The BEAST Deity Roundtable

BEAST: Thanks so much for meeting with me…Say, where’s Allah?

Yahweh: He’s parking the car. He gets very tense—He can’t parallel with anyone watching.

God: He’s not exactly dextrous…

Yahweh: Ha, what an understatement! He’s a schlemiel, hopeless…

God: You should have seen him when that Segway came out—

Yahweh: He rode that farcockteh thing right into His pool…

God: He almost broke His neck…

Yahweh: Anyway, He’s got a temper—

God: Yeah and I have to say, I’m totally a backseat driver.

BEAST: Well, I imagine it’s tough for all of you to—

God: Oh, of course, We’re so used to commanding people. Arms up!

BEAST: (Arms fly up involuntarily.)

Yahweh: (Laughing)

God: (Laughing) I’m sorry.

Yahweh: (Still chuckling) No, He’s not. He’s always pulling that gag. He did it to a traffic cop on the way over here—there was a six-car pileup. Three fatalities.

God: (Shrugs shoulders, grins impishly) But the look on that cop’s face…

Yahweh: Really. (Chuckles again.) It was classic. A real badkhin, this goy.

BEAST: I thought you…But, so you don’t believe in free will?

God: (Stifling laughter.) No. Well, that’s, uh, sometimes…

Allah: (Walks in. He looks around at all our faces.) What’s going on? Were you talking about me?

Yahweh: Oy, gevalt. Sit, already. You’re holding us up—We’ve still got to do an appearance at Barnes & Noble—

Allah: Oh, brother. Those people, with their questions…And how many times do I have to tell these kids: I’m not Santa. It’s a bookstore, it’s not even Christmas…The little idiots.

Yahweh: Would You shut up! I’m not missing another tip-off.

God: Christ, You and the Knicks.

Allah: They stink. Thomas, he traded Nazr Mohammed…

Yahweh: What, they should keep him? Just because he’s Muslim?

Allah: You’re one to talk about sports…

Yahweh: You’re right, though, these goyish children, they can’t wait to hop on a lap. No wonder these priests are having problems.

God: You hypocrite! I never told anyone to suck a putz after circumcision.

Yahweh: Well, I’m not eating these tickets.

God: How much would you take?

Yahweh: From you? For the pair? A grand, even.

God: What? That’s more than you paid, you dirty—(Looks at me.) Heh.

Yahweh: Go on, say it. Say what you were going to say! A metzyea I offered you. A shvarts yor, you gonif.

God: What did you say? What did you just say to me? You know I don’t know Spanish—

BEAST: How ‘bout we get into this? How are your love lives? Are you seeing anyone?

Allah: No, not me.

God: I—forget it…

Yahweh: I think it’s obvious we don’t know the first thing about chicks. At least with, with something like, like these stem cells—

God: Here We go. You’re a real antagonist, You know that?

Yahweh: At least you’ve got research. Eve, I just threw that together. I was worried about Adam—the way he was eyeing the sheep, their wool was falling out in clumps. So I just, you know, I did something quick. I still don’t think the world has caught up with it.

Allah: I hate women. I just hate them. I—I really do. I mean it.

Yahweh and God: (Laughing.)

God: No kidding?

Yahweh: (Lighting a cigar.) Yes, really We’re stunned.

BEAST: Um, I don’t think You can smoke in here…

Allah and God: (Shading Their eyes, shaking Their heads and motioning furtively.)

Yahweh: Excuse me? What was that, boychick? You know, I invented agony. Not just pain. Agony.

BEAST: Forget it, really, it’s a…silly…law…

Allah: Ahem. (Nods at all of us in turn.)

Yahweh and God: What?

God: Oh, Jesus. The feet thing? You know it hurts my back to sit like that.

Yahweh: So help Me, I can’t kneel—I’ve got pins.

Allah: So help all of Us, I’ll walk right out of here.

Yahweh: Can I just cover My feet with My hands?

Allah: That’s repugnant!

God: I vote We leave Him behind next time.

BEAST: What if we just get some blankets? Would that be all right?

Allah: Gee, I’m not—I’m not sure, off the top of my head, if that’s okay.

Yahweh and God: (Giggling. Trying to restrain Themselves.)

Allah: Does anyone have a copy of the Koran?

Yahweh and God: (Burst into laughter.)

God: Oh, yeah, sure!

Yahweh: I’d rather carry scorpions in my pocket! What a bummer that book is.

Allah: You should talk! Forty years in that little desert—that beachfront. And you, a resurrection! You’ve both got nerve. James Frey’s got nothing on You two! The embroidering, the whoppers You’ve told!

