Tales from The Gaps, As requested by innocent... Options

[Guest_Guest_*]

Welcome.

Whereabouts in Massachusetts?

Somerville.

[johnhanks]

I've been rather busy with the parental duties...

Grandparental duties for me. Sam, 7 weeks.

Best,

J

[Bee]

(IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif)

More chapters, please.

Thanks.

[johnhanks]

XI

"Uhh - Dad?"

There was no reply: God's motionless form remained sprawled across the recliner, head lolling, eyes closed and mouth open.

Jesus tried again, a little louder. "Dad? Dad?" Still no response. He felt an absurd unease. Surely ... surely Dad wasn't ... I mean, everyone knew Nietzsche had been talking out of his -

He panicked. "DAD! Oh, no! No! OH MY GOD!"

God twitched. "Fnrf. Srtr. Zswrd?" He jerked bolt upright, eyes wide. "Let there be litotes. Make thee an ark of gopher droppings. For I the Lord thy God am a banana daiquiri -" God stared around wildly. "Whassup? Wha' happ'nin'?"

"Uhh ... it's me, Dad."

God blinked several times, and finally focused on Jesus. "You ... woke me up?" he said at length. Jesus nodded nervously. "You woke me up?" God repeated incredulously.

"Sorry, Dad," gulped Jesus. "I, uh, I needed to ask you a coupla things. I've nearly finished Judges, but there are some bits I'm kinda hung up on."

God levered the recliner upright. "One lousy book," he grumbled. "I leave him to adapt one lousy book, and can he do it himself, no he has to come and interrupt my nap, my precious nap for cryin' out loud ... OK, what's the problem?"

"Well first off there's chapter 1 verse 19: 'And the LORD was with Judah; and he drave out the inhabitants of the mountain; but could not drive out the inhabitants of the valley, because they had chariots of iron'."

"Judah," muttered God, "Judah, Judah - oh yeah, I remember. So like I said, what's the problem?"

"For Pete's sake Dad, think about it. He's got you with him, but between you, you can't beat these valley people 'cos they've got iron chariots? I mean, what happened to the omnipotence thing?"

"The iron chariots weren't the half of it," said God. "We sent an emissary to the inhabitants of the valley to learn their language, and he came back saying 'These guys are like WAY cool, they asked, like, waddaya think of the chariots, and I'm, like, Hello, you people act like I'm, like, some total dweeb, I mean like, gag me with a spoon or what but it's not like I've never seen iron before, and they're like, Omigawd, you Israelites and your, like, TOTALLY mega-cool humour, let's go hang in the mall, 'kay?' So Judah and the boys voted to give the valley a miss."

"Ri-i-ight," said Jesus cautiously. "OK, I'll find a way of working round that. But I've got more of a problem with Jephthah."

"Uhh - which one was he?"

"The one who burned his daughter for you."

God's brow wrinkled a moment, then cleared. "Oh, yeah, I remember. Nice girl. Tell the truth, I'd 've preferred a good meaty bullock, but you take what you can get. How's this a problem?"

Jesus gritted his teeth. "Dad, we're writing a movie for the modern family audience, remember? Wholesome clean-cut heroes don't barbecue their virgin daughters; and nice, cuddly, caring deities don't just let them."

God shrugged. "What could I do?"

Jesus stared at him incredulously. "What could you do? You could 've stopped him, for Pete's sake. I mean, you stopped Abraham sacrificing what's-his-name, Isaac."

God waved a hand irritably. "That was different."

Jesus folded his arms. "In what way different, exactly?"

God hesitated. "Well ... Gabe and me had a major bet on whether this Jephthah schmuck'd go through with it." He smiled smugly. "Needless to say, I won."

"Dad ... how ..." Jesus struggled for words. "How could you?"

"It was a no-brainer," protested God. "Anyone dumb enough to promise he'll sacrifice 'whatsoever cometh forth of the doors of my house to meet me' and then be totally gobsmacked when it turns out to be his own kid, has got to be dumb enough to go ahead and do it. I mean, who did he expect would run out of his front door to hug him when he got home - King Nebuchadnezzar? Pass me that book. Yeah, here we are, listen to this: 'And it came to pass, when he saw her, that he rent his clothes, and said, Alas, my daughter! thou hast brought me very low, and thou art one of them that trouble me'. That had me 'n' Gabe in stitches: she's gonna get griddled, 'n' the creep's kvetching how much aggravation she's giving him. Oy, the low-lifes I had to work with in those days, you just wouldn't believe."

Jesus sighed. "Yeah, poor you, Dad. But I still don't see how we're gonna dress this one up so you 'n' Jephthah come out of it looking good."

