Blessed Are The Meek
by Glenn Muir
Genre: Fantasy/Sci-Fi
Swearwords: None.
Description: After paying it a visit for old times’ sake, the Supreme Being finally comes to terms with fact that the Earth is beyond redemption.
Swearwords: None.
Description: After paying it a visit for old times’ sake, the Supreme Being finally comes to terms with fact that the Earth is beyond redemption.
“You will have to go there in person, Deity,” the sycophant said softly. “It need not be like the last time, you will just have to be more discreet. I mean what was all that nonsense about, telling them that you were your own son sent to save their mortal souls and to die for the sins of mankind?”
The Deity knew that his servant was correct, “Okay, Judas, I will go and sort out the Blue Planet presently.” Sometimes he wondered if it was worth all the grief, he had manufactured the planet using the finest components. Six days it took him, but it all seemed worth the effort at the time. Of course there had been a few problems along the way. It was fine until the planet cooled enough for the introduction of inhabitants. The dinosaurs had been a mistake, but he had directed a meteor towards the Blue Planet and it had resolved that particular problem.
He never thought that the humans would prove to be a much greater problem. After all, had he not made them in his own image? They were constantly getting out of control, creating havoc, fighting and killing each other. Worst of all, they were systematically destroying their home and persecuting the other creatures that lived there, creatures that he had also created.
He sighed and prepared himself for the long journey. He set the satnav carefully, there had of course been a time when he could have just appeared on the Blue Planet in an instant. Times, alas, were a- changing, the ever expanding Universe meant that he had to travel for four whole days. The Blue Planet was at the opposite end of the Universe from Headquarters and he now needed a powerful rocket to get there. After he had sorted out the problem with the Earth (the colloquial term for the Blue Planet), he would have to do something about all those black-holes that were threatening to suck in the entire Universe .
The trip went without a hitch, he parked his vehicle at a remote location in the southern hemisphere.
Things had changed a great deal since his last visit, the humans were everywhere. He remembered his sermon on the mount. It saddened him that he had been so wrong, the meek had not inherited the Earth, the rule of “Forte Main” had prevailed.
He had hoped that things would have turned out differently this time. This Earth was his prototype, a blueprint for all the millions of identical earths that were scattered in the ever growing vastness of the cosmos. He felt like one of those Chinese jugglers spinning plates, every time things started to go tits up he had to leave Headquarters and get things running properly again. Yes, being the ruler of the Universe was a full-time job. Sometimes he got fed up with it all and stayed at Headquarters and played chess or backgammon with Judas or one of the other sycophants. It was good to have a break sometimes, but the chaos resulting from his neglect always took ages to repair.
Mmmm, he thought, where will I start? He decided to have a quiet word with the various religious leaders first. He mingled with the crowds in the Vatican and using a bit of divine jiggery pokery slipped past the Swiss Guard into the Pontiff’s private quarters.
To say that the Pope was surprised at receiving a personal visit from God would be a massive understatement. In fact, he actually doubted the existence of the supreme being and had just gone along with the idea that there was one so that he could have a nice cushy life style.
“So, Your Holiness, what do you think causes all the evils of this world?” God asked softly.
“W-w-well, Divinity,” the Pope stammered nervously, “it is the warmongers and money men. It is unfortunately them that rule the world and cause untold misery for countless millions. I hope that you will sort them out with some divine intervention, Lord.”
He slipped back out of the Vatican and made his way to Mecca to visit the Head Imam of the Great Mosque. He took a bit more convincing about the divinity of his visitor, but after showing him a minor miracle involving turning wine into water, he was sure that this was indeed Allah.
He also thought that the word’s problems stemmed from the warmongers and money men but he added the Zionists and Christians into the equation too.
“Well, I’m their God, too, you know, they just call me different names,” God said as he departed.
He should perhaps have sought out some Rabbi or other in his old stamping ground of Palestine (after all, it was not that far from Mecca), but the bitter memories of his previous visit had put him off the idea.
The Dalai Lama greeted him warmly, “I have been waiting a long time for you to visit me, Lord.”
God must have looked a bit perplexed. “Your divinity is obvious to me, Lord.”.
His perspective of the reasons behind the woes of the World more or less concurred with the Pope and the Imam.
These meetings with the world’s religious leaders just confirmed what he had suspected all along, the Earth was in a bad way. Would he be able to save it this time? Was it worth saving? There were a million other Earths in the universe, but this one was the original. He wanted to save it, but a lot depended on the reactions he got when meeting the planet’s political leaders.
He started with the U.S. President, supposedly the most powerful man on the planet. He was under the delusion that he was God and did not take it too well when confronted with the real thing.
“It’s those damned Ruskies, Chinks and Muslim fanatics,” the President opined hotly. “They just spoil everything, but I know that you are on our side, after all, our motto is In God We trust.”
The Russian President was no less delusional, but laid the blame at the door of the Yanks and the Muslim fanatics .
All this made God feel like he was going round in circles, everyone blamed everyone else for the state of the world. This had been a huge waste of his time, the Earth was beyond any help. It was only a matter of time until some idiot pushed the wrong button and all life (apart from the giant mutant cockroaches that would evolve in the wake of the inevitable thermo-nuclear war) would cease to exist.
