International Blasphemy Day isn’t until next Saturday, but there’s nothing like getting an early start when it comes to screwing around with imaginary overseers. I just found myself wondering what it was like for those two imaginary ancestors of humanity, after they finished eating and found themselves evicted. So this story, more or less, happens between Gen. 3:24 and 4:1.
Adam and Eve stood on the gravel path leading up to the gate and didn’t care for what they saw. An angel was blocking the gate. He wasn’t one of those nice, benevolent looking angels, either. He was one of the nasty ones, face all screwed up in an appropriately wrathful expression, glowing with righteous indignation. Partly, he was indignant because that was his job, and partly he was indignant because he was a angel. Angels were usually handsome and perfect, while he was wrathful and perfect, which might have been okay except for the being an angel part, since perfection apparently didn’t include having genitals. He was as sexless as a plastic boyfriend doll. He was also waving a flaming sword in front of them if they got too close, and that could get a little boring after a while.
“Well,” Adam said, after a while, “this really sucks.”
“You shouldn’t have eaten that fruit,” the angel commented. Scary as he looked, his voice was surprisingly high pitched. It was like Godzilla talking in the voice of Barney Fife, Adam would have thought, if he’d ever heard of either of them.
“It was her idea,” Adam reminded the angel. He was starting a precedent. If there’s blame for something, make sure you blame somebody else.
“No,” Eve said, “it was that damned snake.”
“You said ‘damned,'” the angel pointed out, shaking a finger at her.
“Well, God took away his legs and cursed him, so I think it fits.”
“She’s got a point,” Adam said.
“Okay, fine,” the angel conceded, “the snake is damned. You still can’t come back in. The boss said so.”
“But the snake,” Eve objected. “That sneaky bugger is still in there.”
“You two have free will,” the angel declared. “He was just doing his job and being a snake. So it’s your fault.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t know that until afterwards,” Adam complained. “Your boss can be a little cryptic, you know.”
“That’s just his mysterious ways. That’s how he works. Mysteriously. Because he’s mysterious in his mysterious ways.”
Adam shook his head. “Overtly would be better,” he said. “Then we’d at least know if we were fucking up or not. I mean, honestly, we screw up, so God is going to send our ten-thousandth-great-grandchild to hell for eternity because of that?”
“It does sound a little extreme,” Eve agreed.
“I don’t know,” the angel said. “Maybe. He won’t be sending anyone to hell for the next 4,000 years or so. The Christians need to invent it first. Mostly, I think he’ll just kill people and that’ll be the end of it.”
“I don’t much care for that, either,” Adam said.
“What’s a Christian?” Eve asked.
“I’m not entirely sure,” the angel admitted. “I found them mentioned in our library up in heaven, but the boss hasn’t quite decided how to do them yet. To be honest, the bookmaker angels are already giving 9:1 odds that they’ll just be a lot trouble.”
“So, you’re definitely not letting us back in?” Adam asked.
“Not a chance. Anyway, once you two get on your way, I’m supposed to pack up the whole place and move it to Missouri.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure. Some guy named Smith wanted it done.”
“Some guy?” Adam asked. “I thought there was only the two of us.”
The angel shrugged eloquently, his arms wide-spread. The flaming sword sliced off a large branch that overhung the wall.
“Oops,” the angel said. “Well, one less thing to pack, I suppose.” He looked at Adam and Eve and let just the slightest hint of compassion cross his wrathful face. “Look, I don’t know who the guy is. I think he’s somewhere way up in the future, but he needs the garden to be in Missouri for some reason. Now, go on, get out of here.”
The two humans shrugged. Hitching up his rabbit-skin loincloth, Adam headed off down the path, with Eve walking dejectedly by his side. They walked for hours, until they came to a pleasant brook under a cliff, with a convenient cave for shelter.
“Looks like a good place,” Adam said. “We’ve got water, and a place to sleep, and there should be fish in the brook.”
Eve was a little tired after their hike, but found herself remembering something else God had told them. “You know,” she said, “I’m noticing a desire for you. You think we should fuck?”
Adam considered. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” he said.
“Oh, good.” Eve quickly threw off the rabbit-skin bikini she was wearing.
“You know, ” Adam said, shucking his loincloth, “all that time we were running around naked, I never really noticed how hot you are.”
“Is that supposed to look like that?” Eve asked. “It always used to just hang there, didn’t it?”
“Sure. But I kind of like it this way. Feels good.”
“But if it stays that way for more than four hours, you should see a doctor,” a heavenly voice intoned.
They both looked around, but saw no one.
“What’s a doctor?” Eve asked.
Adam merely shrugged. “No idea. I’m not even sure what an hour is.”
“He never explains anything, does he?”
“No,” Adam agreed. “I guess we really are on our own.” He embraced his wife, trapping his magnificent member between them.
Eve suddenly pushed him away. “I just thought of something,” she said. “God made you out of clay, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“And then he made me out of one of your ribs, no?”
“Yeah, right.” He pointed down at his trembling timber. “Pay some attention to this, why don’t you?”
“Well, it’s just that, if I was made from one of your ribs, doesn’t that technically make me your twin sister?”
“I’m not sure. It might, I suppose. Or maybe it means you’re really me, but prettier.”
“So if we fuck, it’s either incest or you’re fucking yourself, and it’s a weird kind of masturbation? Something like that?”
“I never really thought about it.”
“Oh, just fuck her,” the heavenly voice intoned. “There isn’t anybody else.”
“It’s a philosophical problem,” Adam said. “It needs answered.”
“It’s not a philosophical problem,” the voice said. “Philosophy hasn’t been invented yet. Just get to it.”
“Are you planning to watch?” Eve asked. She was starting to feel shy again.
Not a sound was heard from the heavenly voice. It was not for the human to know that they’d been created mostly because God was bored, and wanted to watch porn, but there hadn’t been any people yet, so he’d made a couple, figuring they’d sooner or later start fucking and give him something to watch.
Eve had an idea. She got down on her knees and started sucking Adam’s cock. She decided she didn’t care if he was genetically her brother. How could she? He was the only man there was and, besides, God had stopped them with the fruit only half-eaten, so they’d just got the notes, not the whole knowledge package, and she didn’t know what genes were.
“Praise me,” God said to himself. “The ingenious little buggers have invented oral!”
“Uh, wait a minute,” Adam said.
“For what?” Eve asked. “And what’s this white stuff you’re squirting all over my face?”
“Well,” Adam said, “I’m not sure, but it feels really good doing it. No, I was just thinking, if we’re going to be fucking, shouldn’t we be married first?”
Eve looked around, gesturing. “Do you see a priest anywhere?”
“No. But I’m fairly sure God wanted us married.”
God was a little frustrated. The blowjob was nice, but he wanted more. Guess I’ll have to handle this, he thought.
“Hey, you two. I now pronounce you husband and wife. Adam, you may now fuck the bride. In my name I pray. Now get to it.”
And so Adam knew his wife, who was genetically his sister and also himself, and before long Eve had popped out Cain and Abel, and she was already tired of the whole thing, which is why she named Abel “Abel.” Of course, she called him “Havel,” really, which is how the name is pronounced in Hebrew, and it means “futility.” She probably should have considered that more carefully.