\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1962821-A-Go-To-Hell-Story
Item Icon
\"Reading Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: GC · Novella · Action/Adventure · #1962821
The story starts when God was a young boy.
A Go To Hell Story





Captain Wayne Thornton, USAF - retired



Extrapolated from “Breakfast with God”



978-1-300-82812-9

Related works by author

ISBN: 978-1-300-22697-0

ISBN-13: 978-1479391714

ISBN-10: 1479391719

ISBN: 978-1-300-05145-9

ISBN: 1- 4196-4824-1

(Lulu.com & Amazon.com)

Wayne Thornton, AKA Cyril Wayne Thornton and Uncle Wayne. Copyright (July 4, 2006) and (August 4, 2012) No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any manner, without written permission from the author. (United States Copyright Act)

[Adults only]



Chapter 1 – God Albright



Sprawled out on the living room floor, seven-year-old God Albright looked at pictures of his ancestors while his mother, Gamma, fixed breakfast.

While God ate breakfast, his father, Papagee, had a quick cup of coffee, kissed Gamma goodbye, and went to work at the science department of the Atomic Energy Commission annex on Little Para.

Gamma looked across the kitchen table and saw herself. Her son had a round face with freckles just like her -- blond hair, more toward white in color. Big blue eyes; just like me, she thought. Where are his father’s features? She smiled when she saw God’s large hands, large and strong like the hands of his father; Lamarckian inheritance from his ancestors who were farmers. No freckles on his hands, that’s a relief. My freckles, my marks; are they genetic scars, or are they beauty marks? she pondered, as she daydreamed about her son’s future.

She looked down at the scars she bore from the microbes that had once invaded her skin tissue, pock marks and blemishes on her hands and arms. Was it worth it? Of course it was, else I would have never met Papagee. We were infected together, almost died, and then came the rains. Is there an invisible protector some place in the universe?

God, usually in a happy-go-lucky mood, but this morning Gamma noticed his face, serious, with no smiles. He squinted his eyes and scratched his head.

“Do you want more orange juice?” she asked.

“When will I die?” God asked his mother.

Gamma looked at her son and saw his father again, always asking questions, searching for answers, and saying the unexpected.

"Son, the chances are long and strong that you and I will not die.”

While eating cereal, he glanced up at his mom, and in a calm manner he asked, "Why do we fear death?” He asked it in a relaxed tone of voice, similar to “Would you pass the butter?”

When Gamma heard the word death mentioned, she cringed and thought of her parents and one of her brothers who died before the people of her planet evolved. She said, "Fear has never been evolved out of our thought processes.”

Gamma watched her son eat his morning meal in a business-like manner. He will be a good worker someday, she felt. He will be a scientist like his father.



***

A few years later, while young God looked in the mirror and rubbed a raised spot above his left ear, he asked his mother, "Momma, how exactly does this computer chip work?"

“That chip is your guaranteed survival.”

Gamma had explained it to him a few years earlier, but knew of how mothers had to repeat things to children – over and over again in some cases.

"When you were born, you were scanned and given a memory chip. That chip records your every thought and action. If you are ever injured, the local hospital can use the knowledge in that chip to heal you. If you ever die from an accident, you can be rebuilt by a reconstruction technician."

God responded, “The chip records everything?”

Gamma smiled as she reflected on children keeping secrets from their parents.

“Momma, how is ‘eternal life’ different than ‘guaranteed survival?’”

“Guaranteed survival means that your body formula and all your thoughts in life have been recorded. And, you can be reconstructed if you temporarily die.

“Eternal life means that your body doesn’t age after you reach maturity, but you could die in an accident. We have eternal life and guaranteed survival.”

God pondered what she said, and then asked, “If I had to choose just one of them, which one should I choose?”

Gamma laughed because she had once asked the same question. “Guaranteed survival provides a copy of who you are. If you die in an accident, you can be reconstructed.

“The eternal life mutation stops us from aging after we reach maturity and gives us the extra bonus of perfect health. If you don’t mind being unhealthy sometimes, and if you don’t mind growing old, then choose guaranteed survival. However, we have both of them, and should appreciate that we do.”



***

A few years later, Gamma walked past God’s bedroom and heard him laugh while doing his computer homework. She thought to herself, I never enjoyed homework as a child. Has God discovered a new way of enjoying his schoolwork? She started to go into his room and ask him, but decided not to disturb him.

The more Gamma thought about it, the more curious she became. She flipped open her personal computer and hacked into what God laughed about in his room. God had downloaded a pornographic book from an ancient website on their planet, a novel written thousands of years earlier.

“God! What are you doing?” she said aloud from the front room, but he didn’t hear her, even though the walls were thin.

Gamma whispered to herself, “Should I make a big deal about God reading a pornographic story?” She decided to do a little research before she made her decision, plus she wanted to counsel with Papagee before she let God know that she had eavesdropped on him. Is it really eavesdropping on a child to look at his reading material? she pondered, and then downloaded the pornographic book, and started reading it on her laptop in the front room while God read it on the computer in his bedroom.

“The Manuscript” – by Jack Beckley

Chapter 1 – Eighty five words



"Bertha Boggins awakened by the trickle of sweat forming under her flabby, heaving breasts in the trailer bedroom, steamy with the smell of vomit and whiskey, and buzzing with the drone of the juicy black flies that carelessly landed where they would upon the sunburned folds of her 400 pound body, as it reclined nude upon the stained mattress on the floor, nestled amongst the empty cigarette cartons and bottles of beer, perspiring in the thick humidity."



"About eighty five words in one sentence!" exclaimed the editor, Bubba Swindle, at the Swank Publishing and Carpeting Company, located down the street from Jack's trailer park.

