Newsmedianews is pleased to announce that we are able to bring you an exclusive series of interviews with God, conducted by God with one of our own reporters, Nickumbonjoi UnKleshtroodleshtom.
THE FIRST MEETING
by Nickumbonjoi UnKleshtroodleshtom
religious affairs reporterMy first interview with God turned out just as I’d expected and was almost a disaster from the very start.
"Come in and stand in the corner and put on the dunce hat and I hope you’re going to be brief, all you people ever do is waste my time," said God in perfect tones.
It had taken me a painstakingly long time to track God down. Despite His omniscience, you just won’t find Him listed in any telephone directory. Even His web site at www.god.com just throws a difficult to find link up at you. Investigations of the web site reveals His head office is apparently located at the Yongin-suji Post Office, Pungdeokcheon2-dong Yongin-si, Gyeonggi-do, though I suppose only He knows just what that really means.
Finally the e-mail arrived in my mailbox, from god@god.com
"I understand you are seeking an interview," the message said.
So, here I was.
"I WANT YOU TO LISTEN TO ME NOW," roared God in a volcanic deluge of sound that made the cardboard dunce hat rattle against my cranium.
"I just don’t know how many times I have to explain this. I am a busy individual and I really cannot spend any more time with all of your stupid and ridiculous requests. I want you to tell people to stop praying to me. I have to answer every damned call and its starting to impinge on my work.
"Everybody wants something better, that’s all they ever ask for.
"Look at the world today. Such a mess. DO YOU KNOW WHY?"
The vocal blast pinned me to the wall. I tried to slowly shake my head to say that no, I didn’t know why.
"Don’t be so pathetic," sneered God with the most snivelous of inflection.
"Of course you don’t know. Do you think I would ask you to give me an answer to something that I know that you don’t already know? Why do you persist in being so foolish?"
At this point God’s secretary — or one of them, brought His morning pint of mead and slice of toasted manna. I knew I’d just have to wait and could only watch as God sat back with a lopsided grin and started devouring mouthfuls of the manna with long draughts of the mead.
"Everything I do is to teach you a lesson," He said, spilling unmasticated lumps of manna with the words.
"I do not give you manna and mead, therefore you must learn the lesson of hospitality. WHEN IT DOES NOT EXIST, YOU DO NOT MISS IT."
Specks of mead soaked manna spattered against the wall.
"The world is such a mess because everybody keeps asking me to make it better and I have to listen to millions of them every day and its stopping me from concentrating on my job and that is why the world is in such a mess today, BECAUSE EVERYBODY PRAYS AT ME TO MAKE IT BETTER INSTEAD OF GETTING OUT AND MAKING IT BETTER!
"If you want to do one thing right, you’ll tell them to stop praying at me and let me get on with my job, then it will be a better place.
"Have the stupid idiots still not learned the meaning of faith?"
I thought I’d learned my lesson in not trying to answer one of God’s questions and kept quiet.
"ANSWER ME YOU FOOL WHEN YOU KNOW THE ANSWER AND DON’T PRETEND THAT YOU DON’T."
A large lump of unswallowed manna hit the dunce cap and knocked it from my head.
"AND TAKE THAT AS YOUR CUE TO LEAVE. Thank you and please wipe your feet on the way out."
Make what you will of it. I offer no opinion. I merely report the interview.
Nickumbonjoi UnKleshtroodleshtom
THE SECOND MEETING
by Nickumbonjoi UnKleshtroodleshtom
religious affairs reporterMy second meeting with God was a little more amicable. He made me feel quite at home from the moment I entered His dwelling.
"Before you stand in the corner and put on the dunce cap as you know you are required to do, pop along to the corner shop and get me a few rolls of bog paper, would you?" He sweetly asked, handing me less than one third of the price He knew I would have to pay.
His boundless belief in the fact that I would duly comply without complaint reassured me.
"AND MAKE SURE IT IS THE KITTENSOFT VARIETY AND NONE OF THIS CHEAP SANDPAPER CRAP," His thunderous octaves echoed along the hall behind me and propelled me towards the front door.
Standing in the shop as God's emissary was slightly disturbing. I tried not to think that everyone was watching me, that they all knew exactly why I was there with the large packet of toilet rolls. My fingers fumbled at the candy bars besides the check-out till in an absurd attempt at projecting the image that I was there for some other reason and not to buy God His toilet requirements.
"DON'T BE SO ABSURB, YOU ABSURD LITTLE EMISSARY!"
The hairs on the nape of my neck flattened themselves into my tonsils and I unconsciously hitched up my pants to say that it wasn't really me that needed the toilet rolls. No-one seemed to have noticed the deafening words as I handed over my last two bank notes in exchange for paper that would ultimately decry the existence of money itself.
When I re-entered God's living room He stood up and farted loudly before snatching the paper from me and motioning me into the corner with the dunce cap prior to leaving the room for what I assumed was His space of grace in the loo.
Thirty minutes later He returned with a calm expression on His face. I took out my pen and notepad and made ready.
"PUT THOSE AWAY YOU DUMPLING DUFFLE HEAD."
The words numbed my fingers and the book and pen slipped irretrievably from my grasp. I felt I was about to soil myself.
"GO THEN. DO YOU THINK I BOUGHT THOSE ROLLS FOR ME YOU STUPID CRETACIOUS CRANIUM? GO!".
Inside the bathroom the six toilet rolls had been meticulously unwound and each sheet neatly pencilled with the words "This one is for you, Use it wisely."
"AND WHEN YOU HAVE DONE DO NOT FORGET TO PULL THE CHAIN AND WIPE YOUR FEET ON THE WAY OUT. SAME TIME NEXT WEEK."
Perhaps soon I will be able to ask God the burning questions that are on my mind.
Nickumbonjoi UnKleshtroodleshtom
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THE THIRD MEETING
by Nickumbonjoi UnKleshtroodleshtom
religious affairs reporterI'd been standing in the corner wearing the dunce cap for 17 hours while God merrily chatted away on His mobile phone.
He was engrossed in a conversation with Lucifer and had devoured 14 glasses of mead and countless slices of toasted manna without even a glance in my direction. I ruminated on the cost of His respective astronomical and gastronomical telephone and snack fees.
I knew God was busy working on His latest book, The Stupidity of a Species, and, like all of God's books, the title said it all. In fact this was His largest book so far, 760 blank pages following on after the title page.
Nobody ever bought any of God’s books, primarily because of the fact that the titles always said it all and the content was so honestly obvious that everyone already knew it anyway. I gazed mesmerized by the single page in the typewriter with the words:
The Stupidity of a Species
by
GODand the large stack of untouched, blank paper ready to go the the publishers, who would faithfully reproduce it all in hard and softback and also extra large print for the hard of sight.
All I could do during this interview was to ponder on my ten most important questions for God.
- Why did He do such a poor job of designing the human nose?
- Why doesn't He invent odourfree armpits?
- Why is He a Him or is He She or both?
- Why did He invent the inquisitive mind?
- What is the real purpose of eyebrows?
- Do any of His angels wear dentures?
- Exactly what time and date does Armaggedon begin?
- What is question eight?
- If everything that exists is the truth, then what is a lie?
- Who owns the brand trade name to Manna?
Seed
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