Mean Gods
an excerpt

“The meek shall inherit the Earth…Well, they can have it”, thought Jehovah, as he sat on his golden throne, brooding. His gossamer gray curls surrounded a face that somewhat resembled Santa Clause when he smiled—which wasn’t often. The throne room was all velvet, gold and red, with the white light of the castle walls radiating with their quartz brilliance. He was draped in white silken robes, a crown of gold upon his head covered in gems and jewels, some of which shone in colors unknown to any but the gods. But still He sulked.
There wasn’t much cause for merriment. After all it had been two thousand years since his Son had been to that wretched planet—an oedipal misguided adventure to be sure—and in all that time things had not come to pass as He had intended. They should have been much farther in His Plan, but They were not. If the People were aware of the fact that HE was having doubts…well, best not to think about that right now.
Two thousand years was nothing—not to a God (capital G, of course. The ones who got remembered got the capital G), but He knew that that should have been enough time for the People to have come to the conclusion that he had already ascertained—that immeasurable Truth that was the All…but no matter. He had sent his Son, he had sent The Book. He had blessed those who believed…He could not make it more plain without showing up blazing stone tablets in Times Square. Now THAT would be convenient…but even He had rules to follow.
He sighed and looked at his surroundings. His royal Palace in Heaven was greater than The Book said. The inter-dimensional physics of his castle above the Earth was the stuff that The People could not yet understand, seeing only the planets and stars above them. Dimensions swam in between the layers of time and space—vast universes within universes, held in the minutia between two grains of sand.
“What is it, Sir?” A voice said.
The voice startled Him—which was definitely NOT a good sign. Verfana, lithe and very thin for an angel, had approached the throne without His notice. Not a good sign indeed.
She was dressed in black slacks and a light green sweater. Sometimes the conventions that found their way up to his Kingdom were distracting, to say the least. That “as it is on Earth, so shall it be in Heaven” clause was brilliant, if He did say so Himself.
“What do you want, Verfana?” he asked, impatiently. Verfana was Heaven’s equivalent of a court reporter, her laptop under her arm, endlessly reading back the events on that wretched planet, and other dimensions. Granted, He was everywhere, and knew everything but that didn’t mean that there weren’t distractions. And it never hurt to get some additional perspective.
“I just wanted to relay the day’s news.” Verfana said, wincing. She could tell that He was not in a good mood. And He could be a vengeful God, when the mood struck.
“Let’s start with technologies.” Said Jehovah, leaning back. “Technologies” was, of course, his favorite news topic, again, because “as on Earth, so shall it be, yadda yadda…” As soon as The People invented something it became immediately available in Heaven. No manufacturing, no sales contracts, no pesky Union officials to deal with.

Just “poof!”
I-Pod.
Giving each of The People a piece of the Divine Spark had been a good idea. A great idea, really. It allowed them to harness His creativity, without allowing them too much power—He had seen what happened when They had too much power—and it was not good.
“Let’s see Sir,” started Verfana. “There is another hybrid automobile about to come out. Apparently it runs on chicken fat. “
“No.” He rolled his eyes. Chicken. His worst animal ever—tasted like everything else and brainless, dirty animals. There was not a single chicken in Heaven. He would not allow it. It amazed even Him how many people were disappointed by that.
“There’s a new video conferencing phone that utilizes plasma screen TVs”
“What in Heaven would I use that for?”
“Sorry Sir. Um, there’s a new Slurpee…”
“What flavor is it?”
“Vanilla Peach-Mango.”
“Excellent” With that, the Almighty snapped his fingers and suddenly was holding a small cardboard cup that bore the 7-11 logo. He took a drink from the red plastic straw. “Hmmm…that’s not bad. Make it so.”