildly. God rose to His almighty feet, and took a bow in front of the hoard of simian cheerleaders. He cleared His throat and spoke:

“Creatures of this land I call ‘Earth’, your Lord has arrived!” God was rather pleased with this little opener, letting them know who’s boss right from the off. He tried to gauge the crowd’s reaction. Most had ceased their yelling, some appeared to be looking in His general direction. With the exception of a few unruly creations who were engrossed in picking at each others fur, the opening seemed to have gone rather well. So on He continued, “I have been watching your progress from my vantage point on the high seas.” God paused momentarily to let the immensity of His sea-faring abilities sink in, “What I have seen has been very satisfactory. I would like to let you all know that your Creator is very pleased with your progress. I bestow my almighty blessings upon you!” God was somewhat disheartened by lack of rapturous applause. That last line was supposed to be the killer. But more monkeys had fallen into the “picky-eaty” trap, and yet more were milling aimlessly about the trees, cavorting and frolicking like they didn’t even realise they were talking to God.

Obviously these are some of the less intelligent animals I created, God supposed. He was not terribly impressed with the excursion so far.

God looked up the beach, trying to determine the best way forward. He barely had time to engage his omnipotent brain before a sharp stabbing pain rushed up from below. Ayaaa! God yelped. He raised His foot up to examine it and discovered a tiny armoured beastie clinging to his big toe by one rather fierce-looking claw. He detached the hanger-on and raised it to his face.

“Are you aware that you are attacking the creator of this whole world?” The indignant tone in God's voice had little impact on the crab's demeanour. It continued straining for freedom, claws snapping wildly. “You're lucky I haven't smited you right into the sand, you know. I am all-powerful.”

Still the crab continued its flailing, but this time a combination of fortunate timing on the crab's part and carelessness on God's part allowed the claw to connect directly with the tip of God's nose, eliciting another holy yowl. The crab dropped to the floor, and scuttled off in its inimitable style, blissfully ignorant of the blasphemy it had just committed.

Bloody thing doesn't even walk straight. What kind of ridiculous creation is this? God was beginning to regret ever having left the security of his house-boat. I'll have to have words with the earth, try to teach it a little bit about how to create things properly.

God looked up the beach towards the trees once more. This time He followed his gaze, taking care to tread cautiously over the pebbles. His still aching toe was a constant reminder of the many subtle dangers His creation held.

As the sun slipped away behind the forest canopy overhead, the twitchy feeling returned to God. He didn't particularly like the feeling of this place. Dark, ominous and clammy. Way to go earth. God's ambivalance quickly faded as He noticed the sea of life around Him. Immediately He began to recite his big speech to the assembled masses.

As He came to the big finish, He was disappointed to find an even less impressive response from these creatures than the monkeys had provided. The ants continued their toil, endlessly lugging hunks of food of such ludicrous size they would put Atlas to shame to feed their bloated queen. The butterflies flitted flirtatiously between the flowers, streaks of flowing colour searching for those elusive drops of nectar. Spiders weaved their webs with the same unfathomable precision as they always had.

My God, what an uninspired bunch of creations these were. Barely even seem alive, really. God's faith was beginning to dwindle, and the sinister grunting black shapes in the undergrowth were getting too close for comfort. He decided to cut his losses, and made his way through the forest as quickly as his throbbing toe would allow. Many a creature was smote by God's sacred sole on that brief journey.

As he emerged back into the sunlight, God found a much more agreeable environment. The forest faded softly into grass, then further ahead into an the vast expanse of an arid plain.

Hmmm, this looks better, God mused. At least I can see properly here.

God strolled along the forest's edge for a while, searching for an intelligent-looking creature. After a time He drifted off into a daydream, absorbed by the soothing rhythm of the world.

He was dragged back to reality by one of the most unlikely creatures He had ever imagined.

The hulk stood 15-feet tall, a mass of wrinkly, grey leather. Two sail-like ears protruded from each side of its imposing skull. Further down, two large teeth jutted out from either side of a nose that would have rivaled the most obese anaconda.

