It wasn’t the first time the syndicate had me break into the Vatican. Nice costumes, but the Swiss Guard is really just for show. They wanted this. I read it. Sounds like bullshit to me, but I understand why it was locked up. Still, Hitler’s panties were more disturbing. This was on thirty bond typing paper in handwriting that looked a bit gay to me; seriously, there was more than one heart over an i. I also don’t think that god is a guy. I think he’s neural pathways, how we create the world daily. It seems like some external force the way that certain schizos think the right brain is an outside voice when it passes information to the left. Still, this was under ‘How Evil Came into the World; I Am’s journal, 187’
Journal I AM
Day one, Again, Fuck. I fucked it up again. I should lay off the dope, fried food and hookers. Maybe next time I’ll just tell the earth monkeys that shit is a sin. I don’t know, maybe I’m a fuck up. It’s pretty, all this shit, but what’m I supposed to do with it? Maybe I should just leave it alone.
Day Two, like I haven’t been here before. I don’t know, I kind of like it but it just isn’t right. Wish I had paid attention when I was teaching myself quantum mechanics. Hmmm, was that really me? Fuck. Seriously I AM, you have to lay off the dope. There was that other guy, I think, or maybe I Am from some other fuck up that I blew up. I could really use a second set of eyes. Man is useless, second guesses every damned thing I do and I’m pretty sure rips off my stash when I’m out making dogs and mountains and --- hmmm, dogs? Nah, they’re fun but they aren’t objective.
Day Three, another day three Something different, I need to do something. I need someone with fresh eyes who knows his shit, someone sober, someone with a keen eye, someone whose notes I could copy for all that quantum shit, time and space folding, parallel universes, endless possibilities whittled down by perception --- whoa, that’s heavy, yeah, I want to do that shit. But it’ll fuck with the ego stroking. Maybe I’ll make all the critters think dude is evil and I’m good. If they curse him and blame him for the fuck ups I get to play good cop. Well, maybe not all the critters, definitely the monkeys, but I think I’ll just let the dogs be dogs, I like dogs.
Day Four, I did it! Ok, so I took the scenic route. I made these poor bastards like a cross between monkeys and dogs. They got no fucking tools, hell, they don’t even have free will, but they got weapons. Strong as a dog, mean as a man and self-righteous sons-a-bitchs. I’m going to give them cool ass names so they think of themselves as individuals. I got two dwarf stars and a black hole riding on this, I’m betting they’ll splinter, and the guy that wants to be out of my sight, he’s my quantum guy, my second in command, my scapegoat.
Day Five, cool, haven’t been too many of these.
It worked. Someday the monkeys will think this is how to get laid. I ignored this great ugly wonderful son-of-a-bitch and he got all pissy, said I sucked at making things and am an absentee landlord. He got a bunch to go with him too; they call themselves angels, though they are still keeping the names I gave them. I call my right hand Bright-eyes but his mean little minions of darkness call him all sorts of different shit; Beelzebub, Mesistopheles (I just can’t be spelling that right) Satan, shit like that. I’m going to have him up for tea and see if he can figure out some kind of way of keeping the wheels from falling off.
Day Six, I like it, it’s good
That glorious bastard said he wasn’t coming to my place for tea, Gabriel and some of the others were lying in wait with big ass swords and teeth and I better come to his place and fuck the tea he’s got this homemade hooch that’ll kick my ass. Well he said Gods ass. Prick refuses to call me I AM, says I ain’t, that was the other guy, he says I’m like a dog, I chase my tail too much. God is dog backwards. I got shitty about it, but I kind of like it.
Day Seven
I’m not doing shit today. My head hurts and I feel like puking. I’m going to teach the monkeys how to make better hooch, that red devil’s hooch tastes like ass. But I did something right when I came up with him. Though he won’t even give me that. He says he wasn’t my idea, he says he was an inevitable idea and that makes him his own idea. He says that’s how shit has to work, order and chaos, and since I think I’m a fucking artist his gig is to spray paint angel graffiti all over my work. I like him. He’s got an ass kicking schedule for me though, I have to make a few more universes, and let them all sort of play out. I also have to set up the whole good/evil thing and he’ll be god damned if I just let the monkeys come up with it on their own because half of them will get it backwards and he does not want to be worshipped by monkeys. Dogs, he says, they can hang out, he’s got a few pets, and cats, he says, they are all his.
He knows he quantum shit, he knows about balance, he knows about monkeys. He can’t make hooch for shit. It burns. It’s like torture. Day eight, fuck I’m whupped. Made three new universes. I made some contrivances so I don’t have to be hands on all the time. I really did some twisted shit with the monkeys. They begat the shit out of one another, I’m going to have to redact incest, that is so not cool. I’ve taken to calling the fallen angel My Naughty Little pony; in a billion years Craig Ferguson is going to call his audience that. He cracks me up. My Naughty Little Pony taught me how to do that shit, something about time not being linear and shit, says if I want to I can know all things; it’ll look like magic and scare the living bejesus out of the monkeys, have them stroke my ego out of fear. I like the guy. When he gives up the Ass Hooch, I’m buying him a beer. Oh, and he fixed the gross begetting, had one of brothers kill the other one. Scared the shit out of the monkeys. They’re going to put it in a book about me, and yeah, they’ll take out most of the good shit and put in goobleity gook, but that story stands; Hey Monkeys, Don’t Do bad Shit Or You’ll Have to Drink My Naughty Ponies Ass Hooch.
I think things’ll work out. My Naughty Pony has bought into it; he’s going to make sure shit works out. I think he’s scared that if, more like when, I shitcan this creation I won’t make another one of him. I told him I thought he was his own idea. He told me to go fuck myself. It was tense for half an eon and then we started laughing and making up stupid shit (I brought him some of my best chronic) like could I make a Rock so big I couldn’t move it? Or how can absolute good abide absolute Evil? And what is the sound of one hand clapping? Which had us looking at our hands and going all “Whoa, dude, my hands look weird, what a trip, watch this” and throwing tracers.
My apologies y’all. I have no Idea how long this took or if it even qualifies as a flash. It’s also not horror exactly. I’m a bit distracted. I’m actively cleaning up things that have been horrifying me. I’m not sure I can poison that well if I wanted too. But I believe in the spirit of the flash. I believe in October Horror flash. I’ll try my damnedest not to make all of these silly. I don’t even believe in good and evil, I think them what do either had some frightening trauma or have been very sheltered. It’s just not how this world works in any subjective sense. The question isn’t why do bad things happen to good people or even why do good things happen to bad people, the question is; Isn’t it cool things happen?
Loading comments...