The Second Coming

Note to readers: Be sure to read my previous blog, “My Little Chat With the Big Guy” before reading this one.

“Yo, Norm!” the now familiar voice called out. Startled awake, I glanced at the clock. It read 3 am, and, as before, the dresser was burning yet it was not consumed and no alarms sounded.

“Uh-oh. Him again,” I thought, “I know He’s busy, but why can’t He schedule a visit during the daytime like a normal person?” On the other hand psych patients aren’t normal, and He’s not a person. Half the reason I went into psychiatry was that, contrary to common wisdom, off hours calls are not usually so frequent, but clearly this guy’s a night owl and a VIP patient to boot. Welcome to concierge psychiatry.

I rubbed my eyes and, hiding my annoyance, mustered up in my most sincere voice, “Good seeing You again. To what do I owe the privilege this time?”

“That last session helped so much, I figured you deserve some followup.”

I thought to myself why didn’t He just enclose a thank you note with the payment for the first session that He didn’t bother to remit? But I said, “Glad it did, but exactly how so?”

“Well, as you suggested I stuck with my non-intervention policy, let things play out on their own, and look how great they are going.

“Great?” I said, using the tried and true shrink device of reflecting their own words back on the patient to get them to elaborate (while thinking, “Seriously? You must be nuts calling the situation we’re in great.)

“Yes,” saith the Lord, “just swimmingly. Now Trump is a shoo-in. Democracy will cease and the world will be plunged into chaos. The human race will self-destruct, no fault of Mine, and the other species will survive or at least evolve, as the planet cools. Just as you predicted.

“Can you believe that Trump luck?” the Big Guy went on, “That bullet just missed. I could have nudged it over a half inch, but thanks to your advice, I didn’t. Trump and company will now say I saved him and he’s my anointed, all without me doing a thing. Sweet! Biden is helping it along by staying in the race, the fool, after that miserable debate performance, and having said, with the worst possible timing, Trump should be ‘in the bullseye.’ Now, of course, they will claim it’s all on him for fomenting violence. After all those years of Trump with his ‘blood bath’ talk. How the MAGA crowd and their leader can turn truth on its head is a wonder to behold.”

“So You’re happy we’re toast,” I observed, even the good old USA? ” Clearly all those ‘God bless Americas’ went over like lead balloons. “What do You have against us, anyhow?”

“What a dumb question. Coming from you of all people. Why don’t I bless you? I wouldn’t even bless you if you sneezed. I don’t ‘bless’ any country or anyone, remember? Even if I did, do you really think you deserve being blessed more than any other country? As you say over and over, yours is one of the most hypocritical nations on Earth. With all the high flung ideals you preach, what do you practice? Greed, oligarchy, institutionalized prejudice, false pride, rampant inequality and injustice, whitewashed history, self-imposed ignorance, violence, corruption even in the highest court, phony baloney self-pious patriotism and pseudo-religion. The very fact that there are enough Americans supporting a criminal sociopath to get him elected as their representative to the world says it all about the true character of your citizenry, don’t you think? At least the evil countries don’t pretend to be so good and pure and selfless. If you think this America deserves My blessing that’s just another strike against you.”

I thought back on when I’d had the chance to advise Him to smite Trump. Professional ethics had tripped me up. A wave of remorse flooded over me.

“I was the one person who could have saved Mankind,” I blurted out, “I blew it.”

“Look who’s crying now,” the Big Guy said. Did I detect a sneer in His voice? “Maybe the shrink needs a shrink,” He chortled.

What I needed was a good stiff drink.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” He snapped, “I probably would have done the same anyway just as I have been doing for millennia. Nothing, nada, nichts, rien, niente, bubkes. As I said, I learned it’s best not to meddle. Just needed a reminder. You know that as well as anyone. You made it clear in A. Lester Lord’s “True Word.” Go back and read what Lester said in your little novel.” His tone softened, “Don’t blame yourself. You had the best of intentions, but you know which road is paved with good intentions. Look, all I’m saying is you did save Me a lot of trouble, so I’m grateful.”

I suppose that should have sufficed, but I was tempted to say He apparently wasn’t grateful enough to have paid His bill. The one He’d asked me to send. On the other hand I’d had no idea where to address it to so I gave it to an evangelical minister friend to attach to his daily prayers. The lack of response was just one more piece of proof prayers go unanswered. But I wisely restrained myself from bringing up money. After all, I’m still breathing. Maybe that’s His form of compensation.

“Okay,” I said, I’ll take that as a kind of solace, but Lord?” I pleaded…

“Yes?”

“…if it’s not too much to ask, can we schedule your next visit for the daytime?”

The Big Guy’s chuckle faded out along with the fiery glow as, once again, shrouded in darkness, I shuddered in dread of what was to come.