More Writing Fun From Rando

[The Amazing Rando 0]

If any of you have ever read Scott Keith's "How I Spent My Armageddon" ...this is in the same vein... it's only the beginning of what I hope will be a full fledged arc of a story...but knowing me...it'll probably never get there...

 

-----------THE NEW GOD CHRONICLES: UPDATED--------------------

 

 

Walt Disney was not having fun. Being dead for the past forty years and not seeing one sign of heaven, hell, or otherwise was the least of his problems at this point. Never mind that he had walked the Earth as a disembodied soul and even found himself wasting time in his own parks “Haunted Mansion” trying to scare guests by impersonating Mickey through the guise of a knight in shining armor. Never mind that his wife remarried and left him behind or that he had not even seen his brother since his death…as he sat outside of the revamped Disney Studios, he listened intently to ideas of building a theme park in Alaska.

 

“What morons” he knew his voice could not be heard, but he was never one to hold in his thoughts on subjects that were near and dear to him…especially this silly idea. He remembered a few years back, when Michael Eisner suggested placing a park in Maine. Maine? Maine! He could not believe that. He remembered trying to punch the wall, but the ghostly nature of his body put his hand ethereally through the wall, leaving not even the fly that was in the way flinching.

 

“Come on, everyone…we could build Space Mountain out of rock salt!” this voice from inside the room caused Walt’s face to almost blur in anger as he walked through the wall and into the conference room. He hoped he could knock out whomever made the suggestion, but as he regained his bearings (through-wall travel is rough…no matter what Patrick Swayze says), he noticed that the room was empty. Walt looked around confused. It seemed nobody had been there in days. Walt scratched his head in disbelief and made sure he was not hallucinating.

 

“What the he-“ …and then Walt disappeared.

 

 

“-ll” …Walt reappeared in a simple white room, a puff of smoke rising around him as if to be the victim of a magic trick. After shaking off the sensation of teleportation, he saw that he was in what could best be described as a receptionist’s office. The name on the desk read “Mary” and the beautiful girl behind the desk seemed to be quite the busy secretary. Behind her was what seemed to be a hard oak door, but the name that should have adorned it looked to be missing, as nothing but an empty placard could be seen.

 

“Have a seat, sir…I’ll be with you shortly” Mary brushed her hair out of her face and motioned for Walt to take a seat, which he did, looking rubbernecked at the simple white room. He began to watch Mary intently as she answered the phone at a blistering pace.

 

“Thank you for calling Heaven…oh…you’re drowning…I’ll connect you…

 

…Heaven…suicide…I’ll connect you…

 

…The Great Beyond…monkeys are clawing your face…just a moment…”

 

Her motions were quick and deliberate, pressing buttons to perfection. As Walt watched, he guessed that she answered close to a hundred calls before making one last comment…

 

“…Heaven…Avalanche? Please hold…” she chuckled to herself and looked up from the phone.

 

“Mr. Disney, sir…we are extremely sorry for keeping you waiting for so long. Please go through the door behind me…and have a heavenly day…” Mary pointed toward the door as she reached for the phone and began talking once more. Walt looked confused at the door for a moment.

 

“Uhmm…Thank you, Miss…” he said as he walked past her desk and opened the door. Beyond the open door was nothing but another ethereal mist. He paused and looked back at the receptionist.

 

“Go ahead…” was all she could say between calls. Walt looked back and forth a few more times before taking a deep breathe (not that breathing mattered) and stepped into the mist. Little did he know that as the door closed, his name appeared inside the placard.

 

 

“So you are going to be God?” Walt asked himself as he lifted up the tiny pamphlet that was sitting alone in the middle of a small cheap card table. It was the only thing in the ‘room’ he had just appeared inside. Walt flipped through the pages and read it out loud.

 

“Congratulations…” he started, “you have been chosen to be God. Unlike what is taught on Earth, the position of God is passed down from acceptable person to acceptable person every fifty years or so. After looking over your credentials your successor has picked you!” Walt stopped reading and looked up, laughing.