God frowned thoughtfully, then brightened. "We'll play up how it was the dumb bunny's own choice to get fried. Look - 'And she said unto him, My father, if thou hast opened thy mouth unto the LORD, do to me according to that which hath proceeded out of thy mouth'. See? Her decision, me 'n' Jeff off the hook."

"That does not let you off the -" Jesus began hotly.

"In fact," God went on, "We'll make it clear she was a suicidal fruitcake with, oh I dunno, terminal PMT or something. See here, 'And she said unto her father, let me alone two months, that I may go up and down upon the mountains, and bewail my virginity'. That sound like any normal well-balanced chick to you? Running up and down mountains caterwauling about not getting laid? Who'd she think she was, Julie friggin' Andrews?"

"But you -" began Jesus again, but again God steamrollered effortlessly on.

"And finally she runs back down the mountain, dodges Jeff's last desperate running tackle, and throws herself straight in the fire. And it was a custom in Israel, That the daughters of Israel went yearly to lament the daughter of Jephthah the Gileadite four days in a year, on account of her being such a total airhead. End of story."

"But Dad -"

"End of story," God repeated emphatically.

Jesus closed his eyes. What was the use? "Yes Dad," he said dispiritedly.

"So," said God, "You got any other textual problems you need me to solve for you, or do I get to finish my nap?"

"Well ..." said Jesus hesitantly.

"Yes?" sighed God. "Out with it."

"Well, there's the whole Samson thing."

God blinked. "Samson? Samson? But he's one the most popular characters in the whole damn book. What 've you got against Samson, for crying out loud?"

Jesus took a deep breath. "OK, for one thing we're meant to believe he killed a thousand men with the jawbone of an ass. Now, leaving aside the question of whether this was in any way justifiable homicide, just how credible is it? What, they all waited in line while he took 'em out one by one, like some lame martial arts movie?"

God raised a hand in protest. "Hey, hey, two minutes ago you were complaining I didn't do the omnipotence thing with the iron chariots. Now you're complaining my boy's too omnipotent for you?"

Jesus gave him a hard look. "Well even if you were working his strings, and I'm not convinced, couldn't you have used some smarter prop than the jawbone of an ass? I mean it all sounds so, y'know, Conan the Barbarian. People'll never take it seriously."

"That remains to be seen. Any other problems?"

"Yeah. He's stupid. And when I say stupid, I mean brain-dead stupid. Like, Delilah makes three blatant attempts to get him captured and killed, so the fourth time he tells her exactly how she can do it. Congratulations contestant Samson-bar-Manoah, you have posted a new world record for stupid. Look, Dad, audiences don't go for dumb hunks any more. It was OK for Weismuller to have the IQ of a tree, and sure, Schwarzenegger could never aim that high, but nowadays people expect the brawn to come with a brain on top."

"Hmmm. And?"

"And, the guy's an animal abuser. Look here: 'And Samson went and caught three hundred foxes, and took firebrands, and turned tail to tail, and put a firebrand in the midst between two tails..' Can you imagine what PETA will say about that?"

"So ... overall?"

"Overall? Overall, he's a stupid barbarian psycho. OK, that might put him in good company in this particular book, but most of the others we can do something with. Face it, this guy's a write-off."

God sighed. "Y'shua, have you ever heard the word 'satire'?"

"Huh?"

"Or 'irony'? Look, Samson-bar-Manoah was a clerk in the accounts office at the Timnath vineyard. He was about your build - five-three, 130 pounds, short-sighted - and boy, was he boring. A kind of standing joke grew up in the locality, that the little ass had bored a thousand men to death just with his jawbone. You see any pattern emerging here?"

"Er -"

"Anyway, you know how it is with urban myths, someone takes a story and runs with it, and pretty soon everyone's believing it. I mean, Sam started going around with this 260-pound stenographer called Delilah, and she was always nagging him to get his hair cut, and -"

"OK, Dad, I get the picture," said Jesus wearily. He frowned. "But where do the foxes come in?"

God sighed again. "Y'shua, even clerks can snap. One day in the office he got so pissed off with Delilah's nagging and everyone laughing at him, he set fire to three hundred faxes."

"Ohh," said Jesus. "Of course. Sorry" He turned and walked toward the door, then stopped, frowning in puzzlement. "Faxes? Hey, wait a minute, this was -"

But God was fast asleep.

XII

"You cannot be serious," protested Jesus. "It'll make us a laughing stock. Just cut it, why can't you? I mean, you cut the whole Book of Ruth -"

God waved a dismissive arm. "Pure chick-lit," he sneered. "Sam One is a different ball-game. And I say chapter five stays in."

"But -"

"IT STAYS IN."

