"What's going to happen when I die?
If I met God in the unlikely event
after I died, the first thing I'd say is,
'Which one are you? Are you Zeus?
Are you Thor? Are you Ba'al?
Are you Mithras? Are you Yahweh?
Which god are you?'"
-- Richard Dawkins
It was a beautiful, sunny day.
Godless evolution was hard at work making life grand, so thought Dick as he got out of bed and jumped into the shower, all the time humming, "I feel pretty, oh so pretty.... Hahaha!"
He, a noted faithless man of science burped from the ooze of notoriety, dressed and stood before his mirror.
As he combed and counted his hairs he chanted his personal mantra, "I love my random self and every day in every way I am evolving to become more god-like! Hahaha! Perhaps today I will be Thor-ish. Hahaha!"
His kissed his spontaneously generated and well-evolved wife good-bye and bounded out the door to catch his bus.
As he crossed the street toward the bus stop, a friend caught his attention, calling and waving amoeba-like, "So, Dick, which god are you today?"
"Hahaha!" Dick laughed, waved back, and shouted, "I think perhaps today I am Th...."
In a Big Bang instant, with the force of Thor's hammer, the unseen bus smacked full speed into Dick knocking him into eternity, leaving behind a bloody oozy awful mass of a mess on the asphalt. The universe did not blink.
At the exact pre-moment of his death, Dick's mind filled with the profound immense thought, "OMG!"
Then the great smooshed out of body soul of Dick was rent unquestioningly speechless in the revelatory presence of stunning, vast, undulating swaths of everlasting knowledge and absolute truth.
In the first instant of his death, Dick's eternal awareness was subsumed by the grandeur, immensity, and massive beauty of the God of the Universe, Jehovah, the Alpha and Omega, the Creator and Sustainer of all things, even small him.
Dick knew God. Knew the love of God. Knew that he, slimy Dick, had been so, so wrong. Knew he was in abysmally deep doo-doo of his own making. Knew there was a heaven. Knew that he would not be in it.
In the second instant of his death, Dick was painfully crushed by the intense awful awareness of his own puniness and the stain and stench of his dank, despicable, dark, and smelly sinfulness.
Dick knew he was lost. Knew that evil was real. Knew he had been the servant-pawn of Satan. Knew he'd known it but denied it all along. Knew hell well deserved was his next stop.
In the third instant of his death, Dick was inflamed with the knowledge of the widespread havoc he had wrought in the lives of everyone he had touched through his books, lectures, and general ill-designed seething blasphemy.
Dick knew he had led many along the wrong path. Knew he was culpable. Knew he had no excuse. Knew he had blood on his hands.
Dick became aware of a persistent, stinging, searing, crisping, stinking, sizzling burning that engulfed him and all that his helpless spirit could sense in the sudden, sweltering, cloistered darkness.
Dick knew he was in hell, knew he was a worm, knew he would dry-weep endlessly for his own loss but more for leading others to their destruction, knew he had no one to blame but himself, knew he would never be known by anyone again for as long as he never died, forever in this static, non-evolving, inextinguishable, always burning but never consuming cauldron of hell.
"OMG?" he thought cryingly, his teeth gnashing, "OMG?"
But there was no answer.
The worm turned and burned endlessly despite the absence of any earthly scientific evidence for its existence.
Then Dick awoke.
It was a beautiful, sunny day.
He had been dreaming.
He thought to himself, "My monkey brain neurons and synapses must be misfiring again. Hahaha! Probably more of gravy than of grave, what? Hahaha!"
He shook himself and stretched.
Godless evolution seemed still hard at work making life grand as he got out of bed and jumped into the shower, all the time humming, "I feel pretty, oh so pretty.... Hahaha!"
Dick dressed and stood before his mirror as a nagging sense of dread wormed through his simmering self-consciousness.
As he stepped outside a subtle scent of sulfur stained the sweet spring air.
'"It is written:
'As surely as I live,' says the Lord,
'every knee will bow before me;
every tongue will confess to God.'"
-- Romans 4:11, NIV
* It's flash fiction Friday! (To learn more about FFF, click here and scroll down.) Flash fiction is nothing more or less than a very, very short short story.
I'm not sure what seeded this story, but here it is, full-bloomed, created, by design, and, I think, funny and tragic.
And please remember, it's *fiction* -- a made up story/parody -- not fact (or reporting or editorializing or opinionating). Although, stories sometimes do a better job of communicating and illuminating truth.
Enjoy it. Hate it. Ignore it. It's your freewill-exercising call.
What do you think of short short or flash fiction? What interpretations do you attribute to my story? Share your thoughts in the comments section!