 

“This has to be some kind of joke…” He shook his head in disbelief.

 

“I assure you it is not, Mr. Disney” a voice came out of the mist around him. From Walt’s left came Mahatma Gandhi, the little man almost waltzing toward him and dressed in a perfectly white suit. Gandhi moved up beside the dazed cartoonist and looked toward the pamphlet.

 

“Every thing is very true…I did not believe it either, but then Mr. Lincoln popped in and almost made me fill my trousers with waste. He told me to read this and believe every word, and then he disappeared.” Gandhi smiled up at Walt, who was still in shock at the sudden revelation from the bald peacekeeper in front of him.

 

“You mean to tell me that you were God?” Walt asked.

 

“Abso-positive-a-lutely, and Lincoln before me. Every God gets to pick their successor, and you… well, let me just say those cartoons were quite funny. Ah, a talking dog that knows how to ski…so wonderful.” Gandhi reached up and patted Disney’s back, “Any questions?”

 

“Well… I have one…what is going on?!”

 

“You are the new God, silly man… read the pamphlet and everything you wish for will come to you. Why do you think this room looks so bland? You make it whatever you wish. It does not even have to be an office! Oh…and watch out for Satan, he’s a tricky one…but I’m sure you two will get along fine! He’s an entertainer, too!”

 

“If you say so…” Walt tried to get the last word, but Gandhi disappeared in a puff of smoke before he could get the words out of his mouth.

 

 

Walt spent the next ten minutes flipping through the pamphlet, his eyes getting wider and wider as he read each passing line. The points that caused the oddest looks concerned his duties (which are basically figurehead type roles) and about Satan.

The position of Satan worked much in the same way as God. Every fifty or so years a new Satan was appointed to watch over Hell and the damned, which basically meant he or she spent all their time in Lancaster, Pennsylvania (The Amish would never notice if Satan was living that close). The current Satan was stated to be Elvis Presley, who had gotten the position in 1980 after Richie Valens resigned, giving up his place as Lord of the Underworld after he could not handle the pressure of Vietnam.

 

“This is crazy…” was his final response as he tossed the pamphlet away. Walt looked around for a minute or two and then decided it was time to see what exactly his “powers” were. Walt thought about his old office in Burbank, and suddenly in front of him it appeared. The small table he was resting his arms on became a polished wood masterpiece, and every thing seemed in place, even his one of a kind Hallmark crown. Walt walked around the room for a moment and looked in every crevasse to try and find a misplaced book or a pencil out of place, but everything was as he remembered it.

 

“Amazing…” he thought as he thought about drinking a nice cup of coffee, and suddenly on his desk appeared a large cup. He smiled, and looked at the coffee closely, and poof – instant drink coaster. Walt smiled and drank his coffee.

 

 

 

“Sir…sir…SIR!” a loud voice caused Walt to jump up in his seat. In front of him stood a small stout man with pristine white hair and a silver suit. A small sticker on the lapel stated “Hello My Name Is: Saint Peter”.

 

“Sir…it’s time for your first meeting with Satan. He is waiting in his lair.” St. Peter looked at Walt, his hair slightly disheveled from the sleep he was catching before being awoken.

 

“Uhmm…that’s fine, I think…how do I get there?”

 

“Sir…first of all…you are not dressed appropriately…and two…like this…” Peter pulled out a small penknife and flicked it open. With a smile he stabbed the air with it…and a small tear appeared. Peter put the knife away and pulled the tear down before stepping through it. Around five seconds later, another tear appeared on the other side of the room, and Peter walked through it. The tear closed up behind him.

 

“Where do I get that little knife?” Walt asked.

 

“Oh…you don’t even need that. If you want to be in Satan’s lair bad enough…you’ll go. You are God.” Peter said and looked Walt up and down again, “and change your clothes before you get there” he finished and walked out the office door, disappearing through the mist on the other side.

