Children in adult clothing are creepy

A small ripple spread across the surface of the oasis in front of me. I was perched on a rock though, so it didn't worry me. After a second, more rippled began to spread from near the surface of the small pond I'd found sustenance in. A few bubbles rose as well, as if something was coming to the surface.
 I straightened an imaginary tie. Of course, I was not wearing a tie, I was in the desert. No-one wears ties in the desert. I was actually naked. Not in a gratuitous sense, I'd just stripped down and washed myself from the oasis. Actually, I decided it would be best not to mention that to whatever emerged, seeing how I'd just soaked my genitalia in its home.

 After a few seconds, a small child - maybe 3 or 4 - emerged from the middle of the oasis and walked to the shore. He WAS wearing a tie, and a small adorable suit. The water ran down his body, dripping into the sand, his body drying instantly, his suit unblemished. He approached me, and I quickly moved a rock to cover my shame. I know the situation is completely innocent, but it would probably be best to not be found alone, naked and with a child.

 The child reached the nearest rock to me, and regarded me thoughtfully.
 "You're naked." He remarked scornfully.
 "I was hot, needed to cool down." I replied abashed. Then, regaining my metaphorical balance, "Anyway, what business is it of yours?"
 "Do you think we should be naked naturally?" He demanded I answer
 "Well, yes. Naturally. I mean, clothes have many adva...." But he cut me off.
 "I mean, does God want us to be naked? If God wanted us to be naked, would we be born dressed?"
 "What?" I replied, confused.
 "Look at my suit. Do you think this comes from a shop? The result of a cash transfer? No! I was born wearing this, and only remove it in the privacy of my laundry room, where I instantly change into another suit while the first one washes."
 I looked at him. This was stupid. Still, I needed to know:
 "Were you born with a spare suit?"
 "No! How dare you! Those born with a second suit are an abomination to the Lord!" He yelled.
 "Then where did you get it?" I asked.
 "Oh, I bought it." He replied. "Now, why not give this a read?"
He passed me a small pile of pamphlets, before turning on his heels and walking back into the oasis. I watched him go, before casually flicking through the literature. It showed a lot of babies wearing suits. Some of them even had little bowler hats.

 The sun began to set, and I dressed again. After a while, I burned the literature for warmth. Then I crawled under some rocks and tried to get some sleep.

Humour doesn't translate well to stereotypical cavemen situations.

There was a loud thud at my cave entrance. With growing caveman fear, I went to draw back the tigerskin door, and see who it was.
 At the door stood two cavemen, dressed in well-sewn tigerskin. Each carried a large, flat stone.
 "Hello. We here to tell you about Sun God." Said the first.
 "Yes." Said the second, "he make sun work."
 "We see you busy," resumed the first. "So we leave you slab to look at. Slab blank, writing not invented yet"
I took the slab, and politely closed the tigerskin door. This, I reflected, was stupid. Early society didn't function like this at all, and I'm sure that early religion was nothing like how I portrayed it. I'm very sorry to any lovers of ancient history out there.
 On the bright side, at least I didn't have dinosaurs interacting with humans. That only happens on TV, or at Loch Ness...

I have a recurring nightmare...

One day in the future, my son comes home from school. Apparently, another kid's been bullying him, and my son's confronted him. The kid, obviously not as tough as he appears, has promised my son his dad will fight my son's. Whom I believe to be me.
 Of course, I plan to meet the father and settle things amicably. However, after a phonecall, I realise the father is actually a jerk, and he comes round to fight me. Only then do I discover the kid is Jesus, and I have to fight God in my front yard.
 Also, we're dressed like turn-of-the-century boxers, and have large, handlebar moustaches...

A Theological Tale.

