Time(1): Jonathan Gives God A List. God Gives Jonathan What Fer
God left Jonathan alone during his early teenage years while He got over His aggravation at the boy. In terms of Eternity, one could say that He got over His aggravation in the blink of an eye, but as humans reckon time, it took ten years. So, Jonathan was sixteen before he heard from God again. When God finally turned His attention back to the boy, Jonathan had become a moderately good-looking teenager who was moderately intelligent, moderately shy, moderately obsessed with girls, moderately likely to drag his friends with Theodore's car, moderately hungry all the time, moderately polite, and moderately disgusting. Jonathan was a moderately unremarkable teenager in all respects.
God was displeased. As annoying as eccentricities are (especially the eccentricities of H^aGn'tl), He knew that the best prophets, seers, and ramrods had eccentricities up the gazoo. Eccentricities weren't something that God created (why would He create something that was such a pain in the butt?), they were something that already existed in each and every Light. God had no choice but to accept eccentrics and do the best He could with them. It wasn't a choice He'd have selected if He'd been given a list of choices, but He wasn't given a list there being no list to give and no one to give it. He's God...who's going to give God a list?
Who else?
Sixteen-year-old Jonathan sat, in tears, on the edge of his bed one evening and made a list of the things he hated about life and the things he loved. He had determined that life was not worth living.
He hated: (1) Heather Marchent, whom he had loved for three months, but who had dumped him because of her piano lessons, (2) piano lessons, (3) people who gave piano lessons, (4) people, like Heather, with obsessive desires to become concert pianists, (5) his mother, Heather's piano teacher and the person who'd put the idea into Heather's head, (6) his father, who tolerated his mother, (7) farmers, because his father was a farmer, (8) farms, their east hay field, especially, (9) hay, thus, cows, thus, milk, (10) eating things that went with milk, (11) eating things that things that gave milk ate, thus, all edible plant life, (12) eating things that ate things that things that gave milk ate, thus, all meat products, (13) Lava soap.
A baker's dozen.
He liked: (1) A story he'd read in Popular Science magazine about a big computer that eliminated the need for people. (2) Heather's bum.
So. Jonathan, in tears and not thinking straight, prayed to God to eliminate everything he hated and make two of everything he liked. God had been waiting for the blink of an eye for this.
"Thet's two stories about big computers and two bums. Gotcha."
"No, no! I want the computer, not the story!"
"Oh. Okay. Two computers 'n...do ya still want them bums?"
"--and the person they're attached to," Jonathan said. He realized that God was going to be a stickler for details.
"Shore thang. Two big computers and a li'l gal with two bums."
"No! That's not right! Two girls and two bums!"
"Hold on. Let's git this straight. Two big computers, two gals, and two bums. Thet's four bums total, ya know. Them gals come with a bum of their own...I cain't break up the set."
"Then don't! Just give me two computers and two girls...each with their own, integral bum!"
"Gotcha. Ya'll want me to embalm them gals?"
"No! Why would You do that?"
"Keeps 'em from stinkin'. They're gonna be daid, ya know."
"I don't want dead girls! What's the matter with You?"
"--just tryin' ta give ya what ya want. Ya'll asked fer two computers that kill folks 'n then you asked fer two people...innocent li'l gals, I might add. Anyway, I figgered ya'll wanted 'em daid."
"No. I want them alive."
"Oh. You wanna kill 'em!"
"No! Why would I do that?"
"--ta keep 'em from sufferin'. They're gonna starve ta death right soon. Fer that matter, so're you."
"I am? Why?"
"Ya'll asked me ta git rid a' thangs thet went with milk, thangs thet thangs thet gave milk eat, and thangs thet eat thangs thet thangs thet gave milk eat. Thet's everythin' there is ta eat."
"Oh."
Jonathan was stymied. God let him stew for several seconds. "So. What do ya want Me ta do, Jon?"
"Call me Jonathan!" Jonathan said, his temper flaring. "Jon's a syllable!"
"Here now," God said soothingly. "Let's jus' try ta keep this civilized. Now. If I do as ya ask, the whole world'll be empty 'cept fer ya'll, two computers thet want ta 'liminate ya, and two li'l gals...upon whose innercence ya intend ta visit yer carnal cravin's if I ain't mistaken."
Jonathan said nothing. He was sulking.
"--top a' thet," God continued with relish, "ya want Me ta 'liminate everthin' thet sustains life--shucks, even the oxygen'd go in a day 'r two--'n most a them thangs thet make life worth livin'. I'm talkin' about music, specific'ly. Ya want Me ta wreak havoc on piany players!
"What I'm hearin', boy," God said, doing His best imitation of a psycho-therapist, "is ya'll think life ain't worth livin' so ya want ta 'liminate all of it--'cept yer own and a couple a' innercent gals. Thet's purty dern selfish, Jonathan. Yer askin' Me ta take yer frustration out on other folks. If ya don't git yer way, ye're goin' ta fix it so's no one else does neither! I s'pose ever'time ya'll stub yer toe on a rock ye're goin' ta want all them rocks hammered inta sand. 'N then, when yer sloggin' in sand up ta yer caboose, yer goin' ta want all th' sand turned into glass. 'N, when ya see ever'body watchin' ya through th' glass, yer goin' ta want a world a' steel. 'N, when ya slip 'n break yer fool elbow on th' steel yer goin' ta ask fer eider down 'r some sech thang...which'll pro'ly make ya'll sneeze so yer gonna want clay. 'Course, when ya git clay wet, it turns ta yuck so ya'll want rocks agin..." God paused for a breath. "I thank ya've got rocks in yer head, Jon."
"Somebody does...."
"Careful there, boy...." God said kindly. He had the upper hand, so He could afford to be magnanimous. "Insults'll only stir My wrath."
"Keep Your damn computers, then," Jonathan said. "And Your damn women. Just leave me alone."
"Nuthin' finer," God said, "except, in yer present unbecomin' state a' mind, ya might bring harm to yerself. I thank I'd best stay a bit."
"Suit yourself. I'm going to sleep."
"--right smart idee, boy! I'll send ya'll a dream."
"A nightmare, I'll bet."
"Nope. Thet's some other fella. My dream'll be a revelation, a li'l peek into th' future. In th' mornin' you'll feel better...mebbe see thangs in a different shade a' black." God chuckled. "It'll be good fer ya."
"Big deal," Jonathan snarled, turning his back on God and closing his eyes.
God's temper flared and He began to raise an eyebrow. Then, He thought better of it and let the boy drift off to sleep. "I'll give ya a dream, ya li'l--"
Jonathan snored.
"I'll give ya a dream ya'll never fergit...."