Okay, this is a really weird and strange little ficlet and I really have no clue where it actually came from or what it was doing in my notebook, but there it was. <grin> Phi, happy birthday, hon.
Really really not my characters.
In a Bar on L2
At the time, I didn't understand it. Why would He allow it? Such frail creatures, humans. Mortal. Created in the image of God, but imperfect nonetheless.
Someone later asked me if that meant maybe God was imperfect to begin with, y'know, flawed template and flawed copy. I didn't know the answer to his question then, and immediately found a way to distract him.
The truth is, I still don't know the answer to that disturbing question.
But I'm straying from my point. I still don't understand why He allows it.
You're looking at me funny, wondering what I'm talking about. I suppose that's fair enough. You probably don't see my type around here too often-a pretty young man, sitting in seedy bar and sipping tequila as he discusses the fall of man with whomever will listen.
Well. You probably see pretty boys in here often, if the looks I'm getting are any indication. Too bad. If I were looking for sex or a place to turn tricks, this place wouldn't be my top choice. After all, I know I look good enough to fetch top dollar in places way fancier than this... should I want to.
What was I saying? Oh, yeah. Himself and His obscure Plan. Obscure. Heh. That's one word for it. Maybe damned incomprehensible and impenetrable would be better. I mean, really, what's the point? Create a bunch of organisms with intelligence, curiosity, and free will, stick 'em in a garden with a tree they aren't supposed to touch, and then get all irate when the *do*? I'm telling you, man, none of us could figure out what He was thinking.
We still don't know, to be honest, and I'm *always* honest. The higher-ups all say that since *He's* the one running the show, it's obviously for the good. I don't buy that, though. Not anymore. Sure. Mortals are damned interesting, they're always finding new ways to kill each other or what have you-- believe me, I know, it's in my line of work--but what's the point? They're amusing, but only for a while.
Which is why I'm here, I guess. I've got a new mission, from the top guys. Infiltration, y'know? Get inside their heads, find out what makes 'em tick--What makes them what they are.
Would you *look* at the time. I'd love to stay and chat, guys, but there's someplace I've got to be... I think they call it Maxwell Church. The mission calls and all, y'know. I'll be seeing you.
That's a promise.
Didn't I tell you it was weird?