Jehovah and Allah took a cigarette break between the mackerel and the
meat course. They were reminiscing as usual. "I wonder whatever happened
to that Eric Clapton chappie. Bit of a moody bugger, be was," Allah
mused, blowing a perfect smoke ring. "Haven't seen him around for a few
years now. I suppose folk must have stopped believing he was a God, so
he's left us."
"Good riddance," Jehovah muttered, "cocky little git. Mind you, not half
as bad as that Duke of Edinburgh. Self opinionated twat if ever I heard
one. Who's responsible for worshipping a bore like that?"
"Some tribe in Borneo or New Guinea, one of those places. Beats me why
they don't stick to tree's and rock's, at least they keep their gob's
shut. Most of the time." Allah shivered as one billion humans faced
Mecca and confirmed his existence, then he continued: "Remember that
bleeding great helicopter what turned up, then those Amazonians made
it their God. I really enjoyed that. Didn't say a word, just lay around
behaving itself and rusting to buggery. Not like Eric Clapton".
"Or the Duke of Edinburgh," said Jehovah, scratching his chin. "Tell
you who I miss though. I miss Marilyn Monroe. Now there was a real
Goddess".
Allah sighed agreement. "Yeah, she was something. Very clever lady.
But these screen goddesses don't last very long. Who is it now,
whatsername, moves like a cat." He picked at a tooth. "What's her name?
Sun Myung Moon? Or is that the one with the specs? Can't remember, they
come and go. Moves like a cat. Pass the toothpicks Jay, sodding
mackerel bone."
"I loved it when this place was crawling with cats. Really relaxing
watching them, letting them rub against you. Pity the Egyptians going
over to worship you Al, heh heh." The old Gods chuckled and wheezed,
same as every meal time, day after day, century after century, just
waiting to be forgotten. Then they heard Him coming, the Supreme Being.
His power growing ever greater as more and more humans worshipped Him
above all others. Jehovah and Allah cast their eyes downwards as He
approached, half jealous, half afraid, very tired.
At last He spoke. "I see you've started dinner without me, gentlemen.
Not very polite". The geriatrics shifted their bums uneasily and
muttered "Sorry. No offence. Won't happen again." The Yen took his
seat at the head of the table.
