Here's an oldie, about God, Noah and the WI.
And a picture of Tess. Just because.
(unfortunately, whereas the footnotes appeared at the bottom of the page in Word, here they appear, obviously at the bottom of the story, not sure what to do about that)
The Flood
Even a cursory look at the Bible
and some history books will prove that once God gets a good idea He uses it
again and again. And so it was the Noah
trick.
The problem had arisen because God
had spent the last century engaged in a heated philosophical debate. It had
started between Descartes and Pascal, but God didn’t really get involved until Nietzsche stuck his oar in. God ended the argument fifty years later by
suggesting to Nietzsche that maybe he would feel more at home in Hell. That shut Nietzsche up, and God, at a loose end, looked around Him at His marvellous
creation[1].
What a shock confronted Him! What
humanity had become in his absence. He had two choices. Give up on Earth and
create a new universe or do the old Noah thing again. In the end God went with
the flood.
He searched high and low for a
good and pure man to carry the world into a new era. He searched again, and
finally He made do with Vicar Molyneux.
Looking down on Vicar Molyneux
taking a quick fag break, God Spoke.
“Timothy.” The windows rattled.
The summer clouds seemed to dissolve as sunshine burst down upon the chosen
man. God had Spoken.
The Vicar looked up, blinded by
the light, “what the hell...”
“Timothy, I have an important
message...”
“Who is that?” He interrupted, looking up at the sky.
No one had ever asked Him that
before.
“It’s Me.” He replied just a
little sheepishly.
“Jeezus!”
“Close enough.”
“I have a message for you. The world has grown corrupt, evil is rife in
every household, mankind has been starved of goodness. You will make a boat,
large enough for two of every animal, yourself, your wife and your son.”
Tim rubbed his neck uncomfortably,
“Um… hey, God, I’m sure it is all part of your ineffable plan, but do you have
to speak so loudly?”
“Eh?” Damn, He was God, He
shouldn’t say things like Eh
“It’s... it’s my mother-in-law. She
sleeps in the afternoons, and if anyone wakes her she gets, well, grouchy”
“Only the righteous can hear my
voice, and when they hear it they will be joyful.” Not grouchy.
“Oh, that’s okay then. God! One
more thing before you go. What about all the people of the world?”
“They will die, for Evil has
entered their hearts.”
“So, I should stop preaching,
because they are all destined for Hell?”
“No, you must never give up on a
lost sheep.”
“But aren’t you giving up on them?”
hastily he added a respectful ‘sir’.
God sighed silently, yes He was
rather, wasn’t He.
“They will see the error of their
ways at death, and I will welcome them into my Kingdom.” He was starting to
regret the whole idea. But Vicar
Molyneux seemed to buy it.
“Anymore questions?”
“Just one. If I make the boat a
little bigger can I bring my son’s girlfriend along?”
There was silence.
“It’s just that .. well he’s
getting to that age now, and he really likes her, and I’m pretty sure if I
didn’t save her as well he wouldn’t speak to me for months. And when there are
only two people to talk to in the world months can seem like ... well a really
long time.”
God started to wonder whether this
was really a good idea. “Yes Timothy. You can take her along, they will need to
repopulate the world...”
“Hm, I’m not sure that my wife
will want him doing that.” Timothy
muttered
“... and you may take your mother
in law, the new world will need wisdom.”
“Well, I’d rather not, actually.”
“MAKE THE BOAT TIMOTHY!” God boomed.
He returned to Heaven, feeling sure that man used to be more respectful of him.
Timothy sat down, rubbed the back
of his neck, and wondered how much of the communion wine he had drunk. He had
another cigarette.
A car pulled up.
“Tim! Put that cigarette out at
once!” Yelled his wife across the garden. A few birds that had been hiding in
the bushes flew away in fear.
“Jenny! God just spoke to me, we
have been chosen.”
“Don’t you dare try and change the
subject, Timothy James Molyneux.”
He stubbed it out, “I did speak to
him, Jenny. He told me to make a boat, because he was going to flood the
world.”
Her face softened. She felt his
forehead.
“Were you reading your Bible in
the garden again?”
“Yes.”
“It’s like that time you thought
you turned water into wine, last year. Remember?”
“Well, I’m sure that I put water
into that communion jug...”
“Deary, too much sun isn’t good
for you, it confuses your mind. You doze off and dream about goodness knows
what.”
“But, I’m sure this really happened.”
“Well then, maybe you should buy a
canoe.”
“Where would I put all the
animals?”
She tutted. “I’m going to check on
mother, I’ve got the W.I. girls over this afternoon. Try and stay out of the
way will you?”
She walked off. He was unsure of
himself now. Had it been a Divine vision or -more likely - inadequate sun
cream?
He looked up to the sky for a
hint, the light blinding him. And on cue came,
“BUILD THE BOAT TIMOTHY!”
The W.I. girls were discussing their
long term plans to help the poor and needy.
“Of course, it may not matter
anyway, if Timmy is right.”
