The Story Where His Lordship Drops a Jesus Bomb
The Adam and Eve story isn’t what you think
Trigger warnings: A tad insulting to Christians who have no sense of humor. I’m Christian, but not the kind who is easily insulted. And also, if you longed for Kamala to be prez, this might make you sad in the end (originally written in September 2024).
Gabriel: Well, he’s gone and done it again.
Lordship (rearranging a galactic cloud pattern): Oh? Where this time?
Gabriel: Some little planet called Earth.
Lordship (pulling at long white beard): Never heard of it.
Gabriel: Eh, just a little blue rock out on the rim of a minor galaxy. Pretty boring place, if truth be told. Only one moon, one sun. Was a lush little planet until the denizens slathered it with toxins. Nice oceans, but now there’s a big plastic bubble the size of a small continent full of garbage floating around in at least one of them.
Lordship: I hate the ones who do that. How do these kinds of people ever become bipedal?
Gabriel: Well, sir, you did invent science in a way that allows for low-probability events to come to fruition.
Lordship: Hmmph. Indeed. Speaking of low probability events: One moon and one star? That’s rather dull. Do I need to reconsider my solar system creation formulae?
Gabriel: I don’t think so, your Lordship. Such systems continue to be quite rare.
Lordship: Ah, good. I do love big, fat tidal waves the size of mountains, don’t you? Well, anyway, what exactly has he done this time?
Gabriel: He dropped in on a band of barbarians in a desert and called himself Adam, then convinced everyone that killing each other is fun.
Lordship: Each other, you say?
Gabriel: Sometimes for sport. In fact, one of his sons killed the other. Either for sport or out of annoyance, depending on which report you read.
Lordship: Dear me, Adam has progeny?
Gabriel: Not only that sir, but he at one time convinced a majority on the planet that everyone is descended from said progeny.
Lordship: That devil. They have no scientists?
Gabriel: Scientists are not well regarded in some quarters, I’m afraid.
Lordship: Appalling. Do I need to send JC?
Gabriel: That’s my recommendation. I’m afraid there’s more, your Lordship.
Lordship: Of course there is.
Gabriel: He’s blaming it all on the woman.
Lordship (sighs): Adam is blaming the woman, you say? Wait. What woman?
Gabriel: No, not actually Adam, your Lordship. Adam is creating the mayhem. Some other fella named Moses is blaming the woman in the telling of Adam’s story. According to the story Moses tells, Adam has a female companion who was created from Adam’s rib.
Lordship (guffaws): And they believe that tripe?
Gabriel: Apparently, sir.
Lordship: And how is this Moses fella blaming Adam’s mayhem on the woman?
Gabriel: Says she took a bite from an apple.
Lordship (another guffaw, spits out a drink of planet juice): Let me get this straight. That pain in the ass fallen angel has alighted on this little blue planet and is.. oh, please, he’s not peddling that “original sin” story to them, is he?
Gabriel (nodding): They’re quite gullible. And he’s signed up this Moses fella to spread the word. Through a stone with ten commandments on it. Supposedly delivered directly to Moses by you.
Lordship: Ten commandments? Hell, Gabe, I can’t get my dog to sit on command, much less a sentient species to behave itself. And I assume since Adam entered the scene, all hell has broken loose.
Gabriel: Yes, your Lordship. Quite.
Author’s note: I don’t know why these kinds of Godly assistants always have English accents. It’s one of those mysterious mysteries.
Lordship: And this Moses clown has convinced the fine people of this little planet that their descent into violence and despair is because a woman took a bite out of an apple. Is that correct?
Gabriel: Yes, sir. After, she popped out of Adam’s rib.
Lordship: This Moses fella is creative, I’ll give him that.
Gabriel: That’s one way to look at it, sir.
Lordship: So, this woman, she crawls out of Adam’s rib, eats an apple, and this forces all the inhabitants of the planet into mayhem? How exactly does this work?
Gabriel: Well, sir, she eats the only apple you told her not to eat.
Lordship: What does that even have to do with anything? And why the hell would I tell her not to eat an apple? They’re very nutritious.
Gabriel: According to this Moses fella, the apple was on a forbidden tree.
Lordship: Forbidden by me?
Gabriel: Indeed, sir, forbidden by thee.
Lordship: Stop that.
Gabriel: Apparently, a snake made her do it.
