That Time God Sent a Galaxy-Sized Fireball to Earth
Fiction: His Lordship discovers some unpleasant truths behind a little planet's inhabitants.
I’ve spent the last couple of days moving, so, luckily for me, I’ve missed most of the news. Instead of sorting through it all and then researching so I can blather on about one of the awful things you probably saw in your news feed, I wrote something that requires no real research. I’ve also been working on a longish AI article, but that’s not ready.
Trigger warnings: This story is probably going to be insulting to Christians who have no sense of humor. Also, it contains extreme blasphemy. Off with my head! Do note, though, that I’m Christian, too, so I’m not a hater. But I’m not the kind who is easily insulted. Whenever my god yells at me for writing stuff like this, I remind him that he’s the one who invented poop, not me.
In the prequel to this story, His Lordship sent his son to a tiny planet on the outer rim of the galaxy after hearing wild stories about a guy named Moses and other violent folk. His first instinct after hearing the stories was to launch an asteroid at the planet, but he chilled and sent his brilliant, patient, and compassionate son, JC, instead. That story was covered here:
What follows is Gabriel’s report of JC’s return from the cold depths of the far-off planet. It helps to read the first one, but not necessary. You might giggle if you read it afterward, though.
Gabriel: Well, he’s back.
Lordship (pulling at long white beard): JC?
Gabriel: Yes, your eminence.
Lordship: And?
Gabriel: You’re gonna want to sit down for this.
Lordship (sighing and shaking his head): Sit down, he says. Have you ever tried inventing a new kind of waterfall while you’re sitting down?
Gabriel: No, your Lordship, I can assure you I have not. You can make waterfalls behave differently than they do now?
Lordship (rolling his eyes)
Gabriel: Silly me. What a question.
Lordship: Understandable. They all currently behave the same. As in, they fall.
Gabriel: Indeed. And what will these new ones do, your Lordship?
Lordship: Honestly, I don’t know yet. I got a little bored after seeing the 35,000-foot waterfall on the waterfall planet.
Gabriel: The planet with all the waterfalls?
Lordship (sitting down on a gas giant): That’s the one. I’m tinkering a bit, but it has to work within the realm of science, or all the sentient beings in the universe will have a collective aneurysm.
The good news is, you’ve come at a good time. I’ll take a break. Let me hear your report.
Gabriel: Should I just start with the bad news?
Lordship: Don’t you always?
Gabriel: Indeed, sir. Well, they killed him.
Lordship: They killed JC?
Gabriel: That they did, sir.
Lordship: Good Lord. I told you I should have hurled an asteroid at the little shits.
Gabriel: It gets worse.
Lordship: Is this where you tell me the deviants found a way to prevent his resurrection?
Gabriel: No, sir, but they blamed you.
Lordship: They blamed me for killing him?
Gabriel: They nailed him to a tree and said it was your idea.
Lordship (spinning a quasar on his index finger): What the fuck, Gabriel?
Gabriel: Said you sent him to them to be sacrificed.
Lordship: Holy goat balls! What are they, Republicans? And JC went along with this? I told him he could smite them at any time.
Gabriel: Seems he rather loves the silly people.
Lordship: Well, damn. Perhaps I should send him to the psych infirmary on GN-z11.
Gabriel: In the galaxy that looks like a howling dog mooning us, sir?
Lordship: That would be the one. What in the name of babbling tardigrades does he see in these people?
Gabriel: Turns out some of them are very nice. Mostly the women, sir.
Lordship: Should I roll out a mutation that kills off all the men but allows the women to procreate without them?
Gabriel: I think that would upset JC.
Lordship: Why? They… wait. They really nailed him to a tree? That’s barbaric.
Gabriel: Not just a tree, your grace. They cut it into the form of a cross so they could stretch his arms on it and…
Lordship: Enough. I’m about to vomit my ionic soup. These people disgust me. Send in the xenomorphs.
Gabriel: Apologies, your lordship. They’re a little busy warring with another predator race.
Lordship (shaking head): Free will kind of sucks, doesn’t it, Gabriel?
Gabriel: It has its downsides, your grace.
Lordship: My favorite beings really are the Tardigrades. They can live anywhere, and they don’t bother anyone. And they’re adorable.
Gabriel: One of your better efforts, I must say.
Lordship: Oh, hell, Gabe, all I did was shake the bottle and cross my fingers. Like I usually do.
Gabriel: Indeed, sir. But it was a very good shake.
Lordship: I’m guessing a few billion of the gas giants were in retrograde that day. Now, onto JC. You say he liked these people. I find this concerning. Should I stop sending him on these missions?