 

Walt looked down at himself, and asked out loud for some worthy clothes. Slowly his clothing began to morph on his body, changing into a suit similar to what he had seen Peter in. Walt breathed in and out slowly (due to habit), and disappeared from his office.

 

 

“Welcome…To…PENNSYLVANIA” came the voice of Elvis Presley rustling through the barn where Walt now stood, but currently a small aura of white light had encased him, and he seemed happier than normal.

Walt looked over at Elvis, who was wearing what he would soon discover to be his new trademark outfit. A custom designed full-body suit dyed red with black flames and orange sequins of an eagle that very well could have also been on fire, but Walt could not get a good look at his back as Elvis was staring back at Walt from the corner of the barn.

 

“Wow…it really is you” both men responded together.

 

“Let’s get this here meetin’ under way,” Elvis started, “as you have surely been told, either by Petey or that handy pamphlet. That silly, silly pamphlet…you don’t understand…I had to read a gosh darned novel to understand satanic lore and all the crazy powers I had…and it was hard to accept with my religious upbringings... Did ya’ll know I can make Britney Spears the greatest musical act since…well…ME?!?” Walt’s mouth dropped open and he tried to speak, stuttering through the first few words as Elvis took a seat at a small but marvelous looking desk that stuck out like a sore thumb in the barn that he was currently sitting in.

 

“So you…Elvis…have been responsible for all the wars over the past 30 or so years?”

 

“Nah…that’s handled by them there Department of the Horsemen, Fourth Division. I just find it sort of amusing.” Elvis lit a cigar and put his feet up on the table, and Walt looked around nervously.

 

“The Four Horsemen? What are they like?”

 

“Well lemme just say that if there were three more of them they could hang out with that Snow White gal.” This comment got a chuckle out of Walt.

 

“Oh really?”

 

“Yeah…War is a pretty grumpy fella, Pestilence is kind of bashful, ya know, Famine is dopey and could use some smartening up and a few burgers too, and Death is actually surprisingly happy…it’s creepy to be honest. The four of them together are evil though…worse than I could ever be, but luckily they stay separated due to some law Ghandi passed down, after he peacefully protested in front of their house in Purgatory for about three years.”

 

“Purgatory?” Walt looked across the table, “where is that exactly?”

 

“San Antonio, Texas…sorta. At least…that is where the door to the place ended up. It used to be impossible for anyone to get to Purgatory without an invitation, but then some fools built two Starbucks shops across the street from one another. And well one night I was down there scaring the people and making them think they ‘spotted me’ and I just dropped right down into Purgatory. It’s surprisingly nice…like a resort for crazy people who think they just might have either seen me…or think they are me.” Elvis laughed to himself.

 

“Sorry if I seem so…out of it right now…this is all incredibly shocking to me” Walt stood and walked toward the window, looking out and watching a few Amish across the fields.

 

“It’s okay…I was kind of shocked too at first, when I was just minding my own afterlife business, when all of the sudden Richie Valens runs up to me like his pants are on fire… …come to think of it…they were on fire. But that’s beside the point really, he just runs up to me, tosses this huge book at my feet and tells me I can take over…and runs off and I never saw him again. It seemed Happy and Grumpy had decided to take out Vietnam due to some bad choices in a friendly game of Risk…and long story short it lead to the whole Ghandi protest thing, and now all four of them are stuck all over the universe. I’m not too sure where they all are, but I am pretty certain that War lives in France.”

 

Walt watched intently as Elvis told the story, and as he finished Walt moved behind Satan and walked toward the back of the barn shaking his head.

 

“I’m just not sure I’m ready for this…what do I even do first?”

 

“You are going to have to talk to Petey ‘bout that…or Gabe. He’s a pretty smart fella.”

 

“Where is he?”

 

“Oh…last I heard he was working at the Holy Land Experience as a parking lot attendant or something. I know it sounds odd…but Gabe is quirky like that. A big jokester…but a genius, too.” Elvis stood and walked behind Walt…

 

“I’ll let ya’ll go if you need to speak with him. I was new once, I know what it’s like.” Walt barely heard the last sentence as he disappeared from in front of Elvis, setting his sights on the Holy Land Experience.

