THE WRITINGS OF JOHNNY PAIN
Ralph has the RV stopped in a rest area, overlooking a vista of field after field of the grey, muddy sludge that had replaced the grass and the forests. A warm wind was blowing the stench of a putrid landfill into their faces as they silently stretched their legs.
Ralph occasionally, like just then, had regrets about the way he had played the whole god game on earth. Every time a species died out he had killed a few humans before he could reign in his anger -- the accidents his followers talked about, but other than that... he had no idea the gods would destroy something like earth in their quest for power. Power?
Ralph thought of power as responsibilty, and that was the last thing he wanted. ... though when the wild animals on the planet were all gone, he had begun to spend a lot of time in the past for awhile, going back and revisiting the long lost, dark green quiet of forests, the laughter of clean rippling streams. .. and then, he would have changed the course of earth had he been powerful enough.
Now, after the other gods had grown practically too strong to be challanged, he was finding himself suddenly gaining followers.
He had realized something else about Jesus during the practical joke -- the deity did not take him seriously. Ralph had been surprised at the time to find his old buddy had grown into such an asshole. Standing there looking at what the ruling four percent of humans had done to the earth, he realized that he was gaining followers without even trying, and for the first time ever, he wondered if he should have played the whole god game, been political around the other gods and solicitous to the humans? That wasn't him, but he doubted it was the other gods, either -- at least until they became involved in the power games and started judging themselves and others by how much earthly stock they held. Still.... he might have been able to stop the destruction that turned the look out point from a gorgeous vista of receeding pine forests into a place to mourn.
Ralph told his followers only, "I just figured out that I could probably take over the moon, give you guys an eden."
All but Mugily were awed at the thought of going a place none of them could even think of without choking on rage and hatred at the Bush Dynasty. . . Eden.
"They wouldn't let a black guy like me up there," kiplo said.
"Well, see... the Bushes would have to be... taken out of power, and then... Mugily and me would be setting up new rules... and you guys, too... except, nothing about foot fetishes or cleaning rituals. I have been working a long time to get rid of white and black as labels... You know, I used encourage inter-racial marriages all the time. Purely for aesthetics, actuallty... you have to admit, you white humans look half finished or something."
"Your white?"
"No, I am deeply tanned."
The Janitor to the stars spoke next, asking a question that they had all contemplating asking, "Ralph, why does a god like you have to chain-smoke joints all the time?"
"I don't."
"Every time any of has seen you, you have joint in the corner of your mouth."
"I started smoking the stuff after finding out the effect it has on the humans around me. They are a little more creative, a bit sillier, take life and all just a little easier. When I am not around humans, I don't smoke it all... "
Mugily was sceptical. "Should I write that up in the official scripture, or are you going to give me a different answer for this question next time it is asked?"
"This is another one of those things that is too complex for me to convey to a small, human brain."
Mugily knew the last statement was how Ralph blew off conversations because they bored him. Obviously Ralph was getting something out of the weed -- even if it was more pleasent human contact.
"I have another question. You're a god, so how about a little enlightenment for us? When does that happen."
"I'm not going to make you into something that you aren't. Humans are not enlightened, and to make you so would ruin what you are. Now let us silently pray."
Asking for prayer was the most polite way that Ralph demanded silence from his followers -- he had once sent the snoring Celebrity Janitor onto the roof of the bus, where he was blown off immediatly. He remained dead for sixteen hours before someone asked Ralph about him.
Ralph indeed had wanted to finish his thought... though it was sure a buzz killer -- if he was willing to clean up his act and be all selfless, he could get enough followers on earth to knock jesus down a few pegs. He would then have to spend a lot of his mental energy keeping his flock and all, and nothing would ever be the same.
A black helicopter appears from behind a brown mud horizon, zooms straight in on them fast as hell and begins firing machine guns, huge metal contraptions strapped to the landing gear and spitting a steady stream of exploding bullets.
Soon enough, the invincable Ralph was standing in a pile of dead disciples. He checked to see who was in the helicopter and found the beagle with Mad Donna's head, a couple Ashface Kurcher cloans and a Bouncing Tommy Death Doll. He flicks a finger and ball of white lightening encompasses the helicopter, smiting them down into a dust of the same grey as the muddy hills.
Ralph resurrected his followers and began the journey down the mountain of mud, to the land of the Specialists, where he needed just a few thousand followers to take over the moon... or, so he thought... Ralph, despite his claim that he smoked weed to keep the humans around him from killing his natural god buzz, was indeed math-addled from Chain Smoking weed for 130 years.
His followers pulled out a bottle of vodka and were doing shots, trying to quiet their nerves . . . they were really starting to get irritated with Ralph's saving them only after they were dead. Ralph enjoyed the spectacular accidents too much to take their opinions seriously. What could they do?
He wouldn't be able to get away with shit like that if he had to win over a large flock of humans. His god mind could tell that he was spreading from pig to pig through their land, a god who they could worship instead of Porky... they even designed a game Ralph The God, getting the human gamers in their lands to inadvertantly worship him too. That along with the Elvi-peeps was a good chunk of the center of the americas. As long as the powerful gods were taking him for a stoner concerned only with the next joint, his conversions would look accidentel to them -- since the first ones were. As long as he wasn't noticed by any of them preaching or answering prayers, he could probably keep up the farce for enough months to gain enough prayer strength to toss out the egotist Jesus.