The Lap of the Lord
“Let me get this straight, you want me to... suck your dick?”
"Not in so many words, but yes” God leans back, casually stretching his arms above his head. His white robe billows about him gently in the breeze. We’re sitting together on a white park bench. In the distance I can see children running around a brightly colored playground. Birds chip in the trees overhead as glittering rays of sunlight stream through the foliage. "Consider it... a test of faith."
“What does the Messiah's manhood look like anyhow?”
“What do you think it looks like?” God muses, prophetically.
“Like a big shiny golden dildo?” I shrug “Maybe some halos around it for good measure? And miracles shoot out the tip-- to give sight to the blind or cure polio. Or maybe God’s immaculate-ejaculate cripples you?”
God laughs. It’s a hearty sound like Santa Claus and every TV sitcom father rolled into one. “Really? I’m the same guy who dreamed up platypuses, aardvarks, and elephants… I made you in my image, and you think my divine-ding-dong is some gaudy sex toy?”
“Haha, gaudy. God-y.”
God chuckles “You always did like puns.”
“That’s the thing, you’re all knowing and all seeing. You already know if I’m going to do it or not."
“I suppose” God shrugs nonchalantly.
“So why even bother with this conversation?”
“You watched Titanic seven times in theaters.” He scratches his beard absently.
I sit there in silence. Sometimes it’s easy to forget He knows all things.
“Yeah so?”
“You already knew the ending. That doesn’t keep it from being a good movie.” He elbows me playfully. “And how does it end?”
“Jack drowns.”
“No before that. “
“Jack draws some boobies.”
“After that.”
I sigh. “The ship goes down.”
“Bazzzing son!” God makes some finger guns and points them in my direction playfully, a wide grin plastered across his face.
“That’s another thing. If we’re all your children, y’know lambs and such isn’t it incest to suck-off my savior?”
“Sure, you’re one of my creations. But you’re not my son” Got makes mock stigmata on his wrists, and then extends his arms out from him at his sides like a man on a cross. “You guys nailed my one-and-only to the wall, remember?”
I look down, dejected for a moment. God puts his cross-bearing-arm around me. It’s warm and comforting. God continues: “You’re more like, if I made a crude drawing and then jerked off to it.” He gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I still remember that by the way. You were one horny thirteen year old. Beating off to boxy boobs and triangle shaped vagainas. You’re definitely no Jack Dawson.” He’s rubbing both my shoulders now. His grip is so strong. I can feel his warm breath on my neck. It’s intoxicating, smelling like peanut butter and cinnamon.
“But isn’t it wrong?”
God smiles. “I impregnate virgin girls without their knowledge or consent. I make fathers set their kids on fire. I kill a bunch of innocent little babies because some people didn’t decorate their doorways the way I wanted. I drown half the planet, and give you guys a little rainbow at the end to say ‘oops sorry, my bad’... "
The will of God is strong. His hands are at my neck. Pushing and prodding my head at a slow sinking angle, like the Titanic going down, down. down.
“Heck the first guy I made… he wanted a girlfriend. And I could’ve easily made him a brand new person; I literally just made him out of nothingness five seconds earlier. But instead, I made him give up his rib, just so he can fuck his rib. His own rib! Isn’t that twisted? And you think a little fellatio bothers me?”
“Mhmmn mmm mhhmmm...”
“Shh… don’t talk with your mouth full my son.”
In the distance I can hear the children laughing and running on the playground. The birds chirp overhead as the leaves rustle in the trees.
And then, sirens.
- - - -
On the news that night, two men are shown led away in handcuffs: "...a local man and an escaped mental patient claiming to be God were caught engaging in sexual acts in a public park... "