Jesus slumped in his seat. "OK," he said heavily, "You're the boss. You want to make a Farrelly Brothers comedy, you got it." Teeth clenched, he high-lighted, copied then pasted into the screenplay: 'And they laid the ark of the LORD upon the cart, and the coffer with the mice of gold and the images of their emerods'.

"Happy now?" he said bitterly. "You have the holiest object on earth sharing an ox-cart with five gold mice and -" He swallowed. "Five gold haemorrhoids."

God shrugged, spreading his hands. "Look, is it my fault the Philistines were that dumb? Send piles of gold, I told 'em. When I saw what they'd come up with, I was so wasted laughing my ass off I just let it go. So anyway, what comes next?"

Jesus scrolled down the screen. "Uh, Sam finds Saul, Saul and Jonathan get into a few scrapes, there's the obligatory genocide at Amalek, 'slay both man and woman, infant and suckling, ox and sheep, camel and ass' - Dad, didn't you ever get tired of working with psychopaths?"

God shrugged again. "I worked with whoever'd get the job done. You call 'em psychopaths; I prefer to think of 'em as ... thorough."

"Yeah, well, infant and suckling, you don't get any more thorough than that," muttered Jesus sourly. He brightened. "Hey, but we're coming to the David and Goliath bit. Now there's a story we can really go to town on - clean-cut young hero, a villain the audience'll love booing, the underdog beating the bully. What a movie. We could sign up the kid who plays Harry Potter. Or do you think Elijah Wood?"

"Do I think Elijah would what?" said God, baffled. "He's still two books away. Get a grip, for Pete's sake."

"No, Elijah Woo- - oh, never mind," said Jesus. "OK, let's see how we're gonna present this one. In the red corner we've got Goliath of Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span ... uhh, what's that, six times one-and-a-half plus ... nine feet nine?" He frowned. "You really think people 're gonna believe that? What is this, Hulk?"

God shrugged. "Well, maybe the writers exaggerated a little. Seven feet, tops. Perhaps six-eight. Still a big guy. For a primate putz," he added sotto voce.

"And in the blue corner," continued Jesus, "We've got David son of Jesse, ruddy, and withal of a beautiful countenance, and goodly to look to ..." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Should we play that down a bit? Some of the, uh, real fervent believers - you know, SBC 'n' all - they get a bit twitchy about boys being too, uh, pretty. Specially with the Jonathan thing coming up later."

"Whatever," said God indifferently.

Jesus frowned. "And we're going to have to do something about the fight too. OK, on the surface it's little-good-guy-beats-big-bad-bully, but if people stop to think about it they'll realise it's just accurate-projectile-weapon-beats-sword - i.e., no contest. Like that bit in Raiders of the Lost Ark where Indiana runs into the huge swordsman who flashes his sword about all over the place, then Indiana pulls out a gun and shoots him."

"So? You have some point here?"

"Just that Spielberg was playing that one for laughs. Everyone in the audience fell about. If we want to get the audience on the edge of their seat, you know, scared their guy's really gonna get creamed, we're gonna have to liven up the fight. At the very least we need Dave to dodge a few cuts and thrusts -"

"But that's not the way it was," complained God.

"Oh, and you were there, I suppose -" Jesus began sarcastically, then stopped himself. "Uhh, yeah," he mumbled, "'Course you were, I, uh, keep forgetting." He sighed. "OK, let's hear the Really Authorised Version."

"Well, first off," God began, "The book says there went out a champion out of the camp of the Philistines, named Goliath, of Gath. What it doesn't say is what he was a champion at."

"And that was?" said Jesus, with sudden foreboding.

"Flower arranging."

"Nggkkk."

"I tell you, the guy was a wizard. He could do things with gladioli that'd make you weep. And here at Elah he'd created his chef d'oeuvre, a huge wild spray of freesias and fern fronds subtly offset with begonias, with a few cheeky fuchsias making a sort of satirical in-your-face commentary that subverted yet somehow simultaneously reaffirmed the holistic intention of the composition. I mean, can you wonder the Israelites were demoralised? How were they gonna compete with a virtuoso like that?"

"Nggkkk."

"Anyway, they sent for Jesse the Ephrathite, who'd won the Bethlehemjudah All-comers Floral Aesthetics and Amusing Phallic Vegetable Show six years in a row with his witty poinsettia orchestrations, but the old guy said he was retired and maybe one of his sons could fill the bill. They asked Eliab, then Abinadab, then Shammah, but one look at the pure exuberance of Goliath's freesias locked in their eloquent dialogue with the gentler green of the ferns, and they just folded. Well, can you blame them?"

"Er -"

"Things were looking bad for Israel, I can tell you. Saul was a gibbering wreck, manically stuffing dandelions in jars then having them stoned for looking defeatist; some of his captains were talking openly of surrendering to the sheer abandon of Goliath's fuchsias. But just when all seemed lost, along came David."

