• The Dawn of Man


    On the very first day, He crafted the Earth. A disgusting ball of soil and mud and clay – a canvas for his work, divine as it might have been, but how revolting our planet must have looked on that very first day. So sickening and loathsome that He retired to his bed for the night, too upturned & filled with contempt to get anything more accomplished.

    The following morning, He started his chore a little earlier, tossed back a bit of the black stuff, and got His grits right in there. He must’ve despised looking at that astral ball of s**t, because the next thing he did was slap an ocean over his revolting creation, encore with a generous stippling of land, just to obscure its shameful core. On the first day, that would’ve been enough to merit a bit more shut-eye, but today He was feeling a bit inspired. He got His a** right into making this quaint little garden, an adorable little terrarium for his science project. Tomorrow he would add his lab rats.

    On the third day, He put on his masochist pants and his sadist boots, and went to work with a sheepish grin. Smirking and laughing in a manner oft seen in the a*****e kid with a magnifying lens, on his knees burning so-called lesser beings, He gave birth to his children in a fashion most commonly equated to the 16-year-old mother, evident in brevity and yet assumedly innocent. Adam, He called him, a gangly mess of a creature. Truly volatile, a beast with spindly, sickening form – a true monster made solely to complain and destroy. “Learning”, He justified that hungering lumberer’s ravenous destruction as playground fiddling, as if there was anything childlike about it. Adam demanded everything – a home, a job, and another beast just like him, something to critique and compare, pure narcissism. With unwavering curiosity, He senselessly obliged, building his whiny pet an ashy, fragile toy – another gangly bloat made right from Adam’s bones, fresh squeezed, made to order. Of course, being the total devastator of his own fortune, Adam had killed the unsuspecting lamb by the end of the day. With an unknowing sigh, He had gone to bed with a sentient project in the works, an experiment that was now changing without His nurture, and I do wonder if he knew what He had set into motion.

    He must’ve thought all night about what tomorrow’s “augmentation” would be, because He had so much obnoxious aplomb about it that I found myself ill.
    “LET THERE BE LIGHT ” He declared, clenched fist, just booming and raging in vigor, so god damn excited and proud of His brilliant step in the right direction. In rolled the Sun, an enormous mass of burning garbage, so dependent on our attention that it would have to rotate around the Earth like a crying toddler at the heels of an oblivious parent. It was the absolute defining accoutrement to His glorious, crying subsystem, and such a natural denouement to his work that he could find no more dominoes to set in place. And thus, with the ultimate act of benevolence and malevolence, He took a step back from a few days work, and took a moment to consider His creation. It wasn’t perfect by any means, and it certainly wasn’t inspirational – altogether, a very average experiment.