A convo sorta

Dear diary,

How have you been? I haven’t talked to you in forever.

Oh I’ve been busy working; when you have kids, you never have any time: every day is the same: I take the kids to school, then I go to work, then when I’m done with work I go back to the school and attend the kids’ sporting events, then we come home and the kids go and play their video games while I prepare a meal, then we meet at the dinner table and fall asleep eating; and at sunrise we all wake up exhausted with our heads in our spaghetti plates, so I have to hurry and hose off the kids and drive them to school again, and of course I’m late for work.

Sounds rough. Have you ever thought of asking God for help.

God? who is that?

He is a spirit. He is pure love. He created you, and he wants you to be happy. If you ask for anything, he gives it to you. I can’t believe you’ve never heard of God.

Well, it’s true. What must I do to begin receiving my promised benefits?

Just pray.

Pray? What’s that?

You know: pray! Fold your hands, close your eyes, and say: “Dear God,” and so on.

OK, I’ll try it now. Dear God, please come and help me raise my children. And make my day job easier. – Wow, that worked: God is helping me dress the children in the morning. He is making us breakfast. He is entertaining the children while I drive us all to the school. Now he helps me get to work on time, and he helps me labor better than I am accustomed to doing. Then he gives me a more relaxed commute, when my workday is over. He helps my kids’ teams win their sports games. The teams of their opponents are humiliated. God then does half the work of preparing the evening meal with me, while also helping my children with their homework, and playing video games with them afterward: he helps them pass each level like a pro. Then God carries the kids in his arms and places them in their rooms, and tucks them into their beds, and reads them a story until they fall asleep, while I take a shower. Then God and I do the dishes together, and then we climb into bed, and God helps me to fall asleep, and he keeps the house safe all night. When a coyote comes wandering outside our window, God destroys it. This is great. Thanks for telling me about God.

No problem. When you know about something that might help someone, why would you keep it a secret? Since you found God so helpful, I might as well ask: Have you ever met the Devil?

The Devil? No. Who is that?

Not who but what. The Devil is a huge machine that produces spacetime and causes everything to function.

Sounds rough. Why would I want a Devil in my life? Should I pray to that, too?

No, don’t pray. Stay away: flee from the Devil. If you see a massive contraption coming your way, nicking off instants and spreading reality, ask God to protect you. That’s why I brought up the Devil; I thought that if you were unaware of it, I could help you avoid a pitfall.

Jeez, thanks. Yeah, I asked God, and he threw the Devil into Tartarus for me, so it should not be causing any trouble until it finds a way to escape.

Good to hear. Now I’m heading off to fight in the First World War. May God be with you.

May God be with you, too. Thanks again.

Ah, now I’m finally alone in the battlefield, as I desired from the beginning. Bombs are bursting, cannons firing, troops are marching over the hillside, with airplanes flying overhead.

I am aiming my machine gun and shooting point-blank at a can of beans, but I cannot hit this target. So I set down the firearm. I toss a rock instead, and it knocks over the can.

An enemy soldier pops out of a trench nearby and shoots my shoulder with his pistol. I counterattack by tossing very hard crackers at the man. One of them hits his chest; he drops his weapon and gasps for air.

I throw an onion, and it hits this soldier’s face. He rubs his eyes; then puts on his gas mask and runs away.

One of my countrymen who is fighting on my side now comes and delivers me a letter – it says:

Dear Sir, I hope you are well. My heart is warmer for knowing that I have a friend who is a brave soldier from another nation. Since an ocean is fixed between us, and we are never to meet, I have the courage to put my heart on paper like so: I love you, I love you, I love you. From: Mary Brown.

This makes me smile. I bring the letter near to my face and inhale its aroma, then I delicately bite the paper.

When sliding the precious letter back in its envelope, I notice that there was a photograph included. Mary Brown is beautiful indeed. I run my fingers over her image and sigh.

While I am doing this, the enemy soldier who attacked me earlier sneaks up behind me and seizes me with his hands. He carries me away as his personal prisoner.

[To be continued . . .]