They all looked up.
“He seems to think that the world
is going to end, with a giant flood. Only he will be saved.”
“What made him come up with an idea
like that?” Asked Francine, a formidable middle-aged[2]
widow.
“God spoke to him, of course.”
“God spoke
to him?” That was Amelia, a tiny,
sharp-tongued raisin of a woman.
“Oh yes, they’re on first name
terms, donchya know.” She replied, sarcastically.
“Well, it could be possible. I mean, it’s happened before, in the Bible, and
Timothy is a good man.” Said
Francine, helping herself to another custard cream. Secretly she had rather a
soft spot for the Vicar.
“I think I will blow up my son’s
old dinghy, just in case,” laughed Dorothy.
The women joined in the laughter. But
Marge, who had been arguing with her husband for the past three years that they
shouldn’t spend their retirement money on a boat to sail the world in, decided
that she would give in to him this evening. And Janet decided that it was about
time that she had her son over for dinner (the youngest one, that is - the son
with the yacht.) For, all of the women had noticed that dreamy, other-worldly
quality the Vicar had, and none of them could deny, absolutely, that if God
spoke to someone, it wouldn’t be him.
The problem with W.I. women is
that, on the whole, there is nothing they enjoy more than a good gossip. And
they have a lot of friends, who also enjoy a good gossip. The rumour started as an offhand joke about a
Vicar’s apocalyptic message from God while tipsy on the communion wine. But of
course the end of this convoluted game of chinese whispers was that everywhere
you looked, town or country, new boats were being made to supply the demand.
The upshot was that the entire female population of the upper-middle class,
had, in a few weeks, heard ‘on the grapevine’ that a boat would be a wise
financial investment.
Husbands, of course, need little
persuasion to buy something that will make them superior to the neighbours. And
if you find it hard to believe that within the year the demand for boats was so
great that new companies were springing up every day, you have obviously never
had to pay a woman’s phone bill.
Timothy on the other hand was having a hard
time of it. Preferring the tried and tested methods, he had decided to acquire
an ark the old fashioned way, by building it himself in his back yard. It soon
came clear to him however, with his rudimentary workings-out in the back of the
Library’s ‘Encyclopaedia of Animals’, that either there had been a lot fewer
animals in Noah’s time, or they had been really
cramped.
By the time he had hit every one
of his fingers with his hammer, he decided that it really wasn’t working. He
sent away for a brochure.
“Jenny, love, look at the price of
these boats.” He remarked one evening in front of the television.
Being used to his insanity by now
she just sighed.
“We are going to have to sell the
house, and the car, and use Bobby’s college fund to get a decent sized one.”
“Timmy, enough is enough. We are not selling the house.” She used her
most severe tone, and it was all Timothy could do to mutter under his breath,
“a lot of use it will be when it’s full of water.”
That night Timothy prayed very
hard for a boat.
And God kindly obliged the next
day, when his wife’s car came screeching to a halt across the garden path.
“Timmy! Timmy! Timmy!”
She was jumping around like a
woman possessed, waving something in her hand.
“What ever is the matter?”
“We’re millionaires, Timmy! We
won! We won! We won the lottery!”
Mother came down the stairs in her
dressing gown and fixed such an evil stare on her daughter that Jenny was
immediately silent.
Understandably, Timothy had a very
difficult task persuading Jenny that every penny had to be spent on buying a
ridiculously over-priced boat. But eventually she gave in and handed the cheque over.
But new problems soon rose. Bobby
had split up with his girlfriend, and was resisting his father’s hints that he
should find a nice girl (preferably one with childbearing hips). His mother in
law had caught wind of what was happening and had demanded her own little boat,
to be towed along by the main one - a sort of watery version of a granny flat.
And most serious of all, he was
having immense difficulty in locating two of every animal.
So far he had two cats, two dogs,
two mice, hamsters, rabbits, guinea pigs, and two stick insects donated by
Bobby’s school. And even of that small collection he was starting to have
serious doubts whether either of the guinea pigs was female.
He had just started on the insects
and was digging for a worm, when Jenny shouted at him.
“You’re not bringing a worm in
here, the house already smells like a zoo, I’m not having anything crawling in
here.”
“Jenny! You’re a genius.” He
kissed her cheek.
That night as the village vicar
pulled on his black balaclava he wondered as to the sanity of what he was
contemplating. It wasn’t really stealing, he was giving two of every animal in
the zoo a chance to repopulate the glorious new world. And no matter what the
papers would say tomorrow he was sure that it was a good thing. The plan was a
crazy one he had to admit, but God had spoken to him in a dream the night
before and told him that it would happen soon, very soon. He was starting to
get desperate.
When he tried to envisage how it
would happen tonight, he could not. But God would help, he would make the
tigers walk meekly by his side, and the lions would sleep peacefully with the
lambs, as it is in heaven.
Timmy opened one puffed and
bleeding eye.
“Where am I?” His voice sounded
strange to him. Was that due to the damage to his throat, or the damage to his
ears?
