God has Cancer. God is HIV Positive. God spent most of last Thursday night in Church looking for answers, but all he got were more questions. Now he knows why I haven't been inside a Church for years, unless I'm in the basement stuffing non-religious books into non-religious envelopes.
"I'm sorry." God says. "I don't mean to bother you, but..." and he begins weeping again. It's a quiet series of not quite sobs. It is to crying what hiccups are to breathing fire.
I take my headphones off, so I can hear him better should he resume speaking. I am sure he will resume speaking. He's God.
"I'm sorry. I'll be right back." And God gets up to collect himself.
Maybe I'm still dizzy. Maybe this isn't God at all, but some homeless weirdo who will hit me up for money just before "our" bus shows up. I dip my head back into Running with Scissors for less than a minute when I hear, "I got you something to drink." And there is God again, and he hands me a Cherry Coke. Homeless, maybe. Definitely God.
"I was in Vietnam." he says. I know this, because according to most spiritual people, and many sensible religions, God is everywhere. This is how he can both be in the White House advising our noble pResident, George W. Bush on how to get rid of Social Security and queers at the very same time he can be sitting next to me almost sort of crying. "I died over there. But they brought me back. I didn't want to come back."
So God is Buffy Sommers after Buffy The Vampire Slayer was moved from the WB to UPN. I can almost hear him singing "I was in Heaven.....Heaven." But, you know, he's God, and some people believe there is God in everyone, so of course there's a little bit of God in Sarah Michelle Gellar. I try to imagine Xander, Willow, and Dawn standing around a grave, and this short, unshaven, vaguely ethnic looking person climbing out of the grave and handing them each a Cherry Coke. I am so deep in this vision, that I miss something about drugs and death.
"I've never done anything bad." He says. "Anything. I'm always good, but everything is just so hard." And only God could ever look me in the face and claim "I've never done anything bad." It's the whole infallibility thing.
I want to say something comforting about the possibilities of The Afterlife or Reincarnation, but I figure, he's just spent the whole day in a Church being harassed by religious people, he's probably heard all the crap people pull out of their Holy Schwag Bags. So I mumble something about "I'm sure there's some sort of plan."
And he just stares at me.
I look hopefully in the direction the bus should be coming for. I want to pray for it, but I don't think, given the situation, that it would do me much good. The bus will come when it comes.
"I go to Churches every day. Every day. And everyone listens to me like I'm important. But then they leave, and I'm so alone. And nothing is better."
I take a really long sip of Cherry Coke to keep from saying anything.
"I'm a regular guy." He says. And then, "Here's our bus." And here it is.
On the bus, I sit near the front, leaving an empty seat next to me, but hoping he won't sit in it. He doesn't. He puts on his headphone. God is listening to Eminem's "Lose Yourself". I put my own headphones on.
Back at the house, Dr. O. and Landlord are discussing putting a party together for our departing roommate. "McDonald's?" Landlord offers. I pray he's joking, and then he laughs. God is so close, he has no choice but to listen. It's like I'm in his head.