I still have to come up with a good title..

‘Okay, think of something.’

‘We could pray.’

‘Pray?’ said Smith. ‘Now, there’s one thing I ain’t tried. Let’s pray for a little precision earthquake right here.’ And Smith went down on his knees, there on the cement walkway of the bridge, bowed his head, closed his eyes, clapped hands together palm to palm, prayer wise, and prayed. At least his lips were moving. Praying, in broad daylight, with the tourists driving by and walking about taking photographs. Someone aimed a camera at Smith. A park rangerette in uniform turned her head his way, frowning.

‘Seldom,’ the girl murmured, embarrassed, ‘you’re making a public spectacle.’

‘Pretend you don’t know me,’ he wispered. ‘And get ready to run. The earthis gonna start buckin’ any second now.’

He returned to his solemn mumble.

‘Dear old God,’ he prayed, ‘you know and I know what it was like here, before them bastards from Washington moved in and ruined it all. You remember the river, how fat and golden it was in June, when the big runoff come down from the Rockies? Remember the deer on the sandbars and the blue herons in the willows and the catfish so big and tasty and how they’d bite on spoiled salami? Remember that crick that come down through Bridge Canyon and Forbidden Canyon, how green and cool and clear it was? God, it’s enough to make a man sick. Say, you recall old Woody Edgell up at Hite and the old ferry he used to run across the river? That crazy contraption of his hangin’ on cables; remember that damn thing? Remember the cataracts in Forty-Mile Canyon? Well, they flooded out about half of them too. And part of the Escalante’s gone now — David Gulch, Willow Canyon, Gregory Natural Bridge, Ten-Mile.

Listen, are you listenin’ to me? There’s somethin’ you can do for me, God.

How about a little old precision-type earthquake right under this dam? Okay? Any time. Right now for instance would suit me fine.’

He waited for a moment. The rangerette, looking unhappy, was coming towards them.

‘Seldom, the guard’s coming.’

Smith concluded his prayer. ‘Okay, God, I see you don’t want to do it right now. Well, all right, suit yourself, you’re the boss, but we ain’t got a hell of a lot of time.

Make it pretty soon, goddamnit.
A-men.’

• Digg this
• Recommend on Facebook
• Share via MySpace
• Tweet this

‘Maybe life’s just more mysterious than you think it is.’

‘You know, you spent too much time with Chantilas. But, if you want to go the god route, the easy way, it’s up to you..’

‘Easy way? There’s nothing easy about a spiritual life, it’s a lot more difficult than just being intelligent.’

‘I think you’re just ignoring the facts.’

‘The facts.. I bet you had no fun in Christmas, i bet your mom told you there is no tooth fairy when you were 4..’

‘I’m a geneticist. I write code, ok?
A, G, T, P.. in different combinations, hacking the human genome, ok?
I choose what, I choose where, and either your kidneys work or you grow a sixth finger. I do that.
Now, you spot god, lemme know. ’Til then, I’ll trust my PHDs.’

• Digg this
• Recommend on Facebook
• Share via MySpace
• Tweet this