Thanking Goddess
by Albert Russo
Job’s wife complained
to him and cried her eyes out, wailing, burping
and farting ra-ta-ta-ta - yeah when you get so
hurt, you can’t control what comes out of
you:
“Don’t be such a … ra-ta-ta-ta
… coward! Look in what a state of poverty we
have fallen, and worse, all of our children are
dead, except one. You should curse Goddess for
all this evildoing … ra-ta-ta-ta … boom.”
And as if that wasn’t
enough, she peed all the way back home, a home
that had no more roof.
“Stop this blaspheming!
We must accept both the good and the bad Goddess
gives us. She is the Mistress of the Universe,
remember that.”
Instead of being rewarded
for these words, Job became ill, so ill that his
friends hardly recognized him, finding him at the
dump outside of the village; he was ashamed to
show himself in that state of purulence in front
of his apples and pears.
He started lamenting that
Goddess had cast such woe upon him, for he
assured them he had never sinned.
One after the other, his
friends blamed Job for doubting the actions of
Goddess and cursed the poor guy, adding that the
fact that he didn’t trust Her was the
greatest sin a man could commit. Job didn’t
appreciate their comments and said that he needed
to hear this from the mouth of Goddess Herself.
Why did he get hit in this manner, after losing
his whole family? He really felt wronged.
As he was thinking this, a
storm broke out in a tremendous din, yet, in
between the ear-splittinglightnings, he heard the
voice of Goddess.
“You think you’re
a know-all. What arrogance, what impudence! Who
built this earth, who brought the light and the
shadows, who created animals and humans, who put
the seeds in the ground for plants, flowers and
forests to grow, who divided earth and the oceans?
Where do you think the stars come from?
Put this in your mushed-up
scatterbrain, once and for all: I am the
Ordinator of the Universe - and don’t try
any word trick such a calling it the You-MeVerse,
pretending that we are equals. And don’t lie,
I read it in your mind. You’re a pip-squeak
and ought to behave, otherwise, I’ll turn
you into a mongroloid.
The storm had abated when
Job finally answered:
“Oh Goddess Almighty,
forgive me, I pray You forgive me, I shall be
your servant from now on and bless every moment
of life You accord me, for You are the sole Grand
Maestra of our you-ni-verse (see, I
took out the ‘me’). mea culpa, mea
massima culpa”.
He suddenly used Latin,
long before that language was born; because he
was so genuinely repentent he became some kind of
a diviner. But he continued to wail, falling on
his knees - wow he got badly scratched on account
of the thorns, but this time he didn’t dare
complain.
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