"Oh, good," said Jesus heavily. "And no doubt he whipped up a spontaneous masterpiece out of grass and ragweed which reduced Goliath to tears and sent the Philistines packing with their tails between their legs."

God frowned. "No, that's not how I remember it. See, Dave started by pointing to a teensy droop in one of Goliath's fuchsias - 'Uhh, d'you wanna fix that before it gets, like, embarrassing?'. Now, that totally wrong-footed Goliath - he was all set to laugh David out of the contest, not patch up his own work - and while he was trying to prop up the droopy flower, Dave kept it coming: 'And you really think that fern there - no, that one - you think that's green enough?' and 'Yeah, but where's the stylistic integrity in begonias?' and 'Where do you stand on the validity of post-diluvial sepal expressionism?' - and all the while Goliath's getting more and more flustered, and redder and redder in the face, I mean he tries like to come back with statements about the role of the floral artist in post-modern barbarism, but still David's needling him with little barbs about existential reality and the nature of floristic truth, until finally Goliath busts a blood vessel and falls upon his face to the earth."

There was a long silence.

"I ... I see," said Jesus at length. "So David was the first ..."

"... the first Critic," finished God sombrely. "I'm afraid so. 'Course, the writers didn't want to set that down for posterity, so they dressed it up a little - didn't mention Goliath's trademark pinking shears and petal polish, instead made up some guff about his greaves of brass, spear like a weaver’s beam and so on, then had Dave take him out with a slingshot." He sighed. "And the rest is history. Dave gets taken on as Saul's Chief Artistic Advisor, marries the old guy's daughter and when Saul snuffs it he takes over the kingdom."

Jesus frowned. "But it wasn't that simple, was it? I mean, what's all this stuff about Saul wanting to kill him? Trying to pin him to the wall with a javelin, for Pete's sake."

"Oh, it wasn't all sweetness and light," said God, "I s'pose it really went downhill after Saul showed David his watercolours, and Dave said he'd seen more sensitivity to colour, texture and composition the last time his dog vomited. Once a critic, always a critic, I guess. I tell ya, it was only having Jonathan in tow that kept Dave alive."

Jesus shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, like I said, maybe we should play down that side of the story. I mean, a lot of the believers, they're not gonna be too keen on a couple of fit guys babbling on about how much they love each other." He looked up suddenly, his eyes widening in horror. "Oh my Dad, Luke says I'm of the house and lineage of David. Dad, say it ain't so, I'm not descended from -"

"Hey," said God, raising his eyebrows. "Getting a tad homophobic all of a sudden, aren't we? Embarrassed to think you might have AC/DC connections? What happened to the infinite love and compassion shtick?"

Jesus avoided his eye. "We gotta be sensitive to market forces, is all," he muttered.

"Oh, and market forces mean you gotta disown anyone a teensy bit gay?"

"Gay, schmay," spluttered Jesus. "Hell's teeth, you've even got me talking like you now. Look, I don't give a monkey's what David did with his schlong. He could've screwed his camels for all I care."

"Funny you should -"

"But if people found I was related to a critic -"

God raised a hand soothingly. "Y'shua, it's your Uncle Joe who's of the house and lineage of David. And you're no kin of his, now, are you?"

Jesus slumped with relief. "Then there's hope," he muttered.

[Arturo_Vandelay]

Thanks, Bee will be pleased.

[Innocent]

Greetings from Massachusetts!

Edem

8^)

Hey there, Hi there!!!

(IMG:style_emoticons/default/biggrin.gif)

Innocent

Blessed be Gaps forever. Amen.

Amen.

(IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif)

[Innocent]

Still a big guy. For a primate putz," he added sotto voce.

...

And here at Elah he'd created his chef d'oeuvre

sotto voce = to speak under one's breath or to speak confidentially

chef d'oeuvre = masterpiece

(IMG:style_emoticons/default/cool.gif)

[Bee]

"Funny you should -"

(IMG:style_emoticons/default/laugh.gif) (IMG:style_emoticons/default/laugh.gif) (IMG:style_emoticons/default/laugh.gif)

OMG! I mean..... (IMG:style_emoticons/default/blink.gif) (IMG:style_emoticons/default/biggrin.gif)

You gotta get this stuff published. I see it as an illustrated volume. Line drawings, sylized, but simple.

This is really very, very good.

Thanks.