“Well that is that,” he thought, as he entered the rocket and set the satnav for his return to Headquarters. “Now what am I going to do about those damned black-holes?”
The Deity knew that his servant was correct, “Okay, Judas, I will go and sort out the Blue Planet presently.” Sometimes he wondered if it was worth all the grief, he had manufactured the planet using the finest components. Six days it took him, but it all seemed worth the effort at the time. Of course there had been a few problems along the way. It was fine until the planet cooled enough for the introduction of inhabitants. The dinosaurs had been a mistake, but he had directed a meteor towards the Blue Planet and it had resolved that particular problem.
He never thought that the humans would prove to be a much greater problem. After all, had he not made them in his own image? They were constantly getting out of control, creating havoc, fighting and killing each other. Worst of all, they were systematically destroying their home and persecuting the other creatures that lived there, creatures that he had also created.
He sighed and prepared himself for the long journey. He set the satnav carefully, there had of course been a time when he could have just appeared on the Blue Planet in an instant. Times, alas, were a- changing, the ever expanding Universe meant that he had to travel for four whole days. The Blue Planet was at the opposite end of the Universe from Headquarters and he now needed a powerful rocket to get there. After he had sorted out the problem with the Earth (the colloquial term for the Blue Planet), he would have to do something about all those black-holes that were threatening to suck in the entire Universe .
The trip went without a hitch, he parked his vehicle at a remote location in the southern hemisphere.
Things had changed a great deal since his last visit, the humans were everywhere. He remembered his sermon on the mount. It saddened him that he had been so wrong, the meek had not inherited the Earth, the rule of “Forte Main” had prevailed.
He had hoped that things would have turned out differently this time. This Earth was his prototype, a blueprint for all the millions of identical earths that were scattered in the ever growing vastness of the cosmos. He felt like one of those Chinese jugglers spinning plates, every time things started to go tits up he had to leave Headquarters and get things running properly again. Yes, being the ruler of the Universe was a full-time job. Sometimes he got fed up with it all and stayed at Headquarters and played chess or backgammon with Judas or one of the other sycophants. It was good to have a break sometimes, but the chaos resulting from his neglect always took ages to repair.
Mmmm, he thought, where will I start? He decided to have a quiet word with the various religious leaders first. He mingled with the crowds in the Vatican and using a bit of divine jiggery pokery slipped past the Swiss Guard into the Pontiff’s private quarters.
To say that the Pope was surprised at receiving a personal visit from God would be a massive understatement. In fact, he actually doubted the existence of the supreme being and had just gone along with the idea that there was one so that he could have a nice cushy life style.
“So, Your Holiness, what do you think causes all the evils of this world?” God asked softly.
“W-w-well, Divinity,” the Pope stammered nervously, “it is the warmongers and money men. It is unfortunately them that rule the world and cause untold misery for countless millions. I hope that you will sort them out with some divine intervention, Lord.”
He slipped back out of the Vatican and made his way to Mecca to visit the Head Imam of the Great Mosque. He took a bit more convincing about the divinity of his visitor, but after showing him a minor miracle involving turning wine into water, he was sure that this was indeed Allah.
He also thought that the word’s problems stemmed from the warmongers and money men but he added the Zionists and Christians into the equation too.
“Well, I’m their God, too, you know, they just call me different names,” God said as he departed.
He should perhaps have sought out some Rabbi or other in his old stamping ground of Palestine (after all, it was not that far from Mecca), but the bitter memories of his previous visit had put him off the idea.
The Dalai Lama greeted him warmly, “I have been waiting a long time for you to visit me, Lord.”
God must have looked a bit perplexed. “Your divinity is obvious to me, Lord.”.
His perspective of the reasons behind the woes of the World more or less concurred with the Pope and the Imam.
These meetings with the world’s religious leaders just confirmed what he had suspected all along, the Earth was in a bad way. Would he be able to save it this time? Was it worth saving? There were a million other Earths in the universe, but this one was the original. He wanted to save it, but a lot depended on the reactions he got when meeting the planet’s political leaders.
He started with the U.S. President, supposedly the most powerful man on the planet. He was under the delusion that he was God and did not take it too well when confronted with the real thing.
“It’s those damned Ruskies, Chinks and Muslim fanatics,” the President opined hotly. “They just spoil everything, but I know that you are on our side, after all, our motto is In God We trust.”
The Russian President was no less delusional, but laid the blame at the door of the Yanks and the Muslim fanatics .
All this made God feel like he was going round in circles, everyone blamed everyone else for the state of the world. This had been a huge waste of his time, the Earth was beyond any help. It was only a matter of time until some idiot pushed the wrong button and all life (apart from the giant mutant cockroaches that would evolve in the wake of the inevitable thermo-nuclear war) would cease to exist.
“Well that is that,” he thought, as he entered the rocket and set the satnav for his return to Headquarters. “Now what am I going to do about those damned black-holes?”
About the Author
West Lothian-born Glenn Muir is a fiftysomething postman working in Linlithgow. Previously a member of the West Lothian Song Writers Group, he is now with Quill, a poetry and writing group based in Bathgate.