“Now that,” God announced, “is how you do creation!” Instantly God forgave the earth for its minor transgressions. The elephant stared intently at God, apparently equally as surprised at the sight of this bearded little thing as God was at its towering form. One more God began his speech.

“Greetings, oh mighty beast of the plains. I would like to complement you on your stature and impressively bizarre head.” God paused momentarily, then continued. “Although, really you should be congratulating me. For yes, it is true. You are talking to your God. The great I am. The creator of all you see before you.”

At this point, God was expecting some kind of appreciation. A little clap, a word of praise, even just a little smile. But the elephant just stared at God ponderously.

“Well? Don’t you have anything to say? Bloody idiotic, unappreciative creatures we have around here. You’d think I hadn’t just wasted the best 5 days of my life on them.” God rubbed His omnipresent forehead with vigour. The beginnings of an almighty migraine were making their presence felt.

God’s grumbling head was not helped by the mind-shattering trumpet produced by the elephant. God barely managed to evade the vicious tusks as the juggernaut charged at Him. He dragged himself to His feet and stumbled back into the forest, taking cover behind a small bush. God couldn’t collect his thoughts enough to even consider smiting the elephant. The fear had overtaken Him, all He could do was cower behind the bush as the elephant crashed around the undergrowth at the edge of the forest, snapping trees like twigs.

Well, it could be worse, God thought, at least I got rid of those oversized scaly buggers before I stepped out of the flat.

Eventually the elephant tired of hunting God, and left to find a more palatable and less elusive quarry. God dragged himself to his feet, legs tingling from being crushed into the ground for several hours. He dusted himself down, uttered a few of the first curse words ever heard on Earth, and considered His options.

“Well, I’m not going home till I’ve had some bloody praise!” God yelled, at no one in particular. Then it hit him. He needed to find the boss animal. There must be some kind of chief somewhere around. So off God set, the spring back in His step.

God set off into the dusty heat of the plains, weaving his way around rocky outcrops and battered, jagged trees. It was not long before he came upon a much smaller animal, hopping calmly on its way, pausing occasionally to sniff the air and peer around. It noticed God, and focused on Him with a curious stare. The long ears crowning its head perked up, and its nose twitched.

Aha! God thought, we may be onto something here. At least the little bugger is paying me some attention

So once more, God set about introducing the little creature to the nature of its existence.

“Hello there, little man. As you may have heard, I am God. I created you, and everything around you, I am all-powerful. Name something you wish for, and I will provide it for you.” God hoped a little bit of miraculous charity would tip the balance in his favour.

The hare's nose continued to twitch, but it made no request.

“Honestly, absolutely anything. Some food, perhaps? Or I could probably make a little friend for you?” Still there was no response. “How about a pair of these?” God pointed down at his feet, then realised some disambiguation may be required. “The sandals, of course. Your feet are already quite big enough for you, as far as I can see.”

The hare remained motionless, observing the strange creature in front of it with a faint look of amusement in its dark eyes.

A whole world filled with strong, silent types. Not my idea of a good time. God raised His hand to rub His world-weary eyes.

When He looked back to the hare, it seemed skittish. It made a desperate attempt at a hop, but a black shadow was rapidly coming into focus over its frail form. God looked up and saw a brown streak barreling towards the hare, talons outstretched. It connected, and the hare was snatched skywards, struggling hopelessly against the hawk's iron grip.

“Oi! I was talking to him! Bring him back!” God yelled, less than impressed at having His audience forcibly removed. The hawk took little heed, flapping off nonchalantly into the vast expanse of sky.

Well, to be fair, that was actually quite exciting, God thought to Himself, his spirits having been lifted by this little display of natural selection.

God looked around in all directions, but there was little to be seen beyond dust, rocks and dry patches of grass. He decided to cut his losses for the day, and made His way back to the shore.

It was a largely uneventful journey. God passed several smaller creatures on his way back to the forest, scorpions and snakes mostly, but having been less than impressed by the response from the insects in the forest He decided to save his breath, thinking that He may need it later if He came across a worthy creature.