More please. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif)

[johnhanks]

XIII

"OK, Dad, here's the pitch. We open on the darkened royal bedchamber, slowly tracking in on the figure tossing and turning under the covers. As we get closer we see he's a thick-set, balding guy tormented by a whole heap of neuroses that the movie's gonna tease out. We could do a montage of all the faces from his past who're haunting him - all the rival capos he's had to rub out to take over the Family - Abner, Ishbosheth and the rest: then fading up through them all comes Saul, jeering at him and telling him he's a nogoodnik who'll never amount to anything. His wife Carmela is peacefully asleep beside him -"

"Hang on," God interrupted irritably. "David's wife was called Michal."

Jesus flushed. "Did I say Carmela?" he said brightly. "Michal, of course. Michal." He paused. "Uhh, don't you think Michal's a kinda boyish name for a tough guy's wife? I mean, after all the Jonathan business we don't want the audience left in any, you know, doubt about our man's, ah, proclivities. Carmela has a nice feminine ring -"

"Her name was Michal," God insisted. "For Pete's sake, what is it with you? Ever since we got HBO it's been Tony this, Carmela that, Uncle Senior -"

"Junior," corrected Jesus automatically.

"- whatever," snapped God. "The broad's name was Michal, got it?"

Jesus sighed. It was always hard to get Dad to think creatively. Well, since the Big One, anyway. "OK," he said heavily, "His wife Michal is peacefully asleep beside him. You do realise that'll get a belly-laugh from the young male audience? The very demographic that makes or breaks this kind of movie?"

"I should care?" said God. "OK, so you've told us his wife Michal is peacefully asleep. So are half the audience by now - you gonna make something zappy happen, or what?"

"You know as well as I do what happens next," protested Jesus. "Chapter 11 verse 2 - 'And it came to pass in an eveningtide, that David arose from off his bed, and walked upon the roof of the king’s house: and from the roof he saw a woman washing herself; and the woman was very beautiful to look upon.'"

"That's more like it," said God, rubbing his hands. "Never mind all the tossing under the covers crapola, cut straight to the chase."

"But we've got to establish character and background first," Jesus insisted doggedly. "The audience have gotta know this is a guy with a past, and it's catching up with him. We've also gotta get across that he and Carmela -"

"Michal."

"- that he and Michal might sleep together but they don't have, er ... relations any more."

God frowned. "They got plenty relations. There's Michal's brothers, there's -" He snapped his fingers. "Oh, I see. You mean they don't bottle the gherkin these days."

Jesus reddened. "Uhh ... yeah, that's what I mean. We get a good enough director, he can subtly let the audience know there's some past, like, indiscretion that came between them -"

God snickered. "You mean that bit in Chapter 6, when Michal Saul’s daughter looked through a window, and saw king David leaping and dancing before the LORD; and she despised him in her heart, then came out to meet him, and said, How glorious was the king of Israel to day, who uncovered himself to day in the eyes of the handmaids of his servants, as one of the vain fellows shamelessly uncovereth himself?"

"Uhh, yeah," said Jesus uncomfortably. "We'll need to flash back to that at some point, and link it up with David's shrink prescribing nude aerobics therapy or something -"

"David's what?"

"His, uh, shrink," mumbled Jesus nervously. "See, I thought we'd have this sub-plot where David's secretly seeing this lady therapist over his anxiety attacks -"

God gave him a hard look. "You sure you came up with this all by yourself?"

Jesus reddened further. "Of course I did," he said, and quickly went on: "So anyway, Dave gives up on sleeping and puts on his bathrobe and goes upstairs to the roof to watch the dawn, and that's when he first sees Bathsheba, taking a shower on her own roof just across the way.

"Now, this is gonna need really tasteful handling. Nothing full frontal, natch - we're aiming for a 15 certificate here - and we somehow gotta show David standing there panting for this naked chick without the audience thinking he's some kinda sleazy voyeur."

"Perish the thought," said God dryly.

"So throughout the show we make sure we got lots of shots of To - of David with his goomahs -"

"His what?" demanded God incredulously.

"Er ... his goomahs," said Jesus. "All right, concubines, then. Thing is, we need to establish that David has plenty of chicks waiting to drop their pants at a click of his fingers, so if catching a glimpse of a girl in the shower knocks him sideways, it's 'cos there's some special, you know, sexual chemistry there."

"Sexual chemistry," said God, nodding slowly. "You don't think it was just sexual biology, then?"

Jesus gritted his teeth and plunged on. "Anyway, David sends for his consigliere to find out who the girl is, and the guy says, 'Is not this Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite?' So David sends a coupla his gorillas round to fetch her, and next thing we know they're in the sack."

"The gorillas? We're making wildlife porno now?"

"David and Bathsehba, for Pete's sake! And it's not porno. Thing is, audiences these days won't cope with subtle hints, so we need to show the lovers actually, ah, you know -"

"Tastefully, of course," said God sarcastically.

