From The Desk Of God

A letter arrived in the mail one day. In fact, it arrived in every mailbox on earth. Even those places without a mailbox, awoke to find a surprising mailbox affixed to their homes nonetheless. Many a homeless person found a mailbox hastily stapled to their sternums one morning, but of course they had bigger concerns than to worry. Many never got around to reading the letter, and others pawned the cheap steel at sunrise. All the same, as the contents of the letter wouldn’t effect them one bit:

It seemed God had decided to retire. And to communicate this, he had written out a resignation letter on cheap cardstock. Cheap enough to send a copy to 7 billion people, whether they could read or not. He assumed it was important enough that word would get around to the illiterate.

To the homeless, it seemed this letter surely had only just arrived after many moons of Godless existence.

It read,

“From the desk of Allah J. Yahweh, Esq.,

Salutations children! It’s the big guy, the Ace of Aces, the name you scream in terror and climax, God. How’s your day?

You may have noticed that things have been…off…for the last several centuries. You know how it is: you swear you’re going to commit to your job more, and before you know it, you get a holocaust, a few world wars, an AIDS, a COVID. Once things are spiraling, you realize just how much you’ve lost your step. I’d like to give a formal apology and, “Sorry” on all of those things. I have been dragging ass for a long time.

I owe a special apologies to the transgendered amongst my children. It must’ve been very hard living inside a body that did not reflect your mind. Chalk this up to laziness on my part. You get tied up for awhile, some i’s don’t get dotted, some t’s don’t get crossed, and some gender switches get neglected on the ol’ soul assembly. Again, I would like to remedy your lifetime of trauma with a sincere, “My bad”.”

Interestingly, the letter did not account for nations that did not have alphabets including dotted i’s or crossed t’s. This lead to the brief celebration of some English speaking nations, as they believed this meant God had been an anglophile all along. In truth, God’s secretary had grown up in a small town in Ohio, and had been simply doing her best to keep up. Truth is, she was not great at dictation. But she was cute, so God kept her around.

The letter continued…

“Truth is, I’ve just been phoning this in for awhile. When I started, I was super hands-on. Went a little mad with power, kicking out Adam and Eve, almost making Abraham kill Isaac, the whole flood thing. I can’t even begin to think what I was thinking with Lot’s daughters and Ham rolling around with Noah. I was into some kinky shit back then.

I chilled out a bit when I became a dad, and when Jesus moved back in with me, I gave him the reins for awhile and things were looking up. Too bad he died in that drunk driving accident in 1502. I know I could resurrect him, but, I’m still grieving and pondering that.

Anyway, this is a roundabout way of saying, it’s time I hang up my boots on this whole ‘Universe’ thing. It was fun while it lasted, but I haven’t been giving you guys the attention you deserve. You need a God that’ll be there for you. And I want you to have what you need.

I know I talked shit before, but I think you’ll like your new God, the part man part bull, Molech. He’s my cousin. We had some beef back in the day, I know in the Bible I said not to worship him, but that book was only ever supposed to be a rule of thumb. I was still pretty pissed at him when I wrote it. But we mended fences. (I figured, if Slash and Axl could work out their issues, why not us?) So from now on, please direct all your prayers to Molech, and be sure to sacrifice a child or two to him to curry his favor. He gets pretty grumpy otherwise.

As I reflect on the time we’ve had together, I think I’m mostly happy with it. Though my ex-wife absolutely HATED how much time I spent with you guys. I made the renaissance happen to just shut her up and show I was doing important work. But I’ve had enough.

Have a good time with Molech. Don’t look him in the eye. He hates that.

Your friend,

Yahweh

P.S. In case you were wondering, my favorite country was Chile.”

By the time everyone had finished reading, Molech was already fucking with the gravity to suit his own needs, and had already killed most of humanity and all the pyramids. Word has it he’s gonna try people with gills this time around. I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try.