burned down his compound then made it look like an accident. Bastards.”
“But surely he was a martyr?” asked Shango, that's a big deal, “they used to love all that stuff.”
“Barely anyone even registered it. The news reports just said he was a nutter. A cult leader, they called him.”
God looked off into space for an age, and the group was about to move on to the next member when he continued.
“The boy, my boy, he hasn't spoken to me since. Says he's got his own life to live and that he's met this nice prehistoric planet who he thinks he's got a future with. Says he wants to learn from his Daddy's mistakes and treat her nice.”
“Seems like a nice sentiment,” said Momma E.
“Seriously, maybe She's not right for you,” said Thor, “maybe you should both see other, er, people.”
"You would say that, wouldn't you? You never got over her anyway," God stared with building rage at Thor, but then seemed to simmer down when he noticed Thor bristle and flex his muscles.
"Jesus, God, are you still on about that?" Thor shook his head, “I’ve moved on already.”
Then Momma E interjected, "really God, oh seriously do I really have to keep calling you that, look, God, She was a very friendly girl in her formative millennia. She had a number of acquaintances, but She trusted you implicitly. Then you had to fill her head with all that nonsense. Everlasting life eternal. Like you could do that anyway. Like any of us could."
God muttered something the group couldn't hear.
"You need to stay in the comfort zone man," said a handsome green skinned young man in speedos and a Hawaiian shirt. "Don't promise what you can't deliver; what we do, with these planets, it's all smoke and mirrors, and eventually, if we're not straight with them, they work it out. A woman will take the odd slap or two, because she loves you, and some, like your girl, will put up with it longer still, but they all get there in the end and if you don't at least consider treating her nice, then Thor there will be the least of your worries."
"She loves me, though, She loves me."
"Anyway," Momma E spoke up now, "I'd like to thank Joe, I mean God, for being so very open with us here in the group today, and would like you to give him a big round of applause, I think he's made real progress tonight."
The circle clapped warmly and the surfer dude patted him on the shoulder and they moved onto some of the others. The surfer dude talked about trust issues, and Buddha complained his new squeeze kept trying to get him on a diet, as if being vegetarian wasn't bad enough.
Thor stared at God throughout the rest of the meeting, silent as a tower block, as the rest of the gods shared their own woes, and Bog wondered what he was thinking about. From the expression on his face it he thought it might not end well for this man who called himself God.
The group finished and drifted about the room, readying to leave, and when God popped into the toilet leading off the room, Bog heard Thor whisper to Buddha about how he reckoned She still burnt a candle for him.
“They even made a film about me recently. The guy in it was a bit ugly, compared to me, but still, it shows She hasn't forgotten.”
“What do you reckon about his boy?” Buddha asked, “seems a decent sort of a chap to me.”
Thor looked at Buddha like he was thinking little Jesus might be just as bad as his Daddy.
“Chip off the old block,” he said, “might come across all 'peace and love', but there’s something in his, manner, which tells me it’s only a matter of time before he follows in Daddy's footsteps.”
“You’re too hard, he’s a lovely guy.”
“Trust me, all that ‘me and only me’ shit’s unhealthy, there’s something about him, you’ll see-”
Buddha hushed him as God returned, then Mother Earth spoke the closing address to the group.
“I am really grateful you agreed to convene here today, I do like Earth, although we must pick somewhere different next time. Thanks for the venue God-”
“Thanks God,” the group chorused in agreement.
“One thing though, God,” called a scratchy, animalistic voice, a voice from underground, and Bog was surprised the see the indistinct grey figure, the one he still couldn’t make out, had spoken for the first time.
God looked surprised, “yeah?”
“The boy, up on the roof listening,” it said, and Bogs stomach threatened to empty at mention of him, but held his nerve, “well, since it is your planet you need to decide what happens to him. Is he allowed to tell what he saw? If this world is as sceptical as you claim, then it's not too much of an issue, I suppose, but it is your decision.”
Bog leapt back from the window, but knew in his heart the game was up so he crept back to peer over the rim onto the gathering. He saw a look of grim satisfaction on God's face which made him long to be small again, away from all of this, wrapped in his mother’s embrace one last time.
“It's already in hand,” he said, “he’s going to fall from the roof when he tries to get down. The fall will break his neck.”
Buddha spoke first, “now really, God, is that entirely necessary?”
“Not really,” he shrugged and would entertain no further discussion of the matter.
***
Bog stood in the edge of the roof and watched the ‘gods’ disperse in the street below, disappearing into the coming shadows of night without a glance back up at his hiding place, transporting themselves by various means, all seemingly unworthy of the of their deified status.
Thor was on a skateboard for pities sake. Although, Bog thought he could probably have used it as a surfboard, such was the size of the thing. It raged and clattered along the uneven East London street as he disappeared into the distance.
God himself, appeared to be reattaching some kind of corporate name badge to his shirt and Momma E seemed to be trying to force him into a hug, but he writhed and resisted.
Bog wondered about God's prophecy.
“What a load of rubbish,” he told the coming night. He had climbed down from his kingdom numerous times without even a scratch so he knew he shouldn't worry too much about what God had said. He’d be fine.
He gave the heavy plastic piping which he used to descend a sharp tug and it felt solid enough. He grabbed his Dad’s dirty mag; he'd truly be murdered if that didn't go back to its hiding place, gripped the edge then lifted himself over the edge.
Hanging in space.
Epilogue.
Pawla knelt ahead of the altar and looked up at the cross, the smelt of burning candles sharp and chemical in her nostrils.
She'd been here almost every day now since the fall, weeping for her boy, dear beautiful Bogumil, her baby, her little one, the one she had so wanted so much to be a baby girl.
He'd been thirteen last birthday.
He'd be thirteen forever now. No wife of his own. No babies of his own.
She looked up at the altar, face drenched with tears and she cried out in pain, filled with the deepest misery, “why God, why did you take my boy from me.”
She cried out to God, she screamed at his son, pinned and wretched on the cross. She asked him why, why, why, but nobody answered.
Thanks
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Acknowledgements
Thanks to José Sáez for use of the cover image under a CC license.
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