 

 

Orlando, Florida…hidden in the shadow of Disney’s second major theme park and Universal’s two giants sat The Holy Land Experience. Walt Disney appeared in front of the building only seconds after leaving the barn, and immediately he spotted a shiny parking lot attendant.

 

“Gabriel! Gabriel! Gabriel?” Walt screamed and briefly paused to question his actions when the man he was trying to address spun around and faced him, and his face brightened almost as much as the light that surrounded him.

 

“Walt…Disney? You are the new God? Wow…I had heard rumors but this is amazing. Sorry I’m not working at Disney but this is more my speed.” Gabriel stated as he turned back and pointed a car to a parking space.

 

“Don’t worry…they don’t see the shiny stuff…just a poor teenager with a horrible job. It’s great…no matter how bad this park is…” Walt looked confused. “So much is wrong it’s insane. I’ve tried to smite them but apparently they have some kind of weird insurance that protects against acts of God… and that must include his followers too. But oh well…I’m happy.” He turned back to another car. Walt just looked him up and down.

 

“I came here to ask you what my duties are…I have some right?”

 

“Well yeah, in a way…but there are so many people up there now that most of your duties are left to others. I’m sure you met Ghandi before he left right? Well before the whole Horesmen thing he did not do much at all. He traveled the world, visited Purgatory, and tried to do something with Hell…but could not think of anything to do with the place…”

 

“What’s so bad about Hell?” Walt asked, but caught his tongue and chuckled at the absurdity of the question.

 

“Well you wonder why Satan doesn’t live there? It’s nothing but a big arena now! It seems a few backyard wrestling morons died and decided that they would take advantage of the whole ‘can not get hurt’ thing, and have been wrestling for past ten years. They never stop, and sadly…others actually watch.”

 

“Wow…” is all Walt could really say to that.

 

“Yeah, Satan moved to Pennsylvania to get away from all the violence. He could not take it at all. Those guys bleed for hours, sometimes days. Healing is not exactly a big priority for the already dead.”

 

“So then what do I do?”

 

“See the sights, have some fun. You are God. Everything is available to you and if we need you we can get in touch with you. Now if you will excuse me… I am going on my break.” Gabriel walked away and shot Walt a thumbs up before heading into a building at the end of the parking lot..

 

“I am God, aren’t I?” Walt smiled as he said this and disappeared in a significantly larger puff of smoke than before.

 

 

Earlier, Gabriel described an angelic and other-worldly technique known as ‘masking’, whereby he is seen by the living as one thing and by everyone else as something decidedly different. When Walt came out of what he believed was his transport away from Gabriel, he realized that somehow he too had experienced the same phenomenon.

 

“Dude…dude…you okay, man?” the voice of an angst-ridden teenage punk had snapped Walt out of his trance, and above him stood three similarly dressed young men, all looking at him with a bit of concern in their eyes.

 

“I was just on my way to Heaven and-“ Walt cut himself off when he noticed that he too was now wearing the clothing of the time, a black torn T-shirt and baggy jeans with pockets so large you could hold small children. Walt tried to make up for his gaffe.

 

“I was…uhmmm…well…I tripped…” is all he could manage to say.

 

“We know, man! We saw your fall! You took quite the plunge from the stage.” The main speaker of the group pointed to where a microphone stand lay snapped in half, and it was then Walt noticed he was surrounded by a large ocean of people, all sitting in quiet as they walked the scene on the big screen over the stage.

 

“Well…I’m fine now I think…”

 

“He’s fine!” All three men yelled, and the crowd went crazy as the guys jumped on stage and pulled Walt with them, who still seemed confused. Walt looked around the stage and caught glimpse of a large sign near the back that read “The Pretty Children”. He picked out the three guys that resembled those around him, and…after looking over himself once more…decided that he was the fourth one in the picture…sadly none of them looked exactly pretty…but Walt’s mind began to wander as he looked out over the throngs of people waiting for him.