BEAST: Any major regrets?

Yahweh and God: Women! (Looking at each other, laughing and exchanging high fives.)

Allah: The burka. I mean, really, what was I thinking? There’s nothing to look at. I’ve had to get DirecTV. Oops, oh boy—can we edit that out? I don’t want Mohammed to find out about the dish; he comes over and eats everything. He doesn’t even clean up.

Yahweh: Seriously? Leviticus—it’s been nothing but headaches. I told Moses, write it down, write it down. “All up here,” he says to me. (Pointing at head, rolls eyes.) A chochem, Moses—a real genius. Those sideburns make us look like fags. Ah, We’re stuck with them.

God: The Red Sox—I’ll never forgive Myself for 2004. I thought their fans were obnoxious before…Oh, and definitely that whole Gregorian chant fad.

Yahweh: Oy, don’t get me started on the music business. What a toomel, a real racket. Miri Ben-Ari, she’s a sweet kid, but hip-hop violin? I should never listen to Lyor Cohen. Music, it’s all schmutz. Dirt.

Allah: That’s why I won’t even allow it—at least, I’m pretty sure I don’t. Nothing but trouble. I think there’s too much amateurish caterwauling as it is. Would it kill these muezzin to take a lesson? Hmm, that’s a good question. Maybe it would…I’ll have to check on that, too.

Yahweh: You’re telling me! I left the Wailing Wall up. I can’t remember the last nap I had. I should have to suffer like this?

God: There’s not nearly enough shame in the world…

BEAST: That’s it? That’s what You regret? Chanting? Sideburns? The Red Sox? What about creating extremists, people who’ve hijacked Your faith? Bin Laden, Robertson, Bush, Zionists?

God: What the hell are you talking about?

Yahweh: (Under his breath) Hijacking’s really more of an Arab thing…

Allah: I’m not apologizing for Osama.

Yahweh: Those people are our bread and butter.

God: I’ll tell you who the nuts are: all those people going to mass, praying constantly, their noses buried in scripture. They’re worse than Star Trek fans, with their niggling, their incessant inquiries. “Matthew said this, but Mark says this.” They’re why I got out of publishing.

Allah: I think We all knew what We were getting into when We entered the worship game. This is a numbers business.

Yahweh: If the news were just full of seething masochists kneeling in some hot, windowless room—who would sign up for that?

Allah: I don’t even want to think about.

God: There’s too many of them as it is.

Allah: They give me the creeps.

God: To be honest, I thought crack would take care of all this.

Yahweh: And those Magic Eye books. We’ve tried everything. But they’re relentless.

God: I’ll tell you what we need: another crusade.

Allah: Now, you’re talking.

BEAST: So, is that what you’re planning for the future?

God: No, (sighs) probably not. It’s a ton of work.

Allah: There isn’t the ardor right now. But, it’s definitely something we’re looking at, long term.

BEAST: Well, what are you working on?

Yahweh: Mostly killing innocent people. I don’t like to give away too much, but…the West Bank is really going to be something if I have anything to say about it. Which I do, of course.

Allah: Killing people, yes. Innocent people. Also, making life harder for women, hopefully. They can’t suffer enough, as far as I’m concerned.

God: Sure, killing innocent people. The poor, mostly. I’m looking into diseases, too, right now. Maybe a new AIDS. It’s still in R&D. It’s nice being able to share more of the Africa burden with Allah—war and famine gets old fast. Well, not too fast.

Allah: Maybe I’ll get a moped. Those are back in, right?

God: Well, you’d better wear your Medic Alert bracelet. I can’t watch you all the time.

Allah: We’ve toyed with the idea of gradually moving toward, you know, phasing out pain and death.

Yahweh: It’s just not workable.

Allah: There’s no growth there.

Yahweh: How could We explain that to the shareholders?

BEAST: The what?

God: Christ, look at the time. We’ve gotta go.

Yahweh: We don’t want to miss the croissants.

Allah: (Sipping his cup of coffee.) What the—blaaahhhh!. (Spits it out.) What is this, Irish coffee? Which one of you did this?

Yahweh and God: (Doubled over laughing, slapping each Other’s arms).

Allah: You know I can’t have any booze. One sip and I’m shickered—great, I’m speaking Yiddish now. That’s it, well, I can’t drive.

God: Thank Me for that!

Yahweh and God: (Doubled over laughing again.)

Allah: I call shotgun!

Yahweh: Don’t you mean Kalashnikov?

God: (Laughing in tears) Stop, I’m gonna plotz!