by Lisa Dyer
“One of the less classy arrivals I think. You all right there?”
Alice glared at him. Julian took it all in his stride.
“Right, well, when you’re ready we’ll be in here.”
George and Julian turned away. Over the years, they’d seen countless new arrivals to their floor. This had to rate as one of the more undignified entrances but then again, the floor had recently been polished and was now, very much a health and safety risk. George, naturally, had filled out the appropriate forms to report it.
Alice lay on her back and stared at the ceiling.
“Oh. My. G...”
In what only can be described as super slo-mo, Alice heard Julian yell ‘Noooo!’ except, this being slo-mo it was slower than that whilst George collapsed into emergency landing mode.
“.... God!”
***
The Heavenly Throne Room was seemingly endless. A long Perspex tube, through which zipped pieces of paper that emptied out into a large over-flowing bin, ran (presumably) the length of it – if indeed, it had a length.
On his throne sat God; he wasn’t what you’d expect being small in stature. Oh, he had the white beard and crazy white hair but he also had an eye patch and was sat slumped on his throne looking as if he were moping.
The Seraphim stood to the right of him and sang his praises in close harmony. They were dressed in tight white trousers, white sequin waistcoats and had chests as smooth as a baby’s bum.
God rolled his eyes and puffed out his cheeks. If he had a watch he’d check it.
Alice crashes through from the ‘ceiling’ and landed on her back in another undignified heap. The Seraphim stopped mid-praise and stared at this new arrival and then at their Lord.
God immediately perked up. From down the side of his throne he grabbed his megaphone and put it to his lips: “Go away!”
Alice pulled her head up and stared but it seemed the Lord wasn’t finished with her yet.
“Are you deaf?”
Now, you’d think that being in The Presence of the Almighty One would render most people impotent; their legs would turn to jelly, and they might vomit but not our Alice. She’s made of sterner (and nosier) stuff.
Up she got and approached The Throne, her curiosity, and not to say her anger at her treatment this last…however long, was up.
God slid off his of his throne – he had to slide as whomever had made The Heavenly Seat had over anticipated his actual size, not having had the privilege of enter The Presence and hadn’t realized that God was a bit on the petite side.
God squared up to Alice – he came up to her chin. With alacrity one of The Seraphim broke rank, leading to whispers of ‘brown nose’ from the other two, to grab the Holy Standing Box. God, with a little help, mounted it and lifted his megaphone again so it was right in Alice’s face.
“I’m waiting!”
Alice should have been, by this point, either be completely gaga having just been given the answer to the eternal question that had plagued mankind since the dawn of time or, in the very least, be so dumbstruck that she was unable to function. She was neither and with no due deference to the Greatness she found herself sharing a space with, she gently pushed the megaphone aside and continued to stare.
God was beginning to feel a little self-conscious: “What are you looking at?”
Alice slowly lifted her finger and with a deliberate motion jabbed God in the arm.
He pulled up the megaphone: “Stop that!”
“Are you...?”
God let out a sigh. “The Almighty Redeemer and Creator of All Things? What do you think?”
“Then I’m...”
“Dead? ’Bout the size of it and before your Lord and Maker so... (he put the megaphone to his lips) Don’t push it!”
“You know I’m a fan of Darwin?”
“Ack, you’re young, you’ll get over it. He’s kicking around here somewhere. Should have seen the look on his face when he came up the stairs - priceless. I got The Dominions to take a photo.”
God pointed to the said of Darwin - the sort that captures hapless victims of the roller coaster at Alton Towers.
“Have to say though; you ballsed up.”
Alice felt quite indignant. “I didn...how?”
“Getting yourself squished by a bunch of cows. I mean, cows!” and he roared with laughter. “
He pointed and Alice lifted her hand to feel the dried pat on her face. She tried to rub it off but it was stuck and good.
“It’s not even glamorous, face down in a pat.”