Lordship: Now you’re just punking me. Who put you up to this? I bet it was one of the other archangels. Y’all that bored?
Gabriel: Sir, I’m just the humble messenger. The bearer of bad news, if you will. This Moses fella says a snake talked her into eating the forbidden apple, and now everyone is a sinner. And the females are permanently confined to a form of second-class citizenship.
Lordship: What a disaster. Wait. A snake? Do snakes talk in this world?
Gabriel: No, sir.
Lordship: Goodness gracious. Can’t someone just drop down and say I said no such thing about apples? A prophet or something? (Shakes head, mumbles): I love apples.
Gabriel: The people of the little blue planet tend not to listen to prophets who don’t have homicidal tendencies. We’ve been fresh out of those since you banished Beelzebub, err, Adam, your Lordship.
Lordship: And good riddance to them. Well, those people on the little blue planet really do need another sun or two. Or even a moon. Is this their natural state?
Gabriel: Unknown, sir. We believe it is because of Moses.
Lordship: How so?
Gabriel: He’s sort of into this whole “slaughter for God” concept.
Lordship: This Moses guy seems like a real piece of work. He’s still alive?
Gabriel: Well, no sir. But his teachings are still causing a lot of trouble, and have managed to spawn three warring religions in the same region.
Lordship: Couldn’t someone have told me about this earlier?
Gabriel: And, umm… They have nukes.
Lordship: Oh, come on! You mean the people with the warring religions have nukes? Or do you mean all of the people on the little blue planet?
Gabriel (shrugs): Yes. There is an asteroid belt nearby sir. If you’re feeling frisky.
Lordship (laughs): Well, I did just say they could use another moon. Let me ask you this: Since they haven’t destroyed themselves yet, doesn’t that mean that JC has already stopped by? Have you checked the logs recently?
Gabriel: Quantum state, your Lordship. He’s already stopped by, but you still have yet to send him.
Lordship: Ah, of course, that makes perfect sense. When? What time period should I drop him into? I’m open to suggestions, especially because I’m extra busy tonight rolling out several galaxies in the far quadrants.
Gabriel: Well, sir, they’re gonna kill him no matter what era you send him. It’s kind of what they do.
Lordship: They sound like very nasty people. Are we sure we want to save them?
Gabriel: It’s mostly the males that are a problem, sir.
Lordship: I see. Perhaps we should send JC’s sister, then, to calm them down.
Gabriel: I don’t think she’d get one word in before they did something quite horrible to her, your Lordship.
Lordship (nodding): Indeed. I agree. What a wretched place. Okay, then, we’ll send JC. Someone they can identify with. Make sure JC grows a beard for this. He should present himself as peaceful, but manly.
Gabriel: Would be most effective if you had him die hideously, sir. Perhaps with a crown of thorns while nailed to a tree or some such.
Lordship: That’s ghastly! Where do you come up with this stuff? After this discussion, I may need to send you to some deep space therapy.
Gabriel: Gotta speak their language, your Lordship, is all I’m saying. I do understand that’s pretty extreme.
Lordship: It most certainly is. JC just got back from a difficult journey to that planet full of sentient bipedal cats. I really hate the idea of putting him through this so soon after his return.
Gabriel: Yes, sir. There’s been quite the gossip about that excursion. And there were some unfortunate nebulonic memes regarding his cat whiskers.
Lordship: Well, why don’t we just send JC to the little planet’s barbarian era? Since he’s in for a rough ride no matter what.
Gabriel: Well, he is your kid, sir. But I’d be remiss not to remind you that if you send him too early, his teachings will be misinterpreted for centuries.
Lordship: Have they no books?
Gabriel: Very limited in nature during that era, your Lordship.
Lordship: Don’t tell me they’re all written by men.
Gabriel: Well, sir, female scribes tended to meet unpleasant fates in that era.
Lordship (pulling on beard again): A bit of a conundrum. Well, perhaps a more modern era. I’m thinking maybe the age of ice cream sundaes. That’s always a good benchmark for sentient progress.
Gabriel: A good thought, sir, but our cultural scholars suggest that the most we can hope for in that case is brief fame as a reality TV star before he falls out of favor. And sir (leans in to whisper inaudibly into Lordship’s ear)…
Lordship: Oh, my word! Orange, you say?
