Scott Taylor
Scott Taylor
Scott Taylor hails from Raleigh, North Carolina. He is a writer and a musician, and an avid world traveler. His short stories and poetry have appeared in numerous print and online publications, including Vast Chasm, Ghost City Review, Oddball, Literary Hatchet and Swifts and Slows. His novels 'Chasing Your Tail' and 'Screwed' have been released with Silver Bow Publishing, and his novellas 'Freak' and 'Ernie and the Golden Egg' are slated for inclusion in an upcoming anthology with Running Wild Press. He graduated from Cornell University and was a computer programmer in a past life.
The Great Reckoning, At Last
God sat on his cloudy throne, looking down.
"Those monkeys have made a real mess of things," he said to himself between slugs of honeyed mead. "Perhaps it's time I paid them a visit."
He figured that Moses would be the best one to talk to about the whole fiasco. Moses was now the owner of a used car dealership in Pittsburgh.
"Moses, my Ten Commandments are being ignored. Why is this so?" asked God.
"Good question," Moses said.
"But I left you in charge," God complained.
"They're a hard bunch to organize; what can I tell you?" said Moses.
"I mean, they've been ripping the place to shreds for the past few thousand years. What is wrong with them?"
"You're full of good questions."
"And you don't have any answers."
"True. But then again, I'm not God."
God was irritated by Moses' rather flippant attitude but decided not to demote him, at least not just yet.
"Go forth and make the people see the error of their ways," God commanded. "Inform them they must repent of their waywardness and start obeying my goddamn laws. That I have spoken to you and made it thusly."
Moses said he'd get to it just as soon as he could, perhaps on Friday after the dealership closed. God whisked away, and Moses returned to his paperwork.
On Friday he went rummaging around in the garage. "Now where could those pesky tablets be? I know I left them around here somewhere." Perhaps his wife had thrown them out; they were getting old and crumbly and could easily have been mistaken for garbage. After a lengthy search, he came up with nothing. Oh well, he'd just have to wing it.
The next day he went to the park down by the river. He stood in front of the fountain with his arms raised until a small crowd had gathered to investigate. Then he began.
"O people of the Earth, the Lord is displeased. He seeks to mend our broken ways and return us to the true path, the path long ago laid before our feet."
"What is he wearing, Mommy?" the little boy asked.
"That's called a robe, honey," she replied in a half whisper.
"Why is he wearing it?"
"I have no idea."
"He looks hot."
The people were already getting bored, so Moses tried a little melodrama, looking skyward and shaking his arms about. It would have worked better with the staff, but that had gone missing from the garage too. Zipporah had an absolute compulsion for throwing all his old stuff out. The little crowd dispersed, and Moses was left standing there by himself. At least it was a nice day out. He went over and watched the waves for a while.
God showed up again a few days later, "So how did it go?"
"Not too good, to be honest. No one was really listening. Wasn't much of a crowd either."
"You must try again. You must make them listen."
"How am I supposed to do that?"
"Do you not remember the Red Sea? The speech you gave at Mount Sinai?"
"Did I give a speech at Mount Sinai? It was a long time ago; I don't remember."
"Of course you did. But you're missing the point. The point is, the people once followed you, and they will follow you once more. You must try again."
Moses decided to try a different tack this time. He went downtown on Saturday afternoon and picked the busiest corner he could find and stood on it. The kid was right; the robe was hotter than hell.
"The Lord commands you to repent! O Lord we beseech Thee, in Thy wisdom and Thy mercy! Make us worthy once more of Thy infinite blessings! Repent, all ye sinners! The hour of Judgment draweth near!"
This used to work a lot better back in the old days; it was a lot harder now. The people were all busy wandering around shopping and paying parking meters, and no one was even glancing in his direction. 'Maybe I should try burning a bush,' Moses muttered under his breath.
A cop came over. "Come on buddy, that's enough. You don't have a permit for this anyway."
"A permit? To speak the Lord's will?" Moses gasped, feigning astonishment. "He has spoken to me directly; I am his appointed messenger."
"Yeah right, and I'm the Queen of England. Come on, let's go."
Next it was a telegram-apparently God was too busy for any further personal visits. 'You are not applying yourself,' it read. That was all it said. This guy had a lot of nerve, Moses thought to himself. Goes missing for two thousand years and then just waltzes in and expects me to put things right. I mean, I'm about as old as he is, I'm not exactly some spring chicken anymore. Problems with my eyes and my hips and all that. Moses decided to wait for further instructions. If God thought his little telegram was somehow going to work miracles all on its own, he was mistaken. Moses could apply himself all he wanted, and he was still going to be ignored in parks and get tossed off of street corners and things.
A week later and another telegram. 'I will make them see the light,' God said, as cryptic as ever. But this sounded more like the real deal. Moses started letting his beard grow out in advance of the event, washed his robe a second time, went to the store, and bought himself a new staff (actually a walking stick designed for hiking in the woods, but whatever, close enough). Then one day he went outside and saw a message there in the sky, written in smoky letters about a mile high: 'MOSES WISHES TO SPEAK WITH YOU. GO TO THE PARK ON SATURDAY.' He went back to the park on Saturday, and there were only a few people there, the same thing as before. Apparently they hadn't gotten the memo.
God paid Moses another visit.
"Look, something has to be done. They are acting up pretty badly, as you may or may not have noticed. They dump garbage into the seas; they belch filth into the sky. They sleep with their neighbor's wives, and they kill each other all the time; I mean it's like some sort of sport with them. And taking my name in vain, don't even get me started there. The language has just gone right out the window. No, but seriously, they really are destroying this nice world I made for them. And it's the only one. Really, it is; I would know. I mean, what do they think they're going to do? Go to Mars and live there? Do they have any idea how cold it is there? Perhaps you should tell them that."
