“Thank you sire,” replied Crumble, forgetting to stay in character, “my entire being is at your everlasting disposal.”
“Crumble,” he reminded him, “remember I’m not the Emperor for now.”
“I’m so sorry,” Crumble apologised, dropping to his knees in supplication, “can you ever forgive me?”
This was hopeless. Mormid tended not to associate himself with any of the countless minions over which he ruled, for one simple reason, they annoyed him. He had classified them over the ???cycles??? as falling into one of three groups, either they idolised him as a god and could barely function in his presence, (Crumble fell into this category), or they feared him and would only interact if it meant him sparing their lives, or weirdly, they saw him as a kind of moral overseer, and would seek his dark counsel with regard to important social matters such as marriages or funerals. Mormid did not have a preference out of the three, and loathed them all fairly and in equal measure. The last time that he had actually enjoyed the company of another being, had been when he was not even yet the Co-leen Emperor. The being in question had ironically been a human by the name of Pete Martin, and though they may not have been what you might call “pals”, there was an undeniable kinship there, perhaps born of a similar difficult past shared. It was perhaps somewhat strange then, that he was currently enthusiastically engaged in setting up the events that would see to the complete annihilation of the planet earth, the home planet of perhaps his one time, and certainly once only, friend.
“The target has been acquired your smashingness,” announced Crumble, shaking Mormid from his reverie, “the canon will fire in three, two, one… “
“Wait!” he shouted.
“Do you wish to abort the firing sequence?”
Mormid was unsure, a feeling he had not felt for a long while, and one which he had long thought he had disposed altogether on his path to becoming Co-leen Overlord. Why was he about to destroy his friend’s home planet? Okay sure the human race was inferior, but he had so far failed ever to find a species which was deserving enough to share the universe with yet. Perhaps it was his own measure that was at fault, perhaps his apparently ceaseless quest to rid the universe of inferior life, was one that was flawed, and about as meaningful as a chess set without any kings. He paused to mull over his next action, would he let the human race go free and continue its bumbling march into tomorrow, or would he continue the sequence, and say farewell to the planet Earth and everything it entailed?
53.
“Come,” heralded God from his heavenly chambers.
Pete made his way hesitantly through the giant gilded door way, and put on his best “great to see you smile” as he approached the celestial throne. He could not yet make out the Lord God Almighty, and was a little confused to find that once inside, the throne itself was actually empty.
“I’m down here Pete!”
He looked downward to where the voice originated from, and was further disconcerted to find that the voice had in fact come from a tiny spider that was currently resting on his jeans.
“But you’re a spider!”
“I appear only as that which you can comprehend,” explained the Lord.
“But you’re a spider!” he repeated.
“I may appear as a spider to you, and then as old wizened man to the next, some perceive me purely as raw feeling, others can only understand me as the realization of all conception.”
“So what does it mean that I see you as a spider?” he asked, quite unreasonably at a loss.
“Who can say?”
“Well surely you can,” he replied, “you are omniscient after all.”
“Well yes, I mean, I certainly could say, but then where would be the fun in that?”
“Erm, you could make it funny, you are… “
“Yes, yes,” interrupted God, “I think we’re getting a little off track here. Why are you here Pete?”
“Well, that’s a long story,” he began, racking his brains for the most appropriate reason, before answering “I’d have to say that I don’t honestly know the answer to that.”
“Well perhaps you can answer this instead,” suggested the Lord, “why are you here and not somewhere else?”
“Well that’s because I came here to see you.”
“So why did you come here to see me?”
“I need your help to save my planet.”
“And why would I want to save the earth?”
“Erm… “
Pete suddenly felt as if he was back onboard the Co-leen fathership, being charged with being grossly inferior. He remembered then that his answer had been totally inadequate and about as convincing as a liberal democrat, so why would the Lord God Almighty want to help him? What was it about the human race and the planet earth that made it worth saving anyway? If he were to list ten reasons why the planet earth deserved its place in the cosmos, his answer would probably appear along the lines of: “animal documentaries, cheese, making things explode, mobile phones, Harry Potter, drinking coffee from tiny cups, pens that contain digital watches, dinosaur documentaries (dubious), cheddar (hmmm), and Saturday mornings”. He instantly realised that this was an answer that would not cut any celestial mustard, and before he had a chance to commence an entire rethink operation, the Lord commented thus:
“These are all excellent reasons, some more excellent than others,” said God, tucking into a mini babybel as he spoke, “however, do you honestly believe that they are reason enough? Since the dawn of time I have not meddled in the affairs of life, having blessed all sentient life with freewill. You now think it appropriate that I reverse this eternal trend and get stuck in, in order that I may save a nondescript planet and its absurd watch wearing species, all because they are known to make a reasonably good array of cheeses?!”
“And animal documentaries!” he added, more because he was an idiot, than a fine orator who was preparing his last triumphant concluding push.
