Read Online Waiting for Godalming by Robert Rankin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert Rankin
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“I can hardly wait till you put on your pile ointment, chief.”
“Yeah, right. But I can’t chitchat with you all day, Barry. I have a thousand big ones up front and a case that needs solving.”
“Forget that, chief. This is
really
big. God’s gone missing. Don’t you hear what I’m saying?”
“Sure I do, Barry. But if God’s got the hots for some piece of kosher tail, that’s hardly my business. God knows His own business best.”
“No, chief, you’re missing the point. If God doesn’t get back on the job, there’s no telling what might happen to the world.”
“But I thought you were implying that God
was
on the job, which is why His wife’s so upset. Haw haw haw.”
“Chief, pay attention. If God isn’t up in Heaven, managing things down here, then things down here are going to get hairier than a prize-winning pooch in a hirsute hound competition.”
“Ease up there. But I don’t get you, Barry. What do you mean about God managing things down here? Everybody knows that God doesn’t exactly have a hands-on approach to running the planet. God gave man free will. He doesn’t intervene. He doesn’t take sides. God’s neutral. Like Switzerland.”
“That’s what God would have you believe. But it isn’t so. God has always taken an active part throughout the course of human history.”
“You mean by inspiring people? Like poets and painters? Like prophets and priests?”
“No, chief. They’re all just nutcases. God never actually speaks to anybody, but He has shaped human history. And would you like to know how?”
“I would,” I said, and I would and I did.
“The weather, chief. God controls the weather.”
“Oh,” said I, and “does He?”
“Yes He does. Think about it. The entire colonization of the world depended on which way the wind blew and there are heaps of battles that were won or lost according to the weather. The Spanish Armada blasted away in a storm. Hitler expecting a mild winter in Russia. Rain stopping play each time England get near to winning back the Ashes. Everything in human history has ultimately been governed by the weather.”
“Well, I never knew that.”
“Of course you didn’t. But think about this. The only things you can’t insure against are acts of God. And that’s floods, lightning and earthquakes and all that palaver. And that’s God sticking His oar in.”
“You live and learn,” said I.
“Well, some of us do.”
“What’s that, Barry?”
“Nothing, chief. But what I’m saying is that God manages the weather and the weather manages human affairs and human history.”
“So what exactly
does
God have against the Ethiopians?”
“I think they nicked the Ark of the Covenant. God does have a very long memory. You never heard of a Jewish saint, did you?”
“No,” said I, “I did not. But what has all this got to do with me?”
“Wakey-wakey, chief. God’s gone missing. His wife wants Him found.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“That very much depends on what it is you think I’m saying.”
“Me?” I said. “You want
me
to find God?”
“God’s wife wants you to find God. Someone told her that you were the best in the business.”
“
Someone?
Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“If you think I’m saying that it was me—”
“Barry, I love you.”
“—then you’re wrong, chief.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing, chief. Not a thing.”
“Me!” I upped right out of my chair, skipped the light fandango and turned cartwheels ’cross the floor.
“Whoa! Don’t do that, chief! Agh! Eeek! Ooh!”
“Sorry, Barry.” I fell into a perfect splits position before back-flipping over my desk to land once more upon my chair. There to turn a whiter shade of pale.
“The piles, chief?”
“Urgh!”
I sat upon an ice pack and pondered my position. I was being called in to
find
God. This
was
the Big One. This was
The Case
.
“I can hardly wait till you put on your pile ointment, chief.”
“Yeah, right. But I can’t chitchat with you all day, Barry. I have a thousand big ones up front and a case that needs solving.”
“Forget that, chief. This is
really
big. God’s gone missing. Don’t you hear what I’m saying?”
“Sure I do, Barry. But if God’s got the hots for some piece of kosher tail, that’s hardly my business. God knows His own business best.”
“No, chief, you’re missing the point. If God doesn’t get back on the job, there’s no telling what might happen to the world.”
“But I thought you were implying that God
was
on the job, which is why His wife’s so upset. Haw haw haw.”
“Chief, pay attention. If God isn’t up in Heaven, managing things down here, then things down here are going to get hairier than a prize-winning pooch in a hirsute hound competition.”
“Ease up there. But I don’t get you, Barry. What do you mean about God managing things down here? Everybody knows that God doesn’t exactly have a hands-on approach to running the planet. God gave man free will. He doesn’t intervene. He doesn’t take sides. God’s neutral. Like Switzerland.”
“That’s what God would have you believe. But it isn’t so. God has always taken an active part throughout the course of human history.”
“You mean by inspiring people? Like poets and painters? Like prophets and priests?”
“No, chief. They’re all just nutcases. God never actually speaks to anybody, but He has shaped human history. And would you like to know how?”
“I would,” I said, and I would and I did.
“The weather, chief. God controls the weather.”
“Oh,” said I, and “does He?”
“Yes He does. Think about it. The entire colonization of the world depended on which way the wind blew and there are heaps of battles that were won or lost according to the weather. The Spanish Armada blasted away in a storm. Hitler expecting a mild winter in Russia. Rain stopping play each time England get near to winning back the Ashes. Everything in human history has ultimately been governed by the weather.”
“Well, I never knew that.”
“Of course you didn’t. But think about this. The only things you can’t insure against are acts of God. And that’s floods, lightning and earthquakes and all that palaver. And that’s God sticking His oar in.”
“You live and learn,” said I.
“Well, some of us do.”
“What’s that, Barry?”
“Nothing, chief. But what I’m saying is that God manages the weather and the weather manages human affairs and human history.”
“So what exactly
does
God have against the Ethiopians?”
“I think they nicked the Ark of the Covenant. God does have a very long memory. You never heard of a Jewish saint, did you?”
“No,” said I, “I did not. But what has all this got to do with me?”
“Wakey-wakey, chief. God’s gone missing. His wife wants Him found.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“That very much depends on what it is you think I’m saying.”
“Me?” I said. “You want
me
to find God?”
“God’s wife wants you to find God. Someone told her that you were the best in the business.”
“
Someone?
Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“If you think I’m saying that it was me—”
“Barry, I love you.”
“—then you’re wrong, chief.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing, chief. Not a thing.”
“Me!” I upped right out of my chair, skipped the light fandango and turned cartwheels ’cross the floor.
“Whoa! Don’t do that, chief! Agh! Eeek! Ooh!”
“Sorry, Barry.” I fell into a perfect splits position before back-flipping over my desk to land once more upon my chair. There to turn a whiter shade of pale.
“The piles, chief?”
“Urgh!”
I sat upon an ice pack and pondered my position. I was being called in to
find
God. This
was
the Big One. This was
The Case
.
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