"Of course," said Jesus. "Strictly soft focus. So anyway, a bit later Bathsheba tells David he's knocked her up, right? So David sends for Uriah to come back from the war, and tries his damnedest to get him to visit his wife: 'And David said to Uriah, Go down to thy house, and wash thy feet'." He frowned. "Why's he telling Uriah to wash his feet? Did he have real bad foot odour, or a fungus, or something?"

God snickered. "Euphemism, Y'shua, euphemism. See, Dave figured if he could get Uriah to give Bathsheba a good hard f- ... ah, foot-washing, the dumb Hittite 'd never suspect the kid wasn't his."

Jesus reddened again. "I knew that," he said truculently. "Anyhow - and this is where the movie really takes off - Uriah is too noble for his own good, and makes this real tear-jerker speech: 'The ark, and Israel, and Judah, abide in tents; and my lord Joab, and the servants of my lord, are encamped in the open fields; shall I then go into mine house, to eat and to drink, and to lie with my wife? as thou livest, and as thy soul liveth, I will not do this thing'. I see Russell Crowe, doing his firm-jawed bit like in Gladiator - whaddaya think?"

God shrugged. "Whatever," he said indifferently.

Jesus felt a moment's irritation. He'd had, if Dad only knew, a serious Artistic Crisis over David's motivation here. The guy was king, for Pete's sake. Why didn't he just tell Uriah: 'Look, doodyhole, I've knocked up your wife and she's moving in with me. Feel proud. Oh, 'n' if you got any objections, Joab 'n' the boys 'll be happy to call round 'n' discuss 'em with you, capisce?'. But then he'd thought: What Would Tony Do? He'd discuss it with Dr. Melfi, of course; and she'd guide him to a less confrontational strategy. And when that didn't work, WWTD? He'd have the tight-assed little Hittite putz stiffed, that's what. And whaddaya know, that's exactly what David had done. Jesus felt exhilaratingly ... vindicated.

"So anyway," he went on, "The rest of the script pretty much writes itself: Dave switches to Plan B, gets Uriah set up and killed, this pisses you off so you rub out Dave and Bathsheba's kid in return, we get the weepy bit where D and B are all guilt-stricken and contrite, and at the end, sadder but wiser, they have another kid and call him Solomon, so we're all set up for the sequel. Good, eh?"

God was frowning. "Hang on, hang on - whaddaya mean, it pisses me off? What does?"

Jesus felt a horrible foreboding: they'd been here before. "Uhh ... David ... bumping off Uriah?" he said falteringly. "Look, it says so here, 'the thing that David had done displeased the LORD'. And you sent Nathan to tell him so."

"Ha!" barked God: Jesus's heart sank further. "First off," God continued, "Since when did I care what these primate pricks did to each other? And second, if by some bizarre quirk I did care, you think I'd 've trusted Nutty Nat with the message? Look, hardly a day passed without Nat turning up at the palace saying I was pissed about something or other. The week before, he'd told David I was gonna slay all the first-born and deliver the Nation of Israel into the hands of the Philistines 'cos I was outraged over Dave using his fish knife to cut up his lamb chop. No, it just happened that this time Nat struck a chord, that's all."

"OK," said Jesus cautiously. "But I think it'll play better if we keep to the original storyline. I mean, if it's all the same to you."

God shrugged again. "I told you, I could care less," he said.

"Fine," said Jesus, relieved. "Now all we gotta do is write in the flashbacks, and it's a wrap."

"Flashbacks?"

"You remember? Michal looked through a window, and saw king David leaping and dancing around bare-assed? Uhh ... the place he was in, where she looked through the window - did it have a name?"

God frowned, puzzled. "Not as I recall. Why?"

"Oh, nothing," said Jesus innocently. "If you're not bothered, what say we call it ... oh, I dunno ... how d'you feel about calling it The Bada Bing?"

[Bee]

"Sexual chemistry," said God, nodding slowly. "You don't think it was just sexual biology, then?"

ROFLMAO! (IMG:style_emoticons/default/laugh.gif)

Bada bing!

[Friend Judy]

John, that was hilarious! OK if I pass it out to a few friends?

[johnhanks]

John, that was hilarious! OK if I pass it out to a few friends?

Depends who they are.

[Bee]

(IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif) You are funny, I wish you'd post in the soapbox. Sometime.

[Friend Judy]

Just some friends with an irreverent sense of humor who'd spray coffee all over their screens, too.

[johnhanks]

Just some friends with an irreverent sense of humor who'd spray coffee all over their screens, too.

Sounds like my kind of people. Be my guest.

JH

[johnhanks]

XIV

Jesus paced the carpet nervously. This is ridiculous, he told himself for the hundredth time. I've interviewed Jacob, I've interviewed Joseph, I've put Moses in his place over the Exodus adaptation - I'm Dad's son, for Pete's sake, so why should I be wetting my pants over having to interrogate Solomon?

