by Jack Geurts
Laban and his sons watch them recede into the distance, surrounded by a bunch of sickly goats and sheep.
One of them comes up to him, all gaunt and bony, half its hair fallen out, making a horrible bleating sound like it’s asking to be put out of its misery.
Disgusted by the animal, Laban kicks sand at it to shoo the thing away. “Get outta here, you.”
*
Jake and his wives and his maids and his children have crossed the Euphrates River and are heading for the hill country of Gilead when he finds something he didn’t expect.
“What the fuck is this?” he says, emerging from Rachel’s tent while everyone is having dinner around the fire. He’s holding a small, hand-carved wooden statue.
“That’s a god,” Rachel says, simply. “One of them, anyway.”
“You stole your dad’s household gods?”
Side-note: Household gods were little idols or statuettes that represented various ancestral deities. They could be worshipped in shrines and given offerings of food and drink in exchange for, y’know, protecting the home and shit.
“Yeah,” Rachel says. “Fuck him, he kicked us out.”
Jake and Leah exchange a glance, then turn back to her.
“What the fuck?”
“Yeah, what the fuck, Rach?”
See, while Laban was out shearing the sheep with his sons, Rachel had gone around stealing all her dad’s pagan idols. He thinks he can kick her out like that after she helps Jake steal all his good livestock? Not likely.
So there they are, halfway between Canaan and Haran. A bunch of stolen idols in their luggage and a furious Laban no doubt on his way to claim revenge.
“Goddamn it,” Jake says.
“What, you’re allowed to steal from him, but I’m not?”
“I was stealing for us! So we could have milk and meat and animal hides. What the fuck use is a bunch of wooden idols?”
Rachel pauses. “Piss him off?”
Jake almost goes to hurl the statue in anger, then thinks better of it. “You realise he’ll be coming after us?”
“Let him come. I can take all three of them with one hand tied behind my back and a blindfold over my eyes.”
Leah’s like, “Are you talking about the other night?”
Another pause.
All the children – not to mention the maids – are staring at her.
Jake tosses the idol into the sand beside Rachel. “Just...hide them. We’ll act like we don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.”
*
It takes Laban and his sons about ten days to catch up to them, and by that time, they’ve reached Gilead and are making camp for the night.
The newcomers dismount their camels, all three looking pissed as hell and carrying swords.
“Where are they?” Laban says.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“The gods! What have you done with them?”
Laban and his sons proceed to ransack the entire caravan, turning everything upside down and inside out. One of the younger kids, Joseph, is sitting on a pile of blankets. He can’t read the situation and puts his arms out for a hug.
“Grandpa!” he says, with such surprise and joy that it would melt your heart.
Not Laban.
He pushes the kid backwards onto the sand and begins rummaging through the blankets he was sitting on.
“Jesus, dad!” Leah says, rushing in to pick up the child. You might think he’d start crying, but young Joey is so shocked and appalled by his grandfather’s conduct that he simply stares in open-mouthed horror at the man.
“It’s okay, Joey,” she says. “Your grandpa’s very sick.”
Finally, when everything’s been taken out and strewn over the sand, Laban and his sons come to where Rachel is sitting on one of the camels’ saddlebags by the fire.
“Get up, honey,” Laban says.
“No.”
“I need to check that cushion.”
Jake and Leah and the rest of the family are standing off to the side, watching this. They’ve gone over the plan, but Jake’s still worried. He doesn’t think it’ll work.
“I can’t get up,” Rachel says.
Laban frowns. “What do you mean you can’t get up? I don’t have time for this, Rach. I’ve just ridden ten days to get here and I’ll be damned if...”
“I’m on my period.”
Silence.
The shepherds look away. Laban, on the other hand, is frozen, staring at his daughter. Rachel just stares back at him like it ain’t no thang – which it isn’t – and eventually, Laban comes out of his trance.
“Right,” he says. Turning to the family, he says, “We’ll be off, then. Sorry for disturbing your evening.”
“So disturbing...” the younger son says.
And with that, Laban and his sons mount up and ride off into the night.
No one speaks until they’re well out of earshot.
“Jesus,” Jake says, letting out the breath he’d been holding in since they arrived.
He takes off his cloak, revealing an assortment of weapons strapped to his chest and legs – swords, daggers, axes, you name it. One by one, he removes each weapon and drops it to the sand, infinitely relieved he didn’t have to use it.
Dude’s a lover, not a fighter.
He flicks a coin to Rachel, who snatches it out of the air.
“I really didn’t think that was gonna work,” he says, having lost the bet.
“Name me one thing that makes men more uncomfortable than a woman talking about her period.”
Jake runs a hand through his hair, glad to have gotten out of the situation without bloodshed. “I mean, seriously, how fucking childish do you have to be...?”
He ushers everyone back around the fire where it’s warm. He, Leah, Billie and Zillie console the children about the psychological state of their grandpa – a man who would ride ten days out into the desert to find a bunch of wooden figurines, only to be dissuaded from completing that mission – and from revenge – by his daughter’s menstrual cycle, and to then turn around and head home with what looked like dangerously-few supplies.