 

“I’m a rock star?” Walt mumbled under his breath…and then he collapsed in the middle of the stage.

 

 

When Walt woke up, he was only a tiny bit more aware of his surroundings. Judging by the movement of his body he determined that he was on something moving. He sat up and promptly hit his head on the roof of the band’s bus.

 

Walt sat there and thought about everything for a moment. The last thing he remembered was standing in the middle of a parking lot in central Florida, and when he woke up he was a rock star. He did not remember wishing for anything like that, and for some reason any wishes he made now did not exactly work. But he knew that at some point that he was God and now he wasn’t, and had no idea why.

 

“You awake yet, man?” came the same voice from earlier. The curtain next to Walt’s bunk shot open and the teenage face popped in. “He’s awake, everybody…now get out of there!” the boy pulled on Walt’s leg and eventually got him to the floor of the bus. Walt looked around in confusion at the three boys.

 

“Psst…maybe he doesn’t remember us…maybe he has Anastasia…” came a whisper between the larger boy and the smaller one.

 

“That’s amnesia you idiot!” the smaller one reared his hand back and slapped the larger one in the face. The larger boy just laughed the slap off.

 

“Dude…it’s me…Leon” the smaller boy hugged Walt with all his might, and the larger one came up for a hug of his own.

 

“And you’d never forget your best friend Aaron right? Right?” He looked at Walt for a moment as his smile slightly faded, but the third boy interjected himself.

 

“He’ll remember soon enough, trust me…” he said as he turned around to face Walt. “Oh…and just in case you really do forget…the name’s Pete…” the third boy winked at Walt, causing him to twitch. He really had no idea why. Pete simply put his arm around him in a hug…then bent down and gave him a huge noogie.

 

“Good to have you back to normal, Wally…”

 

“Uhmm…good to be back!” Walt said with a smirk as he sat down on the bus and it continued rolling to its next destination.

 

 

So for the next few months, Walt traveled around with “The Pretty Children” and learned, much to his surprise, that he could sing quite well and even play the guitar. Their new album, “Awakening”, was selling almost as fast as their record label could make them. Being a celebrity again kept Walt happy, and even with all the women around he kept himself pretty isolated from all the shenanigans, but luckily for him Aaron was around to keep all their groupies happy.

 

“Can’t you just pick a girl and stick with her? It’s not hard…” variations of this phrase were constantly being spoken around the tour bus as Aaron told tales of his previous night’s adventures.

 

“For all we know you could be a big fat liar…” When this was spoken by Pete or Walt it was always answered with a pair of women’s underwear being tossed at their face as Aaron chuckled loudly. Everyone knew he was not kidding.

 

All of Walt’s relationships with his bandmates continued to grow, especially with Pete. The two were best friends reasonably quickly, even though sometimes Pete would do things to rub Walt the wrong way. Nothing too serious, really…until…

 

“I hear you call yourself ‘Wally’ now! Ha! What a joke!”

 

“You would think he would be a little more sophisticated and call himself ‘The Beaver’ or something!”

 

“Would you guys shut up…stop picking on Opie!”

 

“Opie! Hahaha!”

 

Walt popped out of this dream and smacked his head off the roof of the tour bus. Normally at this point the talking would stop and Walt would be left reasonably confused. But tonight was much worse, as the laughter continued to echo through his head and seemingly all around him, even though he was wide awake.

 

“What is going on?” Walt shook his head and tried to make the noise stop, but it only got louder, and the taunts continued. He was wide awake now.

 

“Shhhhh…he’s awake you morons, let’s go…” a final voice trailed off and he was left alone in silence.

 

“Pete!!” Walt rolled over and stuck his head outside of his curtain and leaned down to look at Pete, who was reading a book with the help of a small light.

 

“Pete! I had a nightmare!” Walt watched as the book Pete was reading dropped down, and Walt began to see where the light had come from. Walt’s eyes widened in almost fear as he dropped back behind the curtain and rolled as far away as possible…a good three feet or so.

