At Home with The Gods

At Home with
The Gods

A newly discovered Biblical fragment,
just in time for the holiday season.

by Henry Charles Mishkoff

"But I can't even see anything," Mrs. God whined. "I even tried squinting, it doesn't do any good. I can't see anything."

"There's not much of anything to see," God pointed out, reasonably. "I haven't created anything interesting yet. Just the heaven and the earth."

Being an occasionally remorseful God, God immediately regretted giving Mrs. God an opening. And sure enough, Mrs. God, quick on the uptake as ever, pounced on it. "Well, sure, you get to move upon the face of the waters," she said, and if God could have seen her, he knew that she would have been pouting. "Because you're all omnipotent and everything," she added, with more than a hint of bitterness. "But I can't even see anything."

God sighed. "Let there be light," he said.

And, of course, there was light.

In spite of herself, Mrs. God emitted a low whistle. "Wow," she said, grudgingly. "That's good."

But not being an easily impressed God, God shook his head. "No contrast," he pointed out – and with a quick wave of his hand, he divided the light from the darkness. "That's Day," he explained helpfully, pointing to the light. "And over there, that's what I call Night."

But Mrs. God was frowning. "I can't figure out if this – What did you call it? Light? – I can't figure out if it's a particle or if it's a wave. I mean, if I look at this way," she said, tilting her head fetchingly to the left, "it looks like a particle. But if I look at it this way..."

"Actually, it's both at the same time," God said, trying not to sound like he already regretted letting there be light. "It's something new I've been working on."

"It's a particle," Mrs. God said brightly, craning her neck back to the left. "It's a wave," she said, swinging her head back the other way. "It's a particle... it's a wave... it's a particle..."

Not being an especially patient God, God interrupted Mrs. God, whose fascination with light was in danger of becoming a song, and possibly a dance. "I think I'll create some plants, and then some animals," God said. "And then maybe some people." And then, although he was not a particularly inquisitive God, God asked Mrs. God: "What do you think?"

"I hope they can swim," Mrs. God called back over her shoulder, as she bounced off toward the kitchen, still swinging her head from side to side. "Because you haven't created any dry land yet."

Being a merciful God, God resisted the temptation to smite Mrs. God, and instead he pushed the water back so that some dry land showed through. That's very good, God thought. I'm on a roll.

"I'm going for a walk," he called off toward the kitchen. "I want to take a closer look at what I've wrought." And being a distracted God, God tripped over his own feet as he headed for the door. But being an agile God, God quickly recovered his balance, but not before making a mental note about the relationship between pride and falling.

"That looks more like mud to me," Mrs. God called after him. "Don't even think about coming back into the house until you wipe that 'dry land' off your sandals."

[ Selected Writings ]
©2016 Henry Charles Mishkoff