This is an except from a fun story about what I think an interview with the Almighty might be like. Being more Agnostic than anything else, I gave God a bit of a sense of humor because being in charge of our rat race you would have to have a sense of humor or go mad – IMHO. Unfinished, the story stands at over 17k words.
What does this mean I have been granted an interview with God.
George looked at the letter which had been dropped through the mail box with only his name written upon it.
It has come to my attention that I have been so busy dealing with the greater good and evil of the universe that I have neglected to pay attention to the little things in life. In an effort to reconnect I have chosen three individuals with no personal religion to update me by allowing them an interview.
Please come ready with some questions to ask. Our first meeting is scheduled for 6 am Friday, in the cardboard box near the tunnel at the south end of the park.
God (AKA too many names to list on this single sheet of note paper.)
Friday? Why Friday. Hasn’t he heard you are supposed to start nothing on Friday. George took the mail into the living room and set them down in a nice neat pile. Everything except the letter. He looked at it again.
PS I am not superstitious, Friday is as good a day as any and if you don’t want your friends and family to think you are an absolute nut ball then I would suggest you bring a can of pepper spray and come alone.
Wait a minute that was not there when I read it the first time. George looked up at the ceiling as if to recall his first scan of the letter. But I have to work that day. He went to reread it again.
PSS Your office is closing Friday for the day. There will be a funeral to attend in the afternoon so now you have only yourself as an excuse.
George folded the letter back up and put it away in the envelope. He turned it face down next to the pile of mail and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and then over to the cupboard where he kept the booze and poured himself a stiff double malt scotch.
I am losing my mind and thank god nobody … oh sorry thank goodness no one is here to witness this happening or I would lose any plausible deniability. He laughed into the scotch perched at the edge of his lips and proceeded to down half of what he poured.
In the park in a cardboard box. Have to admit I never would have chosen a place like that but if you want privacy that would just about guarantee you get it. Normal people avoid cardboard boxes and the homeless like they are a plague. He sat down and switched on the TV it was Monday evening and there was nothing like a good dose of the news to bring life back into prospective. Hurricane’s, suicide bombers and the latest rampage shooting at a shopping mall. The news man seemed pretty chipper in reporting no dead just wounded. Well damn if that wasn’t the best news of the night. George laughed but felt a bit sick at the thought that it was even considered a good outcome at all.
His mind, as much as it tried to lose the existence of the letter, leapt right back on it. What’s that old saying tell yourself not to think about something and you have to think about it not to. It never quite made sense to George but then lots of things didn’t make sense.
It took a whole thirty minutes for George to realize he had some great questions for God. For a second, he couldn’t believe he had even thought that but he did. Most of George’s friends agreed he was agnostic not an unbeliever but just wanting proof before sticking his foot in it. George always said proof was logic for him not for everyone else just for him. If he experienced it and it wasn’t proven to be a bit of bad beef as scrooge claimed the ghost of Marley was, then that was all the proof he needed.
A sudden undeniable fear sprung up in George. If I go and this is for real then I will have to believe in God but …. He got up off the couch and went over to the letter. The color of the envelope had changed. When he first picked it up it was blue with a golden sheen now it was orange. The orange was a much nicer color. George thought. For no reason George pulled the letter out again except this time it was two sheets instead of just the one.
Rules of Engagement …
Bring only yourself and an expresso con pana double, two shots of carmel syrup in a grande cup. Add a splash of water before topping up with the cream. Pete’s coffee opens at 5:30 am one block from the park.
Bring the letter you are holding now.
Bring a pen and notebook for writing in.
An umbrella, it is going to rain.
Sometimes simple is the most powerful so keep your questions simple.
Some questions are unanswerable for numerous reasons so if they are passed on, just let them be.
George finished reading the letter again and went to bed. This was just about more than he could handle. The next morning George walked right pass the mail on the hall table and out the door to work. He had dreamt that night of sleeping in a cardboard box. Unbathed, unshaven and homeless. He walked through the park on his way to work and there were no boxes anywhere to be found, unless you count the happy meal box next to the garbage can. He stopped to pick it up and move it into its final resting place.