The Concert
by Ken Hurley
God was upset. He had a complaint too. God complained there are too many complainers. God mumbled to himself as he rocked in Grandma’s rocker tokin’ his favorite herbaceous Asian sativa.
“Everyone has something they’re bitchin’ and moanin’ about. It’s sickening. Where’s the gratitude? It’s never enough. They all want more. And I gave them their own planet too. So
many other places. Why am I wasting time with Earthers? Time to end it all!”
“Gabriel? Where are you, Gabriel?” God shouted.
Gabriel transcribed the final cadenza for his latest prospective hit single entitled Boogie-woogie Angel and came running. “Yes, Sir?”
“I’m sick,” God mumbled.
“What?”
“Sick! God shouted. “Sick and tired of that mess down there. They’re doing it all wrong!”
“You mean this is the end?” Gabriel questioned with an anxious yet cherub-like grin.
“That’s right, Gabe. Go get your horn.”
Gabriel was ecstatic. At last, the concert to end all concerts, and he would be center stage. The lessons from Satchmo
would finally pay off. Gabriel put his lips to the mouthpiece and waited for the downbeat from the Creator.
“Hmm, I don’t know,” God said.
“What do you mean, ‘I don’t know’? If you don’t know, who does?”
Gabe, I know you’re excited, but I need encouragement not snide wisecracks. This is a big step for me. Until now, it has been a famine, pestilence, plague, virus, flood, slow internet, or an earthquake to keep them in line, but to end the whole thing, I just don’t know how to go about it anymore.
“Don’t worry about your conscience. Pretend you’re a Republican! Just drown them in another flood.”
God scowled at Gabriel, “Why do you think I spend so much time making color-coordinated rainbows? Don’t you remember my promise? I just want them to do things my way – to love each other as I love them. Besides, they’ve got excellent drainage systems.”
Gabriel sighed and scratched his head.
God sighed and scratched Gabriel’s head too.
“Well,” Gabriel said, “Throw some lightening bolts and blow them up. That’s how you got that bush to burn for Moses. Remember how much fun you had? This time instead of one bolt and a burning bush; send a thousand bolts and blow them from here to kingdom come.” “Can’t,” God said. “They’ve got radar to trace the bolts and ABM missiles to intercept them.
God paced and puffed deeply on his fatty Chong.
Gabriel sat in God’s chair, leaned back and put his feet up on God’s desk. God kept pacing while Gabriel pumped the valves of his horn with one hand, and tried to get two little BB’s in the eyes of
the Cracker Jacks surprise toy clown with the other.
God stopped in his tracks, snapped his fingers, and shouted, “I’ve got it!”
Gabriel jumped and fell backwards over God’s chair jarring the BB from the right eye.
“No, it’s too silly, ” God said.
“What is?” Gabriel asked, picking up his horn and God’s chair.
“I could blow them off the Earth with a gust of wind. “
Gabriel snickered. “You’d make some sloop owners happy.”
“But I don’t want to litter the cosmos,” God said.
Suddenly an idea came to Gabriel faster than a Kardashian getting another follower.
“Have an earthquake,” Gabriel said, licking the mouthpiece of his horn.
“Can’t,” God said. “They’ve got buildings that sway with the quake. It wouldn’t destroy everything.”
God and Gabriel scrupulously examined the blueprints of the Universe.
“Nothing. Not one flaw.” God said.
“You do good work, sir!”
“There’s got to be a way,” Gabriel said grinding his teeth in dismayed anger.
“I can’t see one,” God cleared his throat and spit.
Gabriel was frustrated. From childhood it had been his dream to play for a large crowd. “What about starting a humongous war and let the people kill themselves?” Gabriel asked.
“Maybe. I’ve thought of that one too, Gabe. I’ve been sending Godly visions of love to all those mindnumbed religious leaders around the world. I’ll tell you this, those knuckleheads sure do misinterpret my messages of love. It’s disgusting how they can be so exclusive, narrow-minded, self-righteous, and hateful. They have convinced millions of people to uphold values and prejudices that I just don’t condone. They even use my name to defend their principles. They keep saying The Bible is the word of me! Nit wits.”
God grabbed his hair with both hands, pulled hard, and screamed a deep primal scream. Then coughed.
“If they had any idea of what my messages of love are about they would be able to sit in the same room, have a beer or something, talk happily, constructively, positively; and, with just a litte effort be able to live in harmony. Where did I go wrong?”
“Religion, what is it good for?” God sang like Edwin Star’s ‘War’ what is it good for? Absolutely nothing! God danced and as he sang then threw a Nerf ball into a little hoop over the waste basket. Swish. Of course.
“Maybe someday some maniacal lunatic will lose his cool and push the button, but don’t hold your breath Gabe, belive it or not they’ve still got Henry Kissinger. And he won the Nobel Peace Prize! Jeezeus!”
Gabriel had to vent his frustration. He clenched his fists and flattened God’s desk into the floor.
“Yoicks,” God said, “Chill boy! Chill.” God passed the joint to Gabe.
Gabriel took a hit and started to pant. He opened his mouth to scream but was so frustrated that only a high-pitched shrill was emitted through the space between his two front teeth. Gabriel attracted all the dogs in the neighborhood.
“Get hold of yourself,” God said as he dished out some Alpo. Gabriel caught his breath and regained his composure. “Just between you and me, may I play something for you on my horn?”
“Yeah, I guess so, ” God said. “It’s hopeless.”
“What would you like to hear?”
“How about a soft mellow rendition of Over the Rainbow?”