The policeman sitting in the chair
beside him looked up. “Hospital. You should be in the funny farm, though you’d
probably try and steal all the animals in it.” He laughed at his own joke. “Go
on, I have to know, what the hell was your plan? Even if you got those tigers
into that van, what would you have done with them?”
Timothy sulked silently. His faith
in God’s omniscience was starting to wane.
“God told me to. Can I go to the
bathroom now?” He needed guidance.
While Timothy went in to his
en-suite bathroom Ken, the policeman waited outside.
When Ken went back to the station
he had lots to report to the curious guys.
“So I heard him, right, talking to
himself. ‘God’, he says, ‘God, what do I do now? I know this is all part of your
ineffable plan, but I can’t see through it.’ And he pauses, for a moment, like he
was listening to someone. ‘A slip?’ he yells. ‘What now? I’m under police
guard. They think I’m a mad man.” (The word ‘amen’ resounded around the police
station.) “So he pauses again, ‘OK,’ he says, “but what about the animals. How
do I get them all now?’ A minute later he comes out, smiling. I ask him if he
was going to try and steal any more animals. And he says no, he says that
God will recreate new ones for the new world.”
“Do you think we should call
psych. out?”
“Absolutely, the guy’s raving.”
“Absolutely, the guy’s raving.”
“So, who is with him now?”
“Jake.” Ken replied.
A little voice from the back of
the room piped up “No, I’m here!”
The policemen spent the next half
hour trying to figure out what had happened to the organisation of their
usually smoothly running team. It just didn’t add up. He had been left alone.
“Maybe it was God’s doing.” Suggested
someone sarcastically.
“Phone the hospital, he’s probably
still there. And someone go round to his house. Take the psychiatrist with you.
I want to know if he is a danger to anyone.”
The nurse at the hospital was
shocked to discover Timothy gone. He must have had an accomplice, to help him
walk any distance. But even still, she doubted whether he could have got very
far. She didn’t know, of course, that Timothy had the accomplice, and that anything was possible.
The policemen arrived at the
vicarage. The rain was starting to get worse, it had smeared the writing on the
note that was pinned to his door. It was almost illegible.
But eventually it was decided that
Timothy had ‘gone away for about 40 days.’
“He thinks he’s bloody Noah.”
“Eh?”
“The animals, the 40 days, the
rain. And I beat he’s bought a boat recently. He’s bloody Noah.”
“But how did he know it was going
to rain? The forecasts all said brilliant sunshine.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
God looked down, to check His
awful flood expecting to see a lone boat floating on top of the terrible deluge
that He had unleashed with a wave of the hand. What instead greeted His eyes
was a water party. Thousands of boats splashing over the roof tops. Boats
driven by inexpert hands coming dangerously close to each other all over the
landscape, but no harm done so everybody laughed, because they at least were
safe. Harassed mothers yelled at their curious children who stood too close to
the edge as they watched dogs, cats and cows alike floundering in the water. He had succeeded in wiping out only the lower
classes. In the water that covered the posh ends of town massive shiny yachts
glided through the water, the owners sat on their plush velvet seats and idly
watched as their children and husbands stood with large sticks, threatening
away any of the unfortunate that swum helplessly in the water.
God sighed.
_________________________
The deadline for the coursework
was today. They all had to bring in the projects that they had been working on.
Ned looked at his pathetic attempt
forlornly. This was the most important part of the course, it was the climax of
a long, long time of hard work. Ned imagined his teacher’s disapproving look,
the tutting and ridicule from his classmates, and that look of pity from
Alison. Alison. He had so wanted to impress Alison. Now he would be failed, and he
could imagine what his dad would have to say on the subject.
It all happened as he’d imagined. He
ran out of the class, red-faced. Alison - with her perfectly working model -ran
out after him. “Ned, wait! You tried so hard. It’s such a shame. The whole thing
is so sad...”
“I don’t suppose I will be seeing
you anymore, my dad is going to ground me for eternity now.”
“Well, good luck.”
“Don’t shout so much darling, it’s
not his fault.”
“Not his fault?” The booming words
seemed to echo around the cavernous room.
“You always excuse him, but he is
so lazy - he didn’t get that from my side of the family. And now, because he didn’t
pay any attention to what he was doing he has failed. 87 generations of this
family graduated from God
University, and they all created
wonderful worlds. I just don’t know how I am going to be able to face Clive at
church next week - his son got
honours you know.” His father picked up the universe with distasteful fingers
and gave it a withering look. “What the hell is this thing anyway?”
Lowering his shameful eyes away from
his father’s glare, Ned tossed the universe in the wastepaper bin and shuffled
out of the huge mahogany study.
[1] Although
theologists are right that God can be
everywhere at once, he does prefer to have his attention undivided when arguing
with dead philosophers, and around tea time.
[2]
Middle-aged are her own words. Timothy had secretly decided that if she was
still in the middle of her life she would live to be a very, very old lady.
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