This is the fifth installment of a 100-day challenge to write a new vignette every morning.
It’s not possible to convince a monkey to give you a banana by promising it infinite bananas when they die.
That’s why I think “Heaven,” as a concept, doesn’t work. We’re all just complicated monkeys, and I want my damn banana now. Don’t you?
All these rules—not coveting, not having “strange gods.” What, we’re not supposed to want things? And where do we draw the “strange gods” line? We’re allowed one strange god but any more and suddenly it’s heresy?
Growing up, I knew this girl at bible camp who wouldn’t even say the word “god” for fear of taking his name in vain. We’d all be sitting around chatting, and whenever she needed to talk about god, she’d purse her lips, make a little humming sound, and point at the sky. Do you think that’s really what some all-powerful, all-knowing being cares about, Tiffany?
I tried to talk to our family priest about all this once, but he just pitied my crisis of faith and told me to pray on it. I took my Harley to the coast and stared at the ocean instead—or is that the same thing?
I believe in god, I think, but I think we’ve got him all wrong.
I guess I’ll see for myself soon enough. The sky is so blue that I’m almost distracted from all the red pooling around me. The contrast between the two is staggering. A couple people are trying to pull the Harley off of me, but they’re the desk-job type, and I just know they won’t be strong enough. They look worried, and I want to tell them it doesn’t hurt, but I can’t move my mouth. I hear birds, and I hear sirens.
I can’t keep my eyes open anymore, and I just wish I’d had one more banana.
Miles Away 