"Why can't you just tell them yourself? Why do you always need me to do it?"
"I'm not big on public speaking. Never have been. Besides, I feel like they need to hear it from one of their own."
"You tried that once already, and it didn't go so well."
"I'm aware of that. But things change. Okay, so here's the deal - I need you to go to the park again this weekend, and this time I guarantee you a bigger audience. They'll get the hint this time, believe me. Put some flyers up around town too; that might help. I want this place covered in flyers by the end of the week."
"Listen, no offense, but I have a job, you know. I'm a pretty busy guy. The mortgage isn't exactly going to pay itself. Anyway, if there's some cataclysm scheduled for this weekend that's really going to put the fear of You into them, then I seriously doubt we're going to need the flyers."
"I am the Lord your God. I have spoken."
"Mysterious ways and all that," Moses grumbled.
"I don't appreciate the irreverent tone," God said.
"And I don't appreciate the short notice."
"You do realize that I'm God, right? That I can wipe out your existence without even raising my little pinky finger?"
"You'd be doing me a favor. Do you have any idea what sales were like last quarter?"
God went home. Moses went looking for his favorite sandals, the ones that were the most comfortable, all broken in and fitting perfectly. He figured he was about to do some serious walking with this flyer’s business and didn't want to get any blisters. He walked around for an hour and couldn't find them anywhere. He could never find anything in that house.
"Zippy!" he shouted down the stairs. "Have you seen my sandals?"
"Which ones?" she called back from the kitchen.
"You know the ones. My favorites are the really beat-up pair with the broken straps."
"Those things are as old as the hills. I don't know why you still wear them."
"I know that, I want them anyway."
"Try the closet in the bedroom."
"I did, they're not there."
"Look under the bed."
Moses looked under the bed, and they weren't there either. He'd have to go with the newer pair.
He took a few days off from work and spent them walking the streets, plastering flyers all over everything. He coated the city of Pittsburgh with them, every telephone pole, every bulletin board, every available patch of window and wall. Half of them would probably be torn down within twenty-four hours, but at least no one could accuse him of shirking his duties. The message printed on the flyer was simple, short, sweet, and right to the point: 'Hear the final Word of God this weekend only, at the park down by the river. The one with the big fountain.' If God wanted anything more eloquent than that, then he could write the damn thing himself next time. This whole adventure seemed pretty half-baked anyway-he'd be surprised if even five people showed up.
And then it was the weekend and Moses was heading down the street, on his way to the park. Nothing had happened yet, but clouds were starting to roll in and the skies were darkening somewhat. As he reached the park and made for the fountain the light had dimmed even more. The heavens were all but black now and the sun had been blotted from the sky; people were coming out of doors to see what was going on, a little group of them drifting over to join the few dozen or so already standing around the fountain. Looked like the flyers had drummed up a few of them, at least.
Moses stepped up on the raised pedestal supporting the fountain and began to preach.
"Friends! We are gathered here today to atone for our past transgressions. The Lord has
spoken to me; yea, I am his prophet. All ye sheep must be brought back into the fold. What was old shall be made new again. Your souls and mine shall be renewed, bathed in the eternal grace and glory of the Lord. A new dawn shall break, an age of wonderment, full of…"
He was interrupted by a new development, a thin beam of golden light streaking down from the sky, a sliver of sunlight piercing the heavy rolling blanket of clouds. Moses became more animated and started flailing his arms around, "It is the Lord our God, speaking to us from on high!"
"It's an eclipse, you jackass," the guy in front said.
"IT IS NOT AN ECLIPSE!" Moses shouted, almost falling off the pedestal in his enthusiasm. "It is a divine miracle! The end days are upon us! Repent, ye sinners, repent!"
But now the crowd was entirely distracted by this change in the weather and had its collective back turned. Moses put his arms down and waited patiently for their attention to be returned to him, but presently they were shambling toward the river as one, moving like drugged and grounded moths toward this strange new source of light. The clouds shifted and the sunbeam disappeared, but then soon the storm began to break and the darkness was slowly lifted. Once again Moses was left by himself, standing there helplessly at the fountain, a shepherd without a flock, a prophet without a plan.
"They're pissing me off," God said the next day. "That's it, I've had it. I'm going to send them a message they won't soon forget."
"What are you going to do?" Moses asked.
"Spoil the party. Rain on their parade. It's been a long time coming, and they know it too. Listen, I'm going to give you an Ark so that you'll be safe from all this. If you float towards the North Pole, I think you'll probably make out all right."
"An Ark? I thought that was Noah's area of expertise."
"Yeah, you can bring him along too. He's living in Cleveland right now. The two of you can ride together."
God told Moses the Ark would be waiting for him up in Hudson Bay, way up there in Canada. Then, he whisked away again. A month passed, and then it was showtime. God gathered up a huge-ass ball of lightning and smote the ground with it. The Great Lakes were instantly integrated with the Atlantic Ocean. The heavens were unleashed as torrential rains began to fall. Thunder crashed and lightning flashed, there was much keening and wailing and gnashing of teeth. Then the rains abated, the sea levels began to recede, and everything went back to normal. Right back again, as if nothing had ever happened-business as usual, no change in plans, no repenting of sins or New Year's resolutions or anything like that. Moses steered the Ark back to Canada and returned to his used auto dealership, whilst Noah went back to Cleveland to resume doing whatever he'd been doing before. God was disgusted, to say the least, but instead of hurling any more objects around he decided to just give up and forget the whole thing. The sun was scheduled to blink out in a few billion years anyway. He got himself another mead and turned the cricket match on. The Angels were playing the Saints; the score? 272 to nothing.