And for the hundredth time the cold reply came: because he's Solomon, dummy. He went back yet again to the text: 'And God gave Solomon wisdom and understanding exceeding much, and largeness of heart, even as the sand that is on the sea shore. And Solomon’s wisdom excelled the wisdom of all the children of the east country, and all the wisdom of Egypt ...'

Jesus closed his eyes in despair. Aw crap, how am I supposed to give a guy like that the third degree? He'll make mincemeat of me with his long words and fancy quotes, I'm gonna look a total fool - he fumbled once again for his Thesaurus, OK, OK, there must be some smart way of saying 'Good morning' -

There was a hesitant knock at the door. Oh holy sh!t he's here, he's here - he shoved the Thesaurus under the desk, too late too late -

"Enter," he pronounced, with as much gravitas as he could summon. "Ah, Solomon," he continued in the same plummy tone, "A felicitatious antemeridian to you, to be sure. Please, peregrinate within and avail yourself of a commodious seating apparatus."

Solomon stood blinking in the doorway. "Uhh ... did I come to the right room?" he asked cautiously. "Someone wants to talk to me about 1 Kings?"

"Just so, my dear fellow, just so," said Jesus, he hoped loftily. "Come in, pray."

Solomon dropped to his knees and raised his hands. "Oh Lord God of Israel -"

"No," said Jesus, "I meant come in, please."

"Oh," said Solomon, rising clumsily to his feet. "Sorry." He held out his hand and stepped forward. "Solomon-bar-David, pleased to - OH SH!T -" And, the hem of his burnoose being snagged in the clasp of his sandal, he pitched forward and sprawled face down on the floor.

Jesus helped him up and he hobbled to a chair. "So," Solomon said brightly, clutching his bruised shin. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Uhh ... 1 Kings?" said Jesus cautiously.

Solomon's brow wrinkled, then cleared. "Oh yeah." He frowned again. "Funny, the last person who asked to see me wanted to talk about 1 Kings."

"Umm - I think that might still be me," said Jesus.

Solomon nodded, smiling. "Yes," he said.

Clever, thought Jesus. Damned clever. Well, he's not going to throw me off balance.
"Your reputation precedes you, Solomon," he boomed. Well, tried to boom. Squeaked. "Just look here: 'For Solomon was wiser than all men; than Ethan the Ezrahite, and Heman, and Chalcol, and Darda, the sons of Mahol: and his fame was in all nations round about.'

"So, tell me about Ethan the Ezrahite. I mean, he must have been some real wise cookie, no?"

"No," nodded Solomon. He paused, then shook his head. "Yes?"

Jesus narrowed his eyes. Hot damn, this man was smart. He'd have to tread carefully here. "You were saying ... about Ethan the Ezrahite? I mean, can you give me an example of his wisdom?"

Again, Solomon's brow furrowed, then cleared. "Oh, Ethan. Well, I only heard him speak once. It was right at the end of his marathon fourteen-hour address to the Ezrahite Council of Elders, when he said: 'Surely, I say unto you, ye that hearken to my words shall prevail as doth the eagle over the mouse, but ye that do not shall gllghhhhraaarghkhkhkhkh.'"

"Er - I'm sorry? Ye that do not shall...?"

"Gllghhhhraaarghkhkhkhkh," repeated Solomon carefully.

"Uhh - what made him say that?"

Solomon frowned again. "I think it was probably the arrows in his throat. You see, he'd only been allocated ten minutes on the agenda, and finally the Chairman had to rule him out of order."

"I see," said Jesus hurriedly. "But let's move on to your own intellectual achievements. It says here you spake three thousand proverbs. Perhaps you'd like to quote one?"

"Yes," said Solomon decisively. He continued to stare stolidly at Jesus.

"Perhaps you'd like to quote one now," said Jesus eventually.

"Oh," said Solomon, "Right." His brow furrowed again, then he cleared his throat: "'Surely, as the raven doth cleave unto the octopus, shall a man who casts his brother's ephod into the well of Hebron do dishonour unto his mother-in-law's pottage'."

Jesus felt his panic rising again. Wow, that was deep. "Wonderful," he croaked. "Well, Solomon, the reason I've -"

"'Go to the dromedary, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be sure to wash thy hands afterwards'."
"Uhh, wise words indeed, Solomon. Now, -"

"'Shall the roe lie down with the dove, whilst the virtue of the maidens of Judah doth yet reside in the house hewn from seven pillars of cheese?'"

"OK, enough proverbs already!" snapped Jesus.

"But I got lots more," said Solomon reproachfully.