Alice looked rather po-faced, or should that be poo-faced, as God continued to cry with laughter. The Seraphim joined in, not because they found it funny – frankly, with no brain cells between them, they had no idea what was going on, but because they felt they should. “It’s not coming off, you’re stuck with it.”
Alice glared at The Tiny Divinity.
“At the start of my day, I did not intend to end up here with... midget God.”
God glared at her in a miffed kind of way and with a deliberate tone said: “I like you.” Then he held up his right index finger. “See this finger? It’s got the power. Just like in that chapel that bloke painted, whatsisname…”
“Michelangelo” hissed one of The Seraphim.
“That’s the one,” and God gave the beaming angel the thumbs up whilst the other two squirmed and muttered ‘arse-licker’ and ‘toady’ under their breath.
“Okay, then make me un dead!”
God clambered down off his box and back onto The Heavenly Throne.
“Can’t. Out of my hands.”
“Oh, come on! You did it all the time in the Bible!
God flopped his hand: “Ack, Bible-smible! Look, I am not in control of this place any more. It’s all run by a Management Team. They did a time and motion study and decided I wasn’t ’cost-effective’ enough. All they ask of me is to sit here getting the prayers of that lot down there... (he waved to paper pile) and to listen to dumb, dumber and the one know one fancies, singing my endless praises. And between you and me, endless ego massaging is a little tiring after a while.”
Alice pressed her index finger and thumb together and holds them up in an indication of how much she cared.
“Ooh! Hoity!”
By now Alice was naturally beginning to feel just a tad peeved with God.
“I’m dead; why are you surprised?”
“Look, the committee convened and decided your fate. Nothing I can do about it. And between you and me, I wouldn’t have been that harsh! But, that’s The Principalities for you. High on the smell of power.”
“Er hello! You must have known when you created me that I’d end up getting squashed by cows ergo you cannot punish me for something you preordained.”
God’s eyes lit up. He jumped off The Throne and went to a filing cabinet (which Alice was pretty sure wasn’t there before).
“Ah, no, see, preordination went out with the Great Restructure.”
After what seemed like an interminable amount of time God pulled out a rather snazzy looking document, quite thick and wire bound. He licked his thumb and began to, well, thumb through the pages, muttering to himself as he did.
“Ha! Page twenty - God gives man free will. Right there, black and white. Basically toots, you chose death by cow.”
He held the document up but snatched it back before she had a chance to lean in far enough to see the small print.
“’Bout the only thing those busy body Principalities got right. Do you know how much time I was wasting on spoon feeding you lot? Give you free will and you’re off and that means more ’me’ time.”
Alice frowned. None of this made any sense and not just the fact that she was sitting in the Heavenly Throne Room with God.
“Free will doesn’t not wipe out predestination - it’s twisted logic.”
“Lady, you’re sounding like a Calvinist. Besides, you killed Mildred.”
“Who the holy…i
s Mildred?”
God pointed to the mess on her skirt. Alice stared at it and then gingerly plucked a feather out of the mess.
“Oh!”
“Now, Mildred, as it happens, was due to die today….”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“By a fox! You know what happened, cos you intervened? The fox got Betty. Betty was due to be dinner. Because she was eaten by a fox, the farmer’s wife went out for lunch and got hit by a bus. Pandemonium. See, how it works? Now, if you’re quite finished
God picked up his megaphone, flipped a panel in The Throne and hit a button. “Toodles.”
“But I’m not....” and with that she disappeared through the ‘floor’.
God giggled and jiggled his legs like an impish child. He pointed the megaphone at The Seraphim.
“Hit me with some Tom!”
The Seraphim duly obliged with some close harmony Tom Jones as God swayed from side to side clicking his fingers and getting ’on down’.
***
As Alice crashed to the floor in the third ungainly heap of the day, a thought passed through her mind that maybe she would never use stairs again and that this was quite normal for Heaven. She picked herself up, staggered to the nearest chair and slumped back in it.