Gabriel: Remarkably, sir, he seems no worse for wear.
Lordship: He’s a hardy soul, I’ll give him that. But you haven’t answered my question. What does he see in these people?
Gabriel: His formal report states (examines long parchment): The vast majority of these people are decent, loving folk who love and create amazing music, art, and letters. They strive to care for their families. They are a people of grand humor and, sometimes, an almost supernatural desire to help one another when disaster strikes.
They have not yet reached full maturity, so they have not developed a satisfactory method of justice or for enforcing grace. They have a surprising tolerance for appalling levels of harm caused by a small percentage among them.
Lordship: No wonder JC likes them. A billion cheeks turned all at once.
Lordship: Quite. JC continues: Imagine a crowd of a billion of these people on the sands of Tatooine, and then one reprehensible sociopath appears and creates a footprint larger than the rest of them combined.
Lordship: Tatooine? What the hell is Tatooine?
Gabriel: Apologies, your Lordship. The ethereal version of JC hung around quite a while after his demise and watched a lot of movies.
Lordship: I see. Go on.
Gabriel: Apparently, when one of their leaders killed millions of people in ovens…
Lordship: That’s it. Just stop. Xenomorphs are too good for these people.
Gabriel: If I may, sir…
Lordship (heaving sigh): Very well, go on.
Gabriel: If I may, sir… after he killed several million people, they attempted a world government of sorts, to create a system of international law.
Lordship: That usually works, but I know you’re about to tell me that these morons found a way to screw it up.
Gabriel: Well, no, sir, not exactly. There is one individual who is trying to reverse the progress. He was somehow elected as the leader of the planet’s most powerful nation. He also (whispers into Lordship’s ear).
Lordship: Kids? I’ll kill him myself. Why haven’t these people used that cross invention on him? I’m appalled, quite frankly.
Gabriel: He’s also currently trying to destroy this notion of international law that they have been spending much time on. Time, of course, being relative, and all that.
Lordship: I hate nationhood. It’s stupid. How did such a beast manage to win an election?
Gabriel: If I may, your Lordship, I’ll reply with JC’s report. (reads from parchment): Think of this massive footprint as a symbol. The people who are good, who are decent, who are moral, have problems on this planet establishing their dominance. They allow themselves to be squashed by predators.
Lordship: A common problem.
Gabriel: Yes, sir.
Lordship: And how was this man who killed all those millions dealt with, if they hadn’t yet mastered the Light?
Gabriel: They won a war, your Lordship.
Lordship: Of course they did. Please don’t tell me they won the war in my name.
Gabriel: War has been invoked in your name throughout their history, your grace.
Lordship (dripping with sarcasm): Fantastic. But at least the good people you speak of, they found a way to end the war against the bad guys with honor, right?
Gabriel: Well…
Lordship: This is going to piss me off, isn’t it?
Gabriel: They nuked two cities on the islands of a nation that was an ally with the genocidal dude.
Lordship (spinning a galaxy-sized fireball with one hand): What????? I think they need this thing sent their way. (looks at galaxy-sized fireball)
Gabriel (Continues reading): I sense now, JC writes, a change. The good and decent people of this tiny planet are taking charge. They’re changing the narrative. They are discovering that they can emasculate the power of a toxic leader by simply pointing out his flaws and allowing him to broadcast his toxic behavior to the point where all but the most wicked say, “That is all. You are henceforth a pariah among us.” And by making fun of him. These people are, in other words, treating the pariah and his kind as one large satirical event.
Lordship: Satire’s a beautiful thing. I think the people who practice it should be rewarded with the wealth of many nations. But I digress. What of those who continue to bend to his whims? Are they also still in power in this powerful nation you speak of?
Gabriel: I’m afraid so, sir.
Lordship: Fine. I’ll just send JC back there to finish his work. It sounds like he’s done a fine job, after all.
Gabriel looks down.
Lordship: Now what?
Gabriel: I’m afraid they’ve created a myth that states that when JC returns, a great slaughter involving most of the earth’s people will transpire. Almost everyone in the religion that JC spawned believes it. That’s billions of people, your grace.
Lordship: Oh, for fuck’s sake. (Launches the galaxy-sized fireball).
Notes
Oh, my, I’m gonna lose some subscribers with this one, aren’t I?
Thanks for reading!
I restacked this and wrote:
“If you want a laugh so hard, your stomach will hurt entertainment, and you want relief from the craziness, have a read.”
By Charles Bastille
Check out his substack Ruminato.
This has to be one of your best yet. And I love the “Lordship: Oh, for fuck’s sake. (Launches the galaxy-sized fireball)."
Loved it. 😅
Your satire is a beautiful thing!