“Well I have to say,” mused Our Heavenly Father, “that I’m not convinced so far. Perhaps if you knew yourself better, then the real reason for your being here would be clear.”
“Are you saying that I don’t actually know the reason why I’m here?”
“Perhaps,” replied God enigmatically.
“Then I don’t actually want to save my planet?”
“I’m sure that you do, only that you’re not necessarily the best person for the job.”
“But I’ve been saying that all along!” shouted Pete, “why me?!”
“Perhaps you were chosen.”
“Did you choose me?”
“Maybe I did,” replied the Lord, “maybe you chose yourself, however rightly or wrongly.”
“So if I did choose myself, what did I choose myself for?”
“Who can say.”
“WELL YOU CAN, YOU ARE… “
“Calm yourself Pete,” interrupted the Lord, “there are some questions that are never meant to have answers.”
“Sorry God,” he said ashamedly, “you don’t mind if I call you that?”
“Of course not, I have as many names as I have forms.”
“Okay, let’s say that you chose for me to be here, and I chose to agree with your choice, then that’s freewill right?”
“More or less yes,” agreed Our Father.
“So the question then remains, why did you choose for me to be here?”
“Indeed it must.”
“Excellent,” exclaimed Pete, finally imagining that they were getting somewhere, “so what is it that you ask of me my Lord?”
“There is something that I want you to do for me Pete.”
Pete was flabbergasted, his flabber was in fact so gasted, that he felt as though he had been put through the mill, only to discover that it had actually been set on demo mode, and to prepare for mill access presently. So it turned out that, all of his life, he had been destined to stand in front of God, and to do his bidding. His earth existence seemed so far away from him, an
d now, he thought of himself more as part of the Renegade gang, than as of a member of the human race. Everything seemed to make sense to Pete for a moment, he then remembered that he had yet to discover what it was that the Lord actually wanted him to do.
“What is it,” he asked, “what do you want me to my Lord?”
“Take me in you hand Pete,” requested God, “then put me up close to your ear.”
Pete did as he was asked, and taking God in his hand, then raised the spider up close to his ear. Now a spider at the best of times, (even one that was in actuality the Lord God Almighty), has a very tiny voice, and this combined with the fact that God then went onto to whisper his request to Pete, meant that what was asked of him, was purely between them. I would venture a guess that God wanted him to give up smoking, (something he rarely did now anyway), or perhaps asked him to be nicer to people. Alas, perhaps we shall never know, the fact however, that he was nodding as God spoke, seemed to show that whatever it was, Pete was willing to do as he was asked.
“I will do what you have asked of me,” announced Pete.
“Excellent,” declared God, his tiny spider face lighting up, “I had hoped you would say that!”
“One thing though God,” began Pete.
“Shoot.”
“Where do I start?” he asked.
“As with all things, we must start at the beginning,” answered the Lord, “and as with all things worthwhile, we must be prepared to make sacrifices on the way.”
“Okay,” agreed Pete, feeling slightly nervous.
“You have seen and done many wonderful things on your journey to find me. All of these things must now be undone, if you are to carry out what I have asked.”
“Are you saying that I won’t remember any of this?” he asked, fearing that he already knew the answer.
“That is how it must be,” replied God, “as far as you’re concerned, you’ll have never left your planet.”
“Can I at least think about it?” he asked meekly.
“You must tell me now Pete, the entire fate of the universe rests on your decision.”
54.
“Do you wish to abort the firing sequence?” repeated Crumble.
All Mormid had to do was say “no”, and the human race and planet earth would live. Not even that, he could merely shake his head or even hold his hand up in protest, and Crumble would abort the sequence. He would then be free to explore a new dimension to his life, one which no longer involved classifying all other life forms as inferior, and then ruthlessly pummelling them out of existence. Maybe instead, he would take up the new craze of death golf, where every pinned shot, meant the activation of indiscriminate land mines that were dotted about the course. Or perhaps he could become a stump collector, lovingly sellotaping his discarded limps into a giant album, all properly ordered by date and origin. The universe was his oyster at last, and Mormid had now been given the chance to immerse himself in its many and varied delights.
“Sire,” began Crumble, “if we don’t fire now, we’ll miss the beginning of Star Trip!”
“Fire!” ordered Mormid, without a moment’s hesitation, “why didn’t you say something earlier!”
And so the massive plasma cannon fired down onto the earth, and point one of milliping later, the planet was nothing more than dust.
55.
“How long is he going to be?” Fendel asked Saint Peter, meaning of course Pete and his current discourse with the Lord God Almighty.
“Who can say?” the saint replied unhelpfully.
“Well does this sort of thing happen a lot?”
“Not a lot no,” replied the saint,” but certainly sometimes.”
“Okay,” began Fendel, “then in those circumstances, how long did it generally last?”
“Time is relative young Fendel, it flies when we are having fun and draws almost to a standstill when we are bored.”