Rachel reaches under the saddlebag she’s sitting on, taking out all the wooden idols and placing them beside her with a smile.
A little later, Billie and Zillie are corralling the kids off to bed. Jake is polishing off a wineskin in celebration of his ‘triumphant’ victory over Laban, and as a result, finds himself quite drunk.
He only realises this when, in attempting to follow Leah to the marital tent for some sweet, sweet lovin’, he trips and falls down flat on his face.
Noticing that Rachel hasn’t made a move to come with them, Jake crawls over to her. “What’s the matter, babe?” he says, slurring his words and breathing his wine breath all over her. “You coming?”
Rachel scrunches her nose up in disgust. “Not tonight.”
Jake frowns. “Why not? I was hoping we could do that thing again – y’know, with the blindfold...”
“I’m just not feeling it tonight. Alright?”
“Was it the whole thing with your dad and brothers? Is it because I’m drunk? Because, y’know, I’ve only had, like...”
“I’m just not in the mood,” Rachel says, getting heated. “You two go nuts.”
Now Jake’s getting a little heated too. “But we can’t do the blindfold thing unless you...”
“Forget the blindfold thing!” Rachel snaps.
Jake goes quiet.
A pause.
“Are you actually on your period?” he says, a little tentatively.
Rachel turns on him, eyes wide. “Yeah, I must be on my period, Jake. Why else would I not want to have sex with you, let alone a three-way with my sister? I mean, seriously, how fucking childish do you have to be?”
Throwing that one back in his face now.
She stares at the fire. Jake realises he is being kind of a dick.
“I’m sorry,” he say
s. “Just come to bed, alright. No sex. We’ll just cuddle. Would you like that?”
“It’s alright,” Rachel says. “I’m serious. You guys have fun. Don’t let me ruin your night.”
“You’re not. Come on – let’s do a Jake sandwich. You be the bread, I’ll be the chicken. White meat only.”
“Funny stuff,” she says, without humor.
“Or, like...one of those after-dinner mints. Dark on the outside, white on the inside...”
“I get it – you’re white.” There’s an edge to her voice now – she’s getting fed up with his drunken bullshit.
Jake stares at her, hurt. His eyes are glazed and unfocused. He’s teetering a little. “Why don’t you wanna come to bed with me? Don’t you love me anymore?”
Rachel sighs, exhausted by his constant badgering.
“What?” Jake says. “What’d I do?”
“Nothing,” she says. Then, a little hesitant, she goes, “I’m on my period.”
Jake’s eyes light up. “You are?”
Rachel nods, swallowing her pride. “Yep. Sure am.”
Jake breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I thought I did something wrong.”
He gives her a sloppy, drunken kiss on the cheek (which she quickly wipes off), then gets to his feet.
“Hey, Leah!” he shouts, at a volume that his sleeping children would definitely be able to hear. “Get the blindfold ready. I reckon we can...”
But as he turns to stagger toward the tent, he sees something that stops him dead in his tracks.
There, standing between him and a few seconds of mind-blowing sex, is someone Jake had previously only seen in a dream. At least he thought it was a dream.
God.
And he doesn’t look happy.
“Hey, asshole,” says the big guy.
Then he cold-cocks Jake in the face.
GENESIS 32-33
Bro-Down at High Noon II – Big Trouble in Little Gilead
The first thing Jake sees when he comes to is God throwing a bunch of smaller gods into the fire. He has one of Jake’s wineskins in his hand, and he looks like he’s been drinking pretty heavily from it.
Everyone else has gone to bed.
Jake sits up, rubbing his swollen eye. “Jesus, man, what the hell...”
“Sorry...” God says, a little sheepish. Then he shakes his head, like he had a sudden change of heart, or remembered what he was actually feeling. “No. Actually... You know what, I’m not sorry. You fucking deserved it.”
But Jake’s barely listening. “So that wasn’t...a dream. You’re actually...I mean, you’re actually...”
“Christ, stop babbling. Yes, I’m real. Yes, your entire world, your entire existence is just a reality simulation in my backyard. You’re a fucking science experiment, alright? Get over it.”
Jake is speechless for a moment. The pain in his cheek suddenly seems inconsequential. He stares at the wooden idols burning slowly, and God does the same. He takes a deep pull on the wineskin.
“Everything I’ve done for you...”
“You just told me I’m part of a science experiment,” Jake says.
God squints up at him, confused. “Did I? Shit...”
“Yeah, you basically told me I’m a fucking lab rat. A guinea pig. I mean, Jesus Christ, if its all just a simulation, then what’s the point of it? Of anything?”
“There is no point.”
“Then what’s...”
“I’m gonna stop you right there, because I feel like you’re about to go down a dark path that logically can only end in suicide. I’ll answer that question with another question – what was the point before?”
“Before what?”
“Before tonight?”
Jake frowns, thinking about it. “I don’t know. Become the father of a great nation, I guess?”
“And what’s changed?”
“Well...I don’t...”
