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Days one through six, etc.

You keep on asking me that--"Which day was the hardest?" Blockheads! They were all hard. And of course, since I'm omnipotent, they were all easy. It was Chaos, to begin with. Can you imagine Primeval Chaos? Of course you can't. How long had it been swirling around out there? Forever. How long had I been there? Longer than that. It was a mess, that's what it was. Chaos is rocky. Fuzzy. Slippery. Prickly. As scraggly and obstreperous as the endless behind of an infinite jackass. Shove on it anywhere, it gives, then slips in behind you, like smog, like lava, like slag. I'm telling you, chaos is--chaotic. You see what I was up against. Who could make a world out of that muck? I could, that's who--land from water, light from dark, and so on. It might seem like a piece of cake now that it's done, but back then, without a blueprint, without a set of instructions, without a committee, could you have created a firmament?

Of course there were bugs in the process, grit in the gears, etcetera--bringing forth grass and trees on Day Three and not making sunlight until Day Four, that, I must say, wasn't my best move. And making the animals and vegetables before there was any rain whatsoever--well, anyone can have a bad day. Even Adam, as it turned out, wasn't such a great idea--those shifty eyes, the alibis, blaming things on his wife--I mean, it set a bad example. How could he expect that little toddler, Cain, to learn correct family values with a role model like him? And then there was the nasty squabble over the beasts and birds. OK, I admit I told Adam to name them, but--Platypus? Aardvark? Hippopotamus? Let me make one thing perfectly clear--he didn't get that gibberish from Me. No, I don't need a planet to fall on Me, I know something about subtext. He did it to irritate Me, just plain spite--and did I need the aggravation? Well, as you know, things went from bad to worse, from begat to begat, father to son, the evil fruit of all that early bile. So next there was narcissism, then bigotry, then jealousy, rage, vengeance! And finally I realized, the spawn of Adam had become exactly like--Me.

No Deity with any self-respect would tolerate that kind of competition, so what could I do? I killed them all, that's what! Just as the Good Book says, I drowned man, woman, and child like so many cats. Oh, I saved a few for restocking, Noah and his crew, the best of the lot, I thought. But now you're all back to your old tricks again, just about due for another good ducking, or maybe a giant barbecue. And I'm warning you, if I have to do it again, there won't be any survivors, not even a cockroach! Then, for the first time since it was Primeval Chaos, the world will be perfect--nobody in it but Me.
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Author:Appleman, Philip
Publication:The Humanist
Date:Jan 1, 1996
Words:497
Previous Article:The nature of Promethean ethics.
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