"Uhh, yeah, I'm sure you have, Solomon, and I'm dying to hear them all. One day. First I'll need to, ah, meditate on the ones you've already told me. Meantime, though, I need to check out a few verses of 1 Kings with you, just to make sure we've got the facts straight.

"Now, we got this famous scene in Chapter 3, where two women both claim this baby boy is theirs. 'And the king said, Bring me a sword. And they brought a sword before the king. And the king said, Divide the living child in two, and give half to the one, and half to the other'."

Jesus shook his head in admiration. "Pure genius. I mean, the sheer psychological insight involved there - so tell me, Solomon, how did you hit on that idea? What was going through your mind?"

Solomon looked perplexed. "Through my mind? Well, it had worked the day before when two men came to me arguing over which one owned this nice black goat. It had taken a couple of hacks, and cleaning up the guts and stuff afterwards had been messy, but nobody'd quibbled, so I figured it'd work again. As it was, no-one had to mop up any guts this time 'cos one of the women changed her mind at the last minute."

Jesus felt a growing unease. "But ... she was the one you gave the baby to, right?"

"Of course not," said Solomon, puzzled. "Why, is that what it says in the book?"

Jesus searched desperately for the verse. "It says 'But the other said, Let it be neither mine nor thine, but divide it. Then the king answered and said, Give her the living child, and in no wise slay it: she is the mother thereof'."

"Exactly," said Solomon proudly.

"Uhh ... right," said Jesus at length. "It's just that everyone's always assumed ... oh, never mind. Just remind me again, Shlomo, how did you get to be king? Over Adonijah and the other contenders, I mean."

"My Mom fixed it with my Dad," said Solomon complacently. "And in any case there was my wisdom, like you said. People'd come from miles around to hear me speak."

"Uh-huh," nodded Jesus, still doubtful. "That's what it says here: 'And he spake of trees -'"

"To trees, some days," Solomon put in helpfully.

"- from the cedar tree that is in Lebanon even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall: he spake also of beasts, and of fowl, and of creeping things, and of fishes."

Jesus paused. The doubt was congealing into certainty. "Uhh - creeping things?"

"Oh, yes," said Solomon enthusiastically. "When I was a kid I had the biggest beetle collection in Gihon."

"Right," said Jesus flatly. He should have seen it coming way back in 2 Samuel: 'And he called his name Solomon: and the LORD loved him'. And his vercockte beetle collection. Nice one, Dad. "Tell me, Shlomo," he continued, "Did you ever see a movie called Being There?"

"See a what?" faltered Solomon. "Being where?"

"Never mind," said Jesus briskly. "Now, dipstick, I think we can finish this off pretty smartish. Just a few points re the queen of Sheba, OK? 'And when the queen of Sheba heard of the fame of Solomon concerning the name of the LORD, she came to prove him with hard questions'. Does that, uh, ring any bells?"

"Oh, yes," said Solomon, wincing. "She asked me how long is a piece of string, how many beans make five, and why did the chicken cross the road."

"And what did you answer?" asked Jesus.

"I didn't get the chance," said Solomon. "I ummed and ahhed for a minute or two, then she said 'The hell with this, let's see if the rest of him's built like a donkey too' and dragged me off to her bed-chamber."

Jesus cleared his throat uncomfortably. "'And king Solomon gave unto the queen of Sheba all her desire, whatsoever she asked'?"

"Oh yes," Solomon nodded, smiling happily.

"Just checking," said Jesus resignedly. "Now, at the end you very nearly blew it, right? With Dad, I mean. 'For it came to pass, when Solomon was old, that his wives turned away his heart after other gods: and his heart was not perfect with the LORD his God, as was the heart of David his father. For Solomon went after Ashtoreth the goddess of the Zidonians - ' Shlomo, what were you thinking? Apart from not much, I mean."

Solomon paused for a moment, then looked Jesus in the eye. "What was I thinking? Well ... in your Dad's temple there were a bunch of sour, smelly old men like Zadok and Nathan. And in Ashtoreth's temple there were fifty beautiful and exquisitely perfumed harlots wearing approximately ten square inches of muslin between them. Now, you tell me what I was thinking."

He tapped the side of his nose and winked: "Wisdom of Solomon, sonny boy." He got up and strode to the door. "And a felicitatious antemeridian to you as well, old fruit. To be sure," he said, and roared with laughter. The door slammed behind him and the laughter faded down the passage.

Jesus sat very still for a long time, till the tic in his eye had settled down. He recovered the Thesaurus from under the desk, and began to leaf through it. He could write the Solomon scenes now, no trouble; just as soon as he'd found how many different words there were for 'smartass'.

[Bee]

(IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif) Several, no doubt.

Funny.