“Nothing. That’s what. You were going to be the father of a great nation and you still can be. One day you’ll die and your children will live on. They’ll talk about you and remember you. They’ll multiply over the generations and eventually become their own people, and you will be remembered as one of the founding fathers of an entire ethnicity.” He corrects himself, “Or...religion. Or...both, I guess.”
God continues to think about it, realising even he isn’t entirely sure what he’s building toward. He shakes his head, shelving the conundrum for another time. Surely, people won’t spend millennia arguing over that exact thing. It’s all good.
He goes on, “Anyway, the point is, that’s more than most people can say. Most people just get forgotten. One day, someone speaks their name for the last time, then no one ever speaks their name again. That won’t be the case with you.”
He passes the wineskin and Jake takes a swig. He looks up at the stars, thinking about the orb floating in the puddle. “I’m a goddamn prisoner.”
God scoffs. “Were you listening to anything I just said?”
“I am, though. You’re up there in the real world and I’m trapped down here in a bubble in a puddle.”
Jake’s shoulders have slumped, his whole body sagging under the crushing weight of this realisation.
God takes pity on him. He leans in close, and in a conspiratorial whisper, says, “What’s to say that’s the real world and this isn’t?” He then gives an eyebrow-raised nod, like, “Eh? Never thought of that, did you?”
Jake’s stares back at him, blankly.
God snatches the wineskin out of his hands. “I’m serious. What makes my world any more real than yours?”
“Because...” Jake struggles to find the right words to express himself. “It just is. You built this. It’s artificial. It’s not natural. Ergo...”
“Don’t say ergo – it makes you sound douchey. And who’s to say my world wasn’t built by someone or something even greater than me? How do I know for certain that I’m not trapped in some simulation, and you’re just in a simulation inside that simulation? The only reason you know about me is because I’m revealing myself to you, willingly. You’re no more a prisoner than I am. It’s just a matter of relativity.”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means...my cage is a lot larger than yours. But it’s still a cage.”
Jake takes a moment to process this. He looks up at the sky again. “Do you actually think there’s another level above you?”
God lets out a sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe. I was trying to be metaphorical.”
Jake deflates a little, disappointed. “Oh.”
There’s a lull in the conversation. Jake feels compelled to fill it.
“So, wait...why are you mad at me again? I was going home to fulfil my destiny as father of a great nation...”
“Which you stole from your brother.”
God gives him a hard stare. If you’ve seen the movie Paddington, you’ll know what I’m talking about.
Jake winces. “You saw that, huh?”
“I see most things.”
“Not everything?”
“No, not everything. I do have a life outside this place.” A bit of an edge coming back into his voice now.
“Okay, okay,” Jake puts his hands up, like you’d do with a horse to calm it down. He says, “So that’s why you’re mad?”
“Well...that and you pissing on the altar.”
“That was twenty years ago.”
“Still.”
“I was trying to get your attention.”
“Mission accomplished.”
“I wanted to know if it was a dream or not. Why wouldn’t you just come down and tell me?”
“Because you don’t call the shots here, buddy. I don’t answer to you. Also, what the fuck was that about peeling the sticks and forcing the animals to mate in front of them?”
Jake starts getting defensive. “What? The logic was sound.”
“The logic was non-existent. Sympathetic magic? Give me a fuck
in’ break.”
“Well, if it was so ridiculous, how come it worked?”
“It didn’t work,” God says. “That was all me.”
Jake’s stunned. “That was you?”
“‘Course it was fucking me. Same as it was me who made Leah infertile and then made her fertile again.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“I don’t know, I can’t remember. I was probably still mad about the altar-pissing thing.”
“Jesus Christ, you can hold a grudge. You’re a child, you know that?”
“And you’re not? Making a sacred altar and then...”
“Pissing on some rocks in the desert...”
“Don’t even start. You knew exactly what the fuck you were doing.”
“So what? I was angry. I just saw my entire fucking universe contained in a goddamn puddle in your backyard. And not just any puddle. A hole you dug for a porch you didn’t build that you allowed to fill with rainwater. The whole thing is a monument to your laziness.”
God pauses when confronted with this information.
“Is not,” he says, though even he knows it’s a weak comeback.
Jake shakes his head, disappointed by the pathetic drunk before him. “I’m going to bed.”
Jake gets up and goes to leave.
“I spoke to Esau,” God says.
Jake stops, turns. A little worried.
“And?”
“He’s patched things up with your mom, and married one of Ishmael’s daughters. They’ve got a family down south, in the land of Seir. He’s doing pretty well for himself.”
“Oh, good,” Jake says, trying to sound genuine. “Great. That’s great. I’m glad he’s...doing so well.”
God narrows his eyes. “Is it?”
“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t it be? What’s past is past.”
God continues to study him, suspicious, then breaks out in a cheerful smile. “Good, I’m glad you feel that way. Because he’s coming up to see you.”
All the life drains out of Jake’s face. “What? Why?”
“I invited him, of course. Told him you’d meet in Mahanaim. That cool with you?”
“Uh, well, yeah, I guess...”
“Great. Just keep heading south until you see my boys Raph and Gabe. That’s how you’ll know where to stop.”