George and Julian, who had been on tenter-hooks since she shot off, leant forward eager for information.
Alice, aware of the pregnant pause, opened one eye and peered
“What?”
“You’ve been in the Presence!”
“Yeah, like that was anything to write home about!”
George let out a gasp and had to steady himself on the desk.
“Easy there George, remember she’s new.”
Alice sat up and opened both eyes. “Where is this place and who was that short weirdo upstairs claiming to be G...”
“Ah! Don’t say it! You go back now and he’ll be seriously pissed. Did he lift the eye patch?”
“No! And what’s that all about any way? You lot having a ’go to work as a pirate day’?”
“No. Wonky eye,” replied Julian. “You know, one eye looking at you, one eye looking for you, that kind of thing. Bit of an embarrassment really but, you know, self-creation, things are bound to go wrong. But, kind of explains the whole burning bush approach to physical manifestation. I mean, who’s going to take Him seriously if they’re trying to work out who He’s talking to? Moses’ would have died laughing before he got the commandments written down.”
Alice rose from the chair and looked around the office. George felt jumpy, what if she removed one of his folders and didn’t put it back straight?
“Look, I don’t know what this place is, or if this is some kind of dream…”
“You’ll wish it was.” Muttered Julian.
George sat back down at his desk, partly because he was a shocking teacher’s pet but also because it was the only way to stop this person moving his stuff.
“No, no, no, I’m sorry, I’m afraid you’re very much stuck with us,” he said as breezily as he could as he realigned his staplers. “No way out. No clicking of the ruby slippers...It’s not so bad, you know, once you get used to the idea. I got quite upset you know once I realised what it was about but you soon settle down. Well, you must, don’t you? Don’t have much of a choice really. And, save one thousand souls and you get promotion. How about that?”
Alice was straining to see the positive aspect in any of this. Yesterday, she assumed it was still today but who know, she had plans to meet up with her mates, go and get her hair done and phone her mother and now she was looking at ten thousand years in a broom closet. “I suppose Him upstairs thought of this place?”
Julian chuckled. “Yeah, He’s a card.”
“He’s bonkers.”
“I am omnipotent you know.” Came a disembodied voice.
“Bully for you!” yelled Alice.
Julian lowered his voice with a quick glance upward “Well, He’s you know ‘Him’; got to be a little bit...” he spun his finger around the side of his head. “Last week, right, word got around that He was trying to persuade the Virtues to change all the seasons because He thought it might ’shake things up a little’. Week before He got some stupid idea that He wanted to shift a few land masses around because He wasn’t sure He’d got the original design right. Can you imagine the chaos that would’ve caused?”
George nodded his head. He had the doleful eyes of a baby seal.
“I tried suggesting a few things to take his mind off the boredom,” George said, wistfully. Backgammon, Ludo, quiet game of crib, that kind of thing.”
“And?” Alice felt sorry for George. He was clearly eager to please his Lord.
“He changed me into a ping pong ball. For a whole week.”
Alice tried to suppress a laugh but seeing George’s distraught expression she felt bad.
“Oh, come on, George, cheer up. If He’s so ungrateful that He can’t see you were trying to help, then…sod Him.”
“I’m still here, y’know!” came the voice of God through his megaphone
Alice glared upward and then looking at Julian and George declared, in a very decided manner.: “I want to appeal!”
Her announcement was followed, at first, by a stunned silence, then by George spluttering and finally by Julian bursting out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Alice felt indignant. How dare they not take her seriously.
“You can’t go around changing the way heaven is run just because it doesn’t suit you.” Cried George, although, to be fair, he often tried to do exactly that because he thought his way was much better. “No good’ll come of this! Mark my words! You’ll end up in the Other Place being...hot spooned by imps or worse, they’ll put you in the Perpetual Wedgie Machine.”
“The what?” Alice was sure this place was getting crazier by the minute. A thought occurred to her that maybe she wasn’t dead at all, just in a coma or something.
