By Andrew Boyd
Adam was a couple of days old, but looked as if he was about eighteen. More importantly, however, he was a piece of shit. Not literally of course; Adam was human, but a spoiled one that was given anything he ever could need. But he always wanted more, and always thought of himself first. Adam never wore clothes, but if he lived today he would wear angsty torn jeans, a faded graphic t-shirt, and a Justin Bieber-esque haircut. In other words, he was that kind of person.
Adam was not alone, however. His best friend, God, would check in from time to time. God was about an eternity old, and looked like your standard deity, only slightly larger. You may have heard of God before, as they would become fairly famous sometime later in history. Although God was Adam’s best friend, Adam was not God’s.
“God?” Adam called out. “Are you there? It’s me, Adam.”
God rolled their eyes. God had created Adam and gave him a paradise to live in, but Adam was always finding something to grumble about. “What is it this time, Adam?” answered God, trying to stay cool.
“I’m a little lonely,” said Adam.
“What about all the animals I created? Don’t they keep you company?” asked God.
“I don’t know,” said Adam, “I feel like they avoid me sometimes.”
“I wonder why,” said God, passive aggressively. “What do you want me to do about it?”
“Well,” said Adam, tapping his foot, “I was wondering if you could make another human.”
“What?” asked God. “Another human?”
“Yeah,” said Adam.
God was furious. It was always Adam’s assumption that he and Earth were God’s only creations. Adam always felt that everything revolved around him. He even thought that he was modeled after God, even though they looked nothing alike. God had other things to do, better things to do, and Adam decided to press God because he was lonely?
“Listen here, you little bitch,” said God, “I keep giving you all this stuff, but you keep asking for more. When will you stop making problems when there don’t need to be any?”
“But God!” Adam whined.
God realized that grilling Adam wouldn’t stop his creation from complaining. God gave Adam the ability to pray, which allowed Adam to alert God’s pager whenever he wished. Adam took so much advantage of this gift, however, that God had become addicted to painkillers as a result of all the headaches Adam’s messages caused. If God put Adam in his place right now, the long-term prayers would be disasters of angst and insecurity. As a result of this epiphany, God decided to change his tactics, and simply try talking Adam out of his desires.
“I just don’t think you understand the magnitude of what you have asked of me,” said God. “What about free will?”
Free will was something that God gave to all of their creations, but in order to do so God also had to create evil, and as a result they did not want to jeopardize the concept any more than they already had.
“What about it?” asked Adam.
“Well, let’s say you wanted to eat an orange from an orange tree,” explained God, “but there’s only one orange left in the tree. You go over to get said orange, but another human also wanted that orange. What do you do? You just can’t take what you wanted anymore, you have to take this other person into account.” God knew Adam was not smart enough to suggest that they just cut the orange in half.
“Well, maybe you could figure it out for us,” said Adam, “you are my best friend, after all.”
God threw up a little bit in their mouth. They collected themselves, swallowed the vomit, and proceeded like nothing happened.
“I couldn’t do that,” said God, “I’m way too busy to solve problems about fucking oranges.”
But then God had a new thought. “Adam, hold on, if you had this other human to talk to, would you need me to talk to anymore?” asked God.
“I would very much like to talk to you,” said Adam, “but I suppose it wouldn’t be absolutely necessary.”
“I’ll do it,” said God. “I’ll make you another human.”
Adam’s face lit up with glee. “Yes! When do you think you’ll have them ready?”
“I can make them right now,” said God.
Now, creating new matter was a slow and exhausting process for God. One time, he created the universe, which took him six days to do, and afterwards he had to take a whole day to rest. It was much easier for God and much faster if he just cloned existing matter.
“Adam, I’ll need one of your ribs,” said God.
“What?” Adam cried. “You’re not gonna take one of my ribs.”
“I need it to make your human, ya bastard,” said God. “Give it here.”
God reached down, and through Adam’s wailing and slapping arms, snapped off a rib.
“God damn it!” Adam screeched in pain.
“What the fuck did you just say?” asked God.
“Nothing,” Adam replied.
“That’s what I thought,” said God.
God molded a woman named Eve, set to look around the same age as Adam, and propped her down next to Adam.
“A girl?” Adam complained.
“Is there a fucking problem?” asked God.
“I—I’m kind of afraid of girls,” said Adam.
“How are you afraid of girls?” God asked. “There hasn’t even been one before. This is the first one in existence.”
“I dunno,” Adam mumbled.
“You take what I give you and you better frickin’ like it,” said God, fed up.
God turned to Eve. God would need to explain the law of the land to her, because God knew that Adam wouldn’t. Adam, with his wild imagination, came up with something called “common sense,” in which he imagined that everyone thought the same exact way as he did, even though they didn’t.
“Eve, listen, here’s how this works. You can do anything you want, except you can’t eat from the tree of knowledge. Capeesh?”
“You can trust me, God,” said Eve.
“Good,” replied God, “I like you better than Adam already.”
God turned to both Adam and Eve. “I’m gonna leave you both alone now, okay? I have other stuff I gotta do.”
Adam and Eve acknowledged, and God went home.
God sat down in their recliner, recuperating from the train-wreck of a conversation they just had. Just then, God heard a vibration: the pager. God forgot to take Adam’s praying powers away! God, finding it hard to find the motivation to get up, forced themselves out of the house and back to Eden. Of course, it hadn’t even been five minutes before Adam and Eve each ate an apple from the tree of knowledge.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” said God, again and, as always, rightfully so.