Gabriel: Yes sir. Possibly satanic. Perhaps even Adam himself.
Lordship: Oh, crap. And he’s really done all those things and nobody seems to care?
Gabriel: I’m afraid so, sir. Our research indicates that this figure emerges no matter when JC makes his appearance.
Lordship: The hell with it. Blast the place. Use an asteroid made of gold. That would be quite fitting.
Gabriel: I’m quite sure you’re joking, sir.
Lordship: Ha! Punked ya’. You deserved it for telling me that absurd story about the snake.
Gabriel: I’m afraid the snake story is true, your Lordship.
Lordship: But you said snakes don’t talk in that world.
Gabriel: I’m sorry, sir. I meant that the Moses fella really did teach everyone that a snake talked the lady into eating a forbidden apple.
Lordship: Hmmph. Can’t be hard to do. Apples are delicious. I mean, I’d be more worried if the snake talked her into disemboweling some poor chap or something.
Gabriel: That’s a fairly frequent occurrence in their religious manual, I’m afraid to say, sir.
Lordship: No way.
Gabriel: Way. But it didn’t really happen, sir.
Lordship: You mean the snake talking her into eating the apple didn’t happen?
Gabriel: Well, sir, she may have or have not eaten an apple. But I can assure you she was not deceived by a snake to do so. But the story about it did cause several thousands of years of outlandish violence.
Lordship: I don’t like this kind of thing happening in my house. Where is this Moses fella now? Is he among us here in the heavenly realm? If he is, I’d like to revoke all his privileges.
Gabriel: I believe he is a myth, sir. A story handed down by barbarians.
Lordship (sighs deeply): These slow rolls into civilization are a real pain in the ass. I should reconsider this process.
Gabriel: Forgive me for reminding you, sir, but the last time you made an overnight science/technology dump, the species in question turned the largest gas giant in their solar system into a planet-eating tardigrade.
Lordship: Ah, so they did. Well, these people sound pretty lost. You sure we shouldn’t hit ’em with the big gold rock and just be done with the matter?
Gabriel: Well, there’s some hope on the horizon.
Lordship: Is that so?
Gabriel: Yes. You know the orange demonic presence I mentioned?
Lordship: Do I ever forget anything? (shakes head, spins a gas giant out of fingertips).
Gabriel: Apologies, your Lordship. Well, there’s a female leader about to deliver a knockout punch to the orange malevolence that has been haunting their world. According to our frontline scouts, she is poised to be chosen leader of their most powerful nation.
Lordship: Nation? They’re still doing nations? My, they are quite primitive still, aren’t they?
Gabriel: I’m afraid so. But there seems to be some form of enlightenment taking place. Some of the local angels on the ground are even reporting a little halo around her head. She also dances and laughs a lot.
Lordship: She’s not the one who ate that forbidden apple, is she?
Gabriel: No sir. That was some time before and was just a goofy story created by that Moses fella.
Lordship: I know that, silly. I was messing with you. Well, who is she?
Gabriel: Kamala is her name, sir.
Lordship: That’s a good name. Sounds familiar. I think I’ve heard of this one. Saves a world somewhere if my prodigious memory serves me correctly. Hold on a minute. She’s not the Kamala with the memes about weirdos plastered all over the Andromeda Galaxy, is she?
Gabriel: No, not Andromeda, sir. It’s the smaller galaxy next to it. The one where Earth resides. And yes, that’s her.
Lordship: Good enough for me. Sounds like the females on that planet have been getting a raw deal for some time.
Gabriel: Yes, sir, they have.
Lordship: And she can fix this?
Gabriel: That is the hope, sir.
Lordship: Well, then. What are you waiting for? Send JC down to that forsaken place and let’s get this show on the road.
Gabriel: It’s done, your Lordship.
Lordship: Of course. Quantum physics. Honestly? It’s my favorite invention. And how’s JC after his little visit there?
Gabriel: A little shaken up sir, but he’ll be fine.
Lordship: Good to hear. And how can we be sure she’ll be chosen as their leader now after all this nonsense?
Gabriel: Prayer, sir. A whole lotta prayer.
Notes
This story was first published in CounterArts on Sep 09, 2024
I considered updating this to reflect our new reality, but decided, nah. Let the record reflect human stupidity.
There is a prequel to this short story, which was a result of a writing prompt, here on Ruminato:
Brilliant!
Love it