“The last bloke who tried to appeal ended up in the Perpetual Wedgie Machine,” explained Julian. “On a clear night, you can still hear him yelping.”
“Well, I don’t care,” said Alice defiantly and before Julian or George could stop her she called out the Lord’s name.
***
When Alice landed in her fourth (or was it third, she was losing count) winded heap, God had just scored a strike at The Seraphim bowling, which basically consisted of God hurling a bowling ball their legs
Alice recovered from her landing and stood up. “I want a word with you.”
God pulled a face and put down his bowling ball and shuffled over to his Throne.
As Alice walked past The Seraphim she suddenly realized all was not as it should be. Instead of the three that were present not an hour ago, now there was one and two mannequins.
“Hang on…where’s dumb and dumber?”
God rested his cheek on his hands and said in a stroppy voice: “Took them away; said they had to be redeployed. It wasn’t efficient to have three singing my perpetual praises when I could have one and a backing tape.” He clicked on the play button and karaoke style backing music blared out.
The lone Seraphim, rather like Pavlov’s dog, responded by going into full Nolan Sister’s mode. God whacked the tape machine with his megaphone.
“Do stop that!” he snapped then turned his attention back to his visitor. “Anyway, what do you want? And how do you keep getting past The Thrones?
“Never mind that, I want to appeal.”
The Lord and Mighty Redeemer screwed up his face and put his hand behind his ears feigning hard of hearing. Alice wrenched the megaphone from his tiny hands and used it.
“I said, for those at the back (The Seraphim took this literally and went to look for those at the back, with a rather delighted look on his face) I WANT TO APPEAL.”
Somewhere, from deep inside Heaven the sound of a warning siren could be heard.
God snatched back the megaphone and gave her a goo
d ticking off: “You’re in big trouble. Big. Big. Trouble.”
Alice was just about to answer when she realized that God seemed to be going through crisis.
His expression had gone from petulant, to horrified to terrified and he sort of shrunk down in his seat and proceeded to slink off onto the floor in one fluid movement suggestive of a lack of bones.
Next thing, he’s on all floors and crawling like his life depended on it behind his throne. From this point of perceived safety, God gesticulated wildly and in a very loud whisper hissed: “Hide.”
Alice took a few moments to register all of this by which time it was far too late and besides, it was obvious he was hiding, so she turned and looked to see what abomination had caused him to have an attack of the willies.
Alice screwed up her eyes to focus on whatever it was that was coming towards them. At first the shape seemed to be indeterminable, a mass, fluid and shifting in purpose until it sort of coalesced into human form
Alice shook her head and looked again. The woman wore a sharp navy blue suit, court shoes, had big hair and bright red lipstick.
“What’s Sarah Palin doing here?” enquired Alice who was now absolutely convinced that she was in a coma.
“No, someone worse. Someone with real power,” hissed God.
Alice, having authority issues, saw it as a challenge and squared up.
“You must be a Principality?”
The Principalities gave her a withering look that, if she had been a milk would have turned her sour.
Undaunted Alice ploughed on: “Good, I want to lodge an appeal.”
The Principalities swept by her and sat on the throne. She looked over her glasses at Alice as she simultaneously pulled out a large wad of forms from her briefcase.
“For the record, it’s The Principalities. I’m a definite article.” She slapped a two-page form down on the table God kept his Rubik’s cube on. “B452A.”
Alice allowed herself a little sigh of relief. “That it? A stupid form?”
The Principalities pulled out another wad of forms and dropped those onto the table.
“638 A through C - in triplicate.”
Alice moved to pick them up but The Principalities slapped her hand down hard on the paperwork.
“And... we need an affidavit from each party affected, directly or indirectly, by your stupidity.”
“What the h…” she bit her tongue with the sudden thought that if saying the G-word brought her here, then maybe the H-word would do the same. “I got killed! Me. The cows are fine.”