 

As Walt watched, he saw the light move up beside his curtain and then the curtain pull back slowly, revealing his best friend Pete – complete with halo.

 

“What…what…what is going on?!” Walt asked and tried to move even further back.

 

“Walt. I know it’s you in there. Calm down.” Pete’s boyish face morphed in an instant, and suddenly Walt was confronted face-to-face with Saint Peter.

 

“Peter, what is going on? I’m so confused!” Walt seemed trapped but Pete pulled him out of the top bunk and led him outside to a picnic table. Luckily the band had stopped to camp for the night, or the two would have most likely walked into 70 mph traffic.

 

“Tell me, Pete…what’s going on?”

 

“I would have thought you would have figured it out by now. From what I could gather from my memory…” Pete began…and thusly the flashback was triggered.

 

 

“I’m still not too sure what I am doing, Mary...” Walt said as he reappeared in the secretary’s office. She listened somewhat carefully as she continued to take calls. Walt was lucky to be God, or else he never would have known exactly who Mary was talking to or why.

 

It seems that somehow Heaven had struck a deal with Alexander Graham Bell after his death, and after working for a century or two, everyone’s spirit became basically a telephone number. You can go everywhere and anywhere you want, but when your time has come, your spirit calls up to a central desk and then is relayed to wherever in the Grand Scheme of Things it needs to go. It was quite the system.

 

Walt sat on the same chair he sat on hours before, when he first arrived in the office. He did not know what to do. He had done everything he had wanted to do before he had been called up to this office, and could only see boredom in his future. Walt sulked in his chair and made a cup of coffee appear by his side, complete with two creams and a teaspoon of sugar, just the way he liked it. As he drank slowly, Mary finally noticed his distress.

 

“Look, sir. You are going to be in this position for a long time…so I suggest you find something to do with yourself. Gandhi was pretty bored when he first started too, but after awhile he got used to it.” Mary pointed at a map of the universe on the wall. “Ever been to the Moon?”

 

“I can go to the moon?” Walt looked stupefied, and this caused a little laugh from Mary.

 

“You don’t think you are only the God of Earth do you? You are God…period. You can go anywhere you want.” Mary almost did not get that sentence out, as Walt suddenly disappeared in a plume of smoke.

 

 

Within about three millionths of a second, Walt was traveling through space. He would have gotten there in two millionths of a second, but he had to conjure up a surfboard first. Walt zoomed at the speed of light past planets and moons, before taking a good half-hour journey down around the sun. All the while a smile grew bigger and bigger on his face.

 

“Weeeeeeeeee…” Walt laughed to himself as he got a little tan blasting around the sun, before whipping out of its orbit and heading back toward the Earth.

 

“This is amazing!” He couldn’t believe his eyes as he shot past Mercury once more and barrel rolled down near the surface of the cold and lifeless planet. Just as Walt had completed his third loop-de-loop toward Venus, he was startled almost off of his board by the sudden appearance of Saint Peter by his side, walking at the speed of light with no board.

 

“How are you doing that without a board?” Walt saw Peter’s feet barely moving as they both began to slow to a stop.

 

“I’m a heavenly body…I don’t need no stinking surfboard. Now get off that thing, you are making us both look stupid.”

 

“Look stupid? To who?”

 

“To the Commission…I know you are new and everything but you had to at least be told about the Commission at some point!”

 

“Nope…” Walt scratched his head and his board disappeared. Peter grabbed him by the arm and they disappeared in smoke…only to reappear on the surface of Venus, along with a television and Betamax VCR.

 

“Betamax?” Walt pointed.

 

“Of course…we aren’t stupid” was Peter’s reply as he popped a tape into the machine and pressed play. Walt brought up a chair and sat down to watch as the video crackled to life, though the tracking was a bit off kilter.

 

“Meet the Commission” were the first three words that appeared on the screen, along with three pictures. One picture was a man dressed in white robes and flowing hair. The name underneath the picture read “He”. The second picture showed what could best be described as a shadow with a mouth, sporting the name “He Hate Me”, and the third picture was of a kindly old woman in a business suit. Walt watched as the name “Arbitrator” came up on the screen and then the women began to speak.

