“This is a great book that makes things super clear, right?” God asked Mohammed.
The prophet nodded. He had learned to let God go on when he was in this kind of mood.
“The thing is that I didn’t send many prophets to the ancients. No messengers came to them… and they mocked him. And you know, Mo… may I call you Mo? I’m gonna call you Mo. Mo, I’ve killed a lot of people. Just straight up murdered them. Some of them were really strong too. But I’m the strongest.”
“And the funny thing is that if you asked them, “Who created everything?” they would say, “You did, Lord.” But then I blasted them anyway.”
“I give you guys everything,” The Lord said. “Just like… rain, man… rain… have you ever thought of where rain came from, Mo?”
The Water Cycle, Mohammed thought.
“Bullshit!” God said. “I made it rain. Forgot I could read your mind, didn’t you?”
The prophet nodded.
“What else have I done for you ingrates? Ships… I built those boats… yeah… all of them… and animals. You guys ride them around, but they’re mine. But you ungrateful humans never thank me for them, do you? DO YOU?”
“No, Lord,” the prophet said.
“Damn right you don’t,” God said. “Such ungrateful children. And stupid too. You idiots actually think angels are chicks. I don’t like chicks. Don’t like them at all. I don’t know why I made them for you. I should have made you guys like… split in half and grow new halves like amoebas… you don’t even know what amoebas are… why am I talking to you?”
The Prophet remained silent.
“You know, Mo, you’re a good listener. Abraham was a good listener too. There was a guy who knew stuff, man… I miss him. Not like all those stupid idolaters who wouldn’t listen.”
“Sigh… I’ve given you people everything. EVERYTHING! And they still worship other gods. I made some of you really powerful and rich… doesn’t that deserve a little something something? You know, some barbeque? A few prayers every day? Something?”
“You know what, Mo? I’m going to murder them too… and then burn them forever. Like forever. They’ll flesh will blister and crack and drip away, but I’ll make it new again and then it’ll blister and crack and drip away again and I’ll keep healing them. Because they wouldn’t say thank you and throw a few friggin’ prayers my way!”
“Moses… Moses, man… have I told you about Moses?”
“Several times, O Merciful One,” The prophet said.
“Well, what about Jesus? You know people say he’s my kid, but I never even met that Mary broad… I think she’s just trying to stick me with the child support. Lying chicks, you know, Mo?”
The prophet nodded.
“I like you, Mo. You know, you and your desert band can come and hang out in my garden when you die.”
“Couldn’t you make the desert bloom into a garden now?”
But the Lord had left already. The prophet sighed and laid down his quill.