My God

This story didn’t “come to me,” rather, it was given - on August 24, 2003, at 1:45 pm. Leaving a grocery store, laden with groceries and my obvious failings as a human being, I was accosted by a man who tried to sell me God. This story grew from there.

The following story is 714 words long.




My God


I smiled at the cashier, hoisted my groceries and moved to the exit. An old man was there, overdressed for the warm summer day to guard against the chills that only the very old feel. I couldn’t get by, so I stopped beside him, looking up at the WANTED advertisements that had captured his attention. The light was very bright, and my eyes had become sensitive to it, so I squinted.
He murmured something to me about the needs that I had, and I murmured something back. He had a round plastic disc in one ear, a hearing aid, obviously set too low. I imagined a world filled with half-sounds and incomprehension, and didn’t see him as being too different from the rest of mankind.
“If you have needs you might find this helpful.”
I looked down and saw that he clenched a grimy pamphlet in his hand. Cheap paper that was stained with sweat, shiny lettering hammered into impermanence. If I was God’s printer, I’d care more about my work. I read something about “Four Paths Leading to Redemption.”
“No thank you, I’m all full.”
His hand hung there like an accusation as he scrutinized me from behind thick glasses. He had heard me, but his hearing aid and his age gave him an excuse to persist.
“You should take it.”
“No.”
“Why not? You need it.”
I began to speak, but he turned his eyes from me, and instead pushed his ear forward. I stared at the little plastic disc for a moment, then lowered myself so I could speak into the microphone.
“You don’t know me, and you don’t know what I need. The fact that you are even offering tells me you have no common sense, and no sense of history. It’s insulting.”
He kept his ear turned to me, not his eyes, so I continued. “There have been many Gods throughout history. Yours just had the best publicist and the best media coverage. Your shepherd has the most sheep, and He got the highest scores from the judges – but there are flaws in His repertoire. Your God never nails the dismounts.”
Now the eyes turned to me, and they weren’t filled with Christian love. He had a cruel, tight little mouth that he used to speak cruel, tight little words. “What do you mean?”
“I’m talking about your common sense, or the lack of it. You can’t believe that you can live how you want, commit any sins you like, hurt others horribly, then say sorry and get a clean slate, a fresh start. It wouldn’t be fair, and it doesn’t work that way – it could never work that way.”
He had raised passion in me. He turned his ear to my mouth, to hear me properly. I helped, reaching out to tap the nearly dead hearing aid. Now when I spoke, my words screamed into his ear, amplified as his hearing aid never should have allowed. He jerked his head away, as if in pain. I took his earlobe, pinching, and I held him there. Smoke curled from where I touched him, and the smell of burning flesh came to me – but I had grown used to it throughout the ages. He whimpered, but I’d heard it before.
“Some men steal, some rape, some kill,” I hissed, knowing he’d scream out if he could, but also knowing he was frozen, a sheep under flashing knives. “But you know that, don’t you, Robbie?” I smiled, as the fear rose in him, sharpening its claws. “God might forgive you Robbie, but you never asked me, did you? I never once heard you praying to me for forgiveness.” My hand closed around the pamphlet he clutched in white fingers, and I could see the print crisping. “I haven’t forgiven you Robbie. I’ve come to collect what you owe me. I’m taking what’s mine.”
And Robbie ran, blindly, and never saw Death take him, never saw the huge truck that was on him before anyone could react. I saw it all, and it was mercifully quick. I stepped around him, still carrying my bags, now burdened by one more soul. The sun was still too bright, but it was a fine day, and I began to whistle as I worked.