 

“Hello. I’m sure by now you are wondering who we are. Well these two behind me call me the Arbitrator, but you can call me Mom. The two behind me are my sons, Christian and Judd. Now…what do we have to do with everything? We have everything to do with everything.” Walt stared at the glowing screen as what looked to be a black and white home movie began playing on the screen.

 

“Christian decided one day that he was going to create his own special utopia, something Judd had been trying to do since he was five years old, but kept adding gasoline to the mix and burning all of his creations into oblivion. Well Christian succeeded over the course of one full summer of work, and if you haven’t guessed by now…your petty Universe was born. Isn’t that cool?” Walt looked at Peter, who was reading a magazine.

 

“Well when school started back up we needed someone to watch over everything, and so Christian created what he called “god” to take over. This whole thing pretty much drove Judd crazy as he was out of school and could easily take care of everything,” the video showed Christian building his society and showing it at a science fair, with Judd looking angry in the background. The woman continued, “So somehow Judd here got into the whole system and Satan came out of it. We have been trying to get rid of that position for years and years, but like an idiot Judd hit his head and he can’t remember how to undo anything.” Walt’s eyebrows were raising higher and higher with each passing word as Christian and Judd could be seen silently exchanging words in the background, with the woman finally noticing just as the two began to fight.

 

“Oh no…I have to run. I just want to conclude by saying that if it wasn’t for us…there wouldn’t be any you…so you keep yourself in line and I’ll keep them in line…and we will never have to meet face-to-face…” the women finished and the screen went blank. Peter dropped his magazine.

 

“I know what you are thinking, Walt…and I thought the same thing too when I saw this the first time. You know those voices in your office…that was them baiting you into the job. Simple huh…” Walt shook his head in confusion.

 

“You mean to say…that I’m not the greatest power in the universe?”

 

“Well sort of…just don’t make any mistakes…and hopefully she won’t make any mistakes either. We already lost part of the universe from their silly feuds…we call them black holes.” Walt began to understand slowly.

 

“I don’t seem to have anything to worry about here…what with all the help that’s around.”

 

“Yeah…we do have everything pretty fixed up…the only thing we can’t control are the Horsemen. Judd’s little virus cranked them out too…and you are the only one that can really do anything to them…and even that isn’t much.”

 

“Good thing they are split apart then…” Walt commented.

 

“For now I guess…we can’t watch them all the time…and every once in a while two of them will be in hell watching the wrestling shows and will chat…but we haven’t heard of any suspicious activity.” Walt suddenly got a thoughtful look on his face.

 

“Uhmm…I know I’m God and everything…and I’m racking my brain right now trying to find the answer but it’s not coming to me. So let me just ask…where does Jesus play into all of this?” The question put a disappointed look on Peter’s face and he put his hand on Walt’s shoulder. He breathed a heavy sigh and spoke.

 

“Come on…everyone asks sooner or later…so I’ll go show you…” Peter sighed again as the two disappeared off the Venus surface along with the audio/visual equipment.

 

 

 

 

THIS WILL AT LEAST BE CONTINUED....

Edited December 11, 2003 by The Amazing Rando

[Guest ToddRoyal]

Fun story. All kinds of interesting possibilities could come out of a story like this. I love the Heaven reception desk, and the Ghandi and Lincoln chain of God thing.

 

I hope you keep posting this stuff, as it could be real fun to see where you take this.

[Justice 0]

Very nice stuff. I think you need to work on how people talk (Elvis and Ghandi sound too much alike), but all the stuff down is hilarious. Bravo!

[Guest Fire and Knives]

Please don't ever do this again.

 

K.

[The Amazing Rando 0]

Uhmmm...UPDATED...

 

I just noticed that I had St. Peter using a knife early on and now I don't...so I will go back in and add the knife later...

 

still to be continued.