“And would it be fair to say that Pete and God are having a good time?” asked Fendel, his patience waning.
“It would be fair to say,” began the saint, seemingly on the verge of actually answering a question, “that Pete and God,” Fendel’s eyes lit up in the anticipation of a genuine answer at last, “are having a conversation.”
“Damn it,” cursed Fendel, before remembering where he was, “sorry saint Peter, it’s just he’s a good friend of mine.”
“He’s a friend of mine too,” added Crinkle.
“He’s more than just a friend,” declared Slip, “he’s part of the Renegade gang, and that makes him family!”
“Well he certainly seems a popular fellow,” commented the saint.
“We’re worried about him,” said Crinkle, “can’t you tell us how it’s going in there?”
“I’m afraid that what is said will remain purely between him and the Governor.”
“Ah leave it Fends,” put in Slip, “this joker ain’t gonna tell.”
“It just feels like we should be doing more to help.”
“Well perhaps we can,” began Slip, “why don’t we officially welcome Pete to the gang once he gets back? Crinks, you could write a speech and sew him an official Renegade jacket, Fends, you can teach him the customary gang member handshake, and I’ll go and set up the twister board and make some punch! What do we say?”
“Yeah great idea!” they replied.
“What about me,” put in Saint Peter forlornly, “I love a party.”
“Well we could use a cake,” replied Slip, “how’s your icing?”
“Actually I am considered something of a cake connoisseur among the other angels,” boasted the Saint, “what would you want the cake to say exactly?”
This seemed to stump Slip for a moment, so he decided to confer with his Renegade chums. After a moments huddle, he then seemed ready to answer Saint Peter.
“Well,” he began confidently, “we want something that really sums him up. Pete is more than just another ape victim to us, he’s like a much loved brother, one we like to tease a little and make fun of, all in good humour mind. I remember the time he was attempting to make tea in an atom grinder, so Fendel reversed the polarity without him knowing, and when he tried it again, he was reduced down to the consistency of a feather quark, it was hilarious!”
“Yeah,” added Crinkle, “and what about the time we convinced him that the dark matter lock was actually a power shower! Priceless!”
“Don’t forget when he tried to soft boil an egg of uncertainty for breakfast, and it catapulted him back in time to the night before,” put in Fendel, “I mean, a boiled egg, for dinner, what an idiot!”
“Okay, okay,” said the saint, “but how do you want this conveyed on the cake? How do you want it to begin?”
“Oh I see,” replied Slip, “as in the exact wording, sure thing my saint. Right, well let’s start with the obvious, how about: “to…”
56.
“I’ll do it!” declared Pete after a moment’s ponder.
“And you understand everything that it will entail?” asked God.
“I do.”
“Then it is done,” announced God, “everything that happened since you left the planet earth has now been undone. All the moments you experienced, all the interactions in which you partook, every single action which you made, or even thought to make, now never actually took place.”
57.
“Well go on,” encouraged the Saint, “to?”
“To Slip,” resumed Slip, “you sure are a heck of a guy! Why, if it weren’t for you, it is entirely likely that the universe would drop dead. Love you lots, all sentient life. Then finish with kisses.”
“What about Pete?” asked Saint Peter.
“Well we certainly like you,” replied Slip, “not sure about the whole talking about yourself in the third person thing, but I hardly think we know you well enough yet to make a cake.”
“That’s not what I meant,” said the Saint, “I meant the other Pete!”
“Hmmm, let me consult the o
ther Slip,” he said pulling out his communicator, “hello, other Slip, yes that’s right, it’s you, yep, I know, I know, I really am quite something aren’t I. Anyway, can you help us answer a question?”
“You haven’t even dialled,” said the Saint deeply unimpressed.
“Should we make the other saint a cake?” he went on, ignoring him, “what’s that, no we shouldn’t, we should instead tell him to mind his own business and then nick his dinner money, fine, will do, bye darling.”
“You have no idea who Pete is, do you?” asked the Saint, cottoning on to the change in the timeline, “well it appears that your friend has gone.”
“You’re mental,” put in Fendel, “what are we doing here anyway?”
“Yeah, I can’t even remember how we got here,” added Crinkle.
“Come on guys,” replied Slip, “this is heaven yeah, so we must have been summoned right?”
“It appears that your services are no longer needed,” said Saint Peter.
“There you go,” said Slip, “it appears that we are no longer needed, just how I like it!”
“I’m bored,” announced Fendel.
“My hair needs straightening,” declared Crinkle.
“Seriously guys, save that gold for the thoughtwaves, let’s get outta here, Renegade TM is going live!”
That said the Renegade trio turned tail and left.
“Oh,” Slip called back at the Saint, “give our regards to the other Pete yeah!”
“No need,” said the Saint to himself, “you can do that yourself one day.”
58.
“What now?” asked Pete.
“Now we return you to your own life,” answered the Lord, “the life you had before Renegade TM.”
Renegade T.M. Page 23