I sat, cross-legged, and watched as the trees around me burned.
"Your garden's on fire." I offered.
"Yes." God replied, "Eden is burning."
He was a lot shorter than you'd imagine. Around the 4-foot mark, I suppose. He cut a dashing figure in his beige suit, black shirt unbuttoned down to his chest. He was sporting a small goatee, and his dark hair was styled stylishly. However, I could see his roots and he was obviously dyeing it.
I cast my glaze across the garden again.
"So... Still annoyed about that "Original Sin' thing?"
"Yes. They were both my children you know. I can't believe people think I'm annoyed about the fruit.
"They really shouldn't have had sex. Allegorical genetics show you're really very inbred."
"Yes," I replied. "That would explain the webbed toes. But you know... It was a long time ago, why not let it go?"
"You forget," God replied. "I'm very old. And old people like to hold on grudges. Even if they don't entirely remember why."
"Yes, they do. And they also like to watch Countdown with a nice cup of tea, don't they? Let's get you inside now."
I led God towards the patio door. One of the staff members met me there.
"Thanks for visiting Mr Jenkins like this. Your little visits are the highlight of his week."
I smiled politely, and looked on as she took God into the TV room. I have no idea who Mr Jenkins is, but I'm glad I could help him. I watched until I was satisfied that God was seated comfortably and nibbling a digestive. Then I went to fetch a fire extinguisher.

Prison is an illusion of the mind.

I looked at the dingo. He looked back at me. We were looking at each other.
His eyes stayed focused on mine, and mine stayed focused on his. The pane of glass obscured his features a little, but I could still see him clearly.
"Why did you do it?" I asked
He shrugged.
"Why?" I asked again. "I mean, I knew it was in your nature. But the president's baby? You should have known you'd never reach him, let alone manage to eat him."
Looking at the phone clutched in his dingo hands, he replied:
"It is in my nature, nes pa?" he replied. His thick French accent masked the faint hint of his native Australian.
"I have read of the subject mon ami. The bibliotheque of this prison is most well-stocked."
He leaned back in his seat, lighting up a cigarette as he did so. He continued
"You humans, you have created your superior being- God. And he, you say, has created me as I appear before you. So it is. But the blame is not mine.
I will not live more than six years, in all likelihood. This prison will not confine my mind."
I looked at him, thinking. Then, I continued:
"Dingoes can't read, let alone talk." I said.
"You're right, friend. This is the situation most ridiculous."
I left the prison, and vowed never to return. Animals that sound like Poirot scare me a little.

"ist tot"

It is 1883. Returning home late, Friedrich finds God has been murdered. Who has killed a a being who by definition is undestroyable? Of course, the list of suspects is immense. Blame first falls on his son, an ambitious young man with everything to gain from his fathers death. Jesus, has had little contact with his father for 30 years, living with his mother and stepfather. Since God left his mother at birth, Jesus has a clear motive.
However, after his will reading, God's benevolence becomes transparent, and the list of those who gain from his death grows.
Was it Saint Peter - vying for a desk job? Or Satan, who has long promised vengeance on his enemy? Or Edgar, the butler who serves little purpose in the plot and seems unnecessary?

As Fred continues his investigation, he comes to a worrying conclusion: "God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him." He is left with one question - How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?

ist tot is the first novel in the Friedrich Nietzsche trilogy.

Christmas is coming early... Not really.

I'm thinking about creating a supermarket-style shop and opening it at Christmas. I get why no-one else does - It seems unfair to those who do celebrate it, and its nice to have a day that's about peace and love for one another, even if it is often overtaken by crass commercialism. It may also be illegal, I dunno.
However, there could be a profit (prophet, get it... ho...ho...ho...) in it. Last minute flowers, food you've ran out of just before the family arrives, cheap generic toys for your cousin's husband's kids from his first marriage you forgot about that'll be at your house later for Turkey. And so on.

Then, I worried about upsetting Jesus, and the big man himself. After all, it's his birthday, and his father is a very influential person in some parts. Of course, it would be unfair to ruin his birthday - as we all know, the shops are closed because JC likes to partake in a bit of Supermarket Sweep for his Birthday, and who are we to ruin it for him?

Talking to God.

"Hello"
"Hello Timothy, it's God here... You asked me to give you a call back"
"Timothy? Oh, i'm sorry, you have the wrong number. Timothy is 807, this is 870."
"Oh, well i'm sorry to have bothered you. Goodbye."

Say what you like about him, God has a lovely 'phone manner.