As God reentered the forest, a sense of foreboding returned. If I'd created this place, I would have made the woods much less dark, and there definitely wouldn't have been any of these creepy shadows in the undergrowth. God quickened His pace a little, eager to be back in the comfort of His seafaring-semi.

As he progressed down the path, He noticed one of the dark shapes had ascended a tree and was now grunting down at Him from on high. This made God nervous. Another shape joined the first in the branches, and their grunting grew in intensity. God was torn between the urge to run, and the temptation to do some long-range smiting. Ever the optimist, He chose the middle-ground.

“Good day, my beloved creations. Come down from your perch, and meet your maker.” God tried to portray confidence with every facet of his supreme being.

The grunting stopped abruptly. The two shadowy figures leapt from their branch, and swung towards the path with an agility that belied their flabby, flatulent frames. They crashed to the ground a few feet ahead of God, and pounded the floor expectantly.

God was quite pleased with this result. Well, it seems these ones can at least figure out what I’m saying. I think, anyway. Hopefully they’ve got a bit of chat to back it up. He cleared his throat, and once again addressed His Humble creations.

“Salutations, mysterious tree hangers. I’m not sure if you have conversed with any of your fellow forest-dwellers today, but if so you may have heard that your almighty God has popped by for a visit?” God hesitated, awaiting a response.

The chimps looked at each other quizzically, and a perplexed hooting match began. God allowed them to discuss for a moment, before becoming impatient and recommencing his litany.

“Well, regardless, I am He. You have me to thank for all this. Your beautiful, if somewhat gloomy, forest, all the trees and lesser plants. Even you were in fact, created by my will alone.” Again, God awaited the inevitable praise. The chimps seemed less impressed this time, hooting wildly at God. God, in His desperation, mistakenly read this as praise.

“Yes, indeed, indeed. I know, I am truly incredible. No….no…it was my pleasure, I assure you.” He moved towards the chimps, offering His holy hand in friendship.

The larger of the two chimps took hold of the outstretched limb, and began to shake the hand up and down. Wow, I’ve hit the jackpot here, God thought. If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try again, I suppose.

But God’s sense of achievement was short-lived. The chimp that had taken God’s hand began to shake more violently, adding unnatural strength to the agility that had been observed earlier.

“Ok, that’s enough handshaking for now.” God commanded, trying to wrench free from the vice-like grip. But the chimp ignored the plea, hopping up and down to add yet more vigour to the already massively uncomfortable gesture. The second chimp took it upon itself to join in the fun and began to pick viciously at God’s flowing beard, pulling out clumps of hair with gay abandon. This was not what God had in mind when he had left his houseboat that morning.

As the second chimp pulled one particularly large clump of hair free, and the first wrenched God’s arm so violently that He feared it wouldn’t be a part of his Holy Spirit for long, God closed his eyes and screamed in pain.

Suddenly, all was quiet. God opened His eyes, and saw that his squat, hairy tormentors had been replaced by two small piles of dust.

God was torn between relief and grief. He sat himself down on the rough surface of the path, and rested His blessed head in His hands.

“What a day!” He sighed to Himself. “If I hadn’t already smited that Earth character, He’d be in for some smiting of Biblical proportions now.”

He rested there for a while, wondering where He had gone wrong. Then it came to Him.

“What on my green Earth was I doing trusting a lesser creation to create a creature worthy of my attention?” God asked Himself. “If you want a job done right, get off your omnipotent arse and do it yourself.”

He looked around for some suitable creation material. His eyes settled on the two piles of dust, still steaming from the smiting to end all smitings.

Well, at least those ugly little buggers will be of some use, I suppose. God spat on his hands, rubbed them together and set to work.

He scooped up a handful of the chimp dust and began to roll it between his palms. He spat into the ball of dust from time to time, creating a lazy imitation of clay. He formed a number of balls and sausages of varying sizes, then sat for a while, scratching his chin and contemplating the best way to put them together.