Dear diary,
Now, once Jehovah God finishes his brief exchange with Ishmael, his compatriots Beelzebub & Moloch arise from their places at the picnic, and they begin to conspire in hushed tones while looking toward Gomorrah.
Hagar, noticing the pair’s behavior, asks: “What are you two murmuring about over there?”
“Ah! sorry,” sez Moloch; “we were just trying to decide whether it would be worth attempting to return to Lot’s homeland tonight.”
“Yes,” Beelzebub adds: “for we’re travelling on foot, and it’s already early evening — it might be pitch black by the time we get there.”
“Well, Reptile Paradise is a pretty big city,” sez Hagar, “isn’t it? I mean, I’d think it would be well lit.”
“True,” sez Beelzebub. “Good point.”
“I will accompany you,” sez a voice from behind them. It seems to have come from the house. They all turn to look, and they now see, emerging from the drapes of the portico, Sarah’s boy Ishmael. “I’ll gladly chaperone you to the city,” he repeats; “I was thinking of visiting my kinsman Lot soon, anyway; for I’ve never seen his land — he has only visited us, here in Mamre; as I have been told to avoid the concrete jungle, on account of the segregation of the powers: legend has it that Lot’s nation shall remain on peaceful terms with Abram’s nation ONLY IF the respective populaces abstain from intermixing. That reasoning sounds like hogwash, to me; and I was told that when I reached the age of adulthood, I could wander where I wish. So I’d like to see the wizard. (That’s my pet name for the talking portrait, which is rumored to rule the place.)”
“Wait one sec.” Jehovah steps forth with his hand extended to stop the boy from approaching further. “That’s a fine idea,” sez the God; “however, before we leave—” Jehovah, while speaking, heads over into the picnic and wraps his arms around his two associates, “I say, before leaving, I’d like a word in private with my travelmates. There’s some unfinished business we need to discuss.”
“Business? I thot you said it’s all pleasure with you,” Sarah ribs him.
“Unfinished pleasure,” Jehovah nods; “yes, that is correct.”
Now, after they step a few paces away from the group, “What is it, boss?” whispers Beelzebub.
“Look, do you see that lad yonder?” sez Jehovah. “He’s the one I was telling you about. That’s Lilith’s next project. But I talked her into allowing me to have a backup, this time, in case anything goes awry. That’s why we went to the trouble of doing all the extra work that we’ve accomplished recently. Now, here’s what I’m trying to decide: Being that Ishmael shall surely become a great and mighty nation, and all the earthlings shall be blessed in him, should we let him into our secret scheme for Lot’s city?”
“Well, you did say that you got a backup,” reasons Moloch.
“Yeah, but I’d rather avoid having to switch predestinies,” explains Jehovah. “In truth, I’d like to keep both fates, if that proves feasible — thus we might convoke more than twice the splendor, causing the perfection of this next world to surpass all precedent. It could even beguile the math of the serpentine formulas. For I know that this seed and its double will bring forth lines that will certainly fast-track the Poetic Genius. And you know what that means: Old flames will awake, when these sparks shoot the gap.”
Now Jehovah holds out his hand in the center of their huddle, and Moloch and Beelzebub follow suit:
“Be thou me!” they cry.
Then, returning to the picnic, Jehovah comes and places his arm around Ishmael. “Son,” he sez, “your kinsman Lot’s homeland, the cities of the plain, Sodom and Gomorrah, where we’re gonna go tonight, are two of the finest metropolises in this galaxy — maybe even in the universe. It’s hard for me to resist the urge to just take them up into heaven, so that I can keep them all for myself. Problem is: I don’t have enough Brimstone Fire-Wagons to haul away their ecstasies — & you know what they say: ‘Whoever desires to bring home the wealth of the Indies must first be able to CARRY the wealth of the Indies.’ Yes, such a task would be very grievous; therefore I let these paradises remain, with all their attractions, right here on earth; and I simply visit them frequently. The only other place I return to more often than Mr. Lot’s homeland is the Dark Tower of Ur, which offers a wholly alien type of satisfaction — I find the delights compliment one another, those of Shinar and those of Gomorrah. So I’m glad that you’re accompanying us on this trip tonight. We’ll hike down there together, and you can see for yourself whether the blisses that they offer live up to my rapt advertisement. If they don’t, let me know & I’ll show you what you’re doing wrong. (In other words, you won’t be disappointed.)”
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