"How many dog turds on the front porch this time?" screamed the editor's wife from the back room of their mobile home.

"I didn’t say turds. I said words. The first sentence has eighty five words!" bellowed the fat gray-haired editor who drank warm beer from a Dixie cup.

[Gamma smiled at the misunderstanding between Bubba and his wife.]

"You have to do something about those dogs that visit us at night," screamed the tall slender country girl who had a patch over one eye.

"Eighty five words; not eighty five turds, you dumb shit," Bubba whispered, knowing his partially deaf wife wouldn’t hear him.

But now she wasn’t in the back room. She stood over him and handed him another warm beer.

[“He’s in trouble now, serves him right. I hope she catches him saying bad things about her behind her back,” Gamma noted.]

"Eighty five dog turds is a record, I’d say," proudly voiced the editor’s wife, Lucy Swindle, as she straightened-up her brassiere to no avail, because it had been too big when she bought it from the Salvation Army down the street.

[“Lucy needs a hearing aid,” Gamma said compassionately.]



Lucy didn’t like dog turds, but she did like the idea that they had set a new record of them on their front porch. Before she met Bubba, she had set many records down at the city swimming pool, taking full advantage of her long feet and twelve toes that gave her an extra kick during the turn-arounds.

At a carnival is where she and Bubba had met while he knocked down ducks at the shooting gallery. Lucy had gotten too close to the metal framework that held the conveyer of targets, while she tried to steal one of the big stuffed animals. A bullet ricocheted and blinded her in one eye. Then when she got fired at the chicken plant, Bubba rescued her and even married her, for the tax write off.



[“What a lovely way to meet each other,” Gamma whispered in a tone of sarcasm.]

***

“Hello. Is anyone home?” said the tall well groomed young City Inspector, after he knocked on the broken screen door of the editor’s mobile home.

“Hide the beer,” Bubba told Lucy, who had been eating stale potato chips off the coffee table and dipping them in the ashtray where someone had spilled catsup the night before.

[Gamma laughed, but then felt sorry for Lucy and Bubba.]



“Jim Crutchfield, from the city inspector’s office,” announced the short-haired athletic looking junior inspector.

“Did you come here about the dog turds?’ Lucy asked him, as she straightened up the front room of her husband’s office.

[“Poor Lucy. She can’t get her mind off the dog turds,” Gamma remarked.]

[Gamma heard God laugh in his bedroom. I wonder what page he’s reading? she asked herself.]

***

While his wife and the inspector chatted about the dog turds, Bubba thumbed through the manuscript that had been leaned against his front door that morning.



"Bertha remembered, as if in a fever, the man whose scent still clung heavily to her, the man she had lured into the lustful trap of her bedroom the night before. She had spotted him in the bar, about 63, greasy comb-over clinging limply to his moist pate. She remembered him struggling to lift his shirt off of his distended belly, remembered the cast-aside yellowed pair of briefs, clinging in crumples to the still-fresh skid marks that decorated them."



[“Egad!” said Gamma. “This would be pornography even if not about sex.”]

***

"What do you think, Bubba?” Lucy asked in regards to whether or not to sign the complaint about the dog owners in the neighborhood.

Bubba looked up from reading the Jack Beckley novel, and said, "Sure, just do anything he wants you to do."

Back to reading, he squirmed in his broken down Lazy Boy recliner sofa, which sank to the floor because of its broken springs. Bubba passed gas and then sprawled-out to a more relaxed position and rested one leg on the edge of the shaky coffee table where his wife signed the papers for the inspector.

[Gamma felt sorry for them because they lived such a squalid life style.]



Lucy signed the papers with her right hand as she placed her left hand ever so gently on Mr. Crutchfield’s knee, and then slid it upward along his muscular thigh. She knew not to face him, lest he be turned-off by the black patch over her eye. She had beautiful blonde hair and she felt if he would just stare at her hair, or better yet, close his eyes, she would have him excited enough for her next move.



[“Should I prevent God from reading the rest of the story?” Gamma asked herself.]



“Bubba, I’m going to ask Mr. Crutchfield to open that stuck window in our bedroom, okay?”

Bubba didn’t look up. He just said, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” His face turned red and his fingers trembled when he turned to the next page of the manuscript.

[“Bubba should have fixed that window in the bedroom,” Gamma said suspiciously.]

***

When they got to the bedroom, Lucy said, “Just close your eyes, and lean back on the bed.”

[No way is a nice young man like Mr. Crutchfield going to lay on her bed, Gamma thought.]



With his eyes clenched shut, Mr. Crutchfield laid back on the bed and allowed Lucy to unbuckle his belt and remove his pants and underwear.



[Gamma heard God yell, “Wow!” She figured he read the same words that she read.]



Lucy whispered, “If you want me to keep doing this, say, ‘please continue.’”

[“Please continue!” Gamma heard God yell from his bedroom. She laughed about God being so involved in the story. Then she wondered again if she should prevent him from being exposed to such adult reading.]

“Keep your eyes closed and I’ll entertain you,” Lucy said.

[Gamma decided that she should not censor the reading material of a fourteen-year -old child. She also decided that she would never tell another living soul that she eavesdropped on her son.]

***

The events of that day would affect parts of God's personality and sense of humor for the rest of his life. A sense of trust between God and his mother was also established. He later surmised that she knew what he did that day, but she never told anyone about it.





















God would later go to college, become a scientist, and marry Natalie Newhouse, a famous scientist in Heaven. With her support, he volunteered for the Earth Mission. After many years of research, God visits Planet Earth.

© Copyright 2013 WayneThornton (waynethornton at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1962821-A-Go-To-Hell-Story