I wrote this as a sort of my way of imagining God and Heaven. I really don't think he's who I've been taught to believe he is. (I was raised an Orthodox Jew).
P.S Rafi is as in Raphael and Mike as in Michael the archangel. Just a little allusion. Not important but whatever.
Fanfiction
"Yo, Rafi," called Mike just as Rafi left the room. "I need your help."
Rafi stuck his head through the door. "Aw man." He whined, "I was just about to take a lunch break."
"This is really complex and important." Said Mike pleadingly. "It's matchmaking," he added.
Rafi's face lit up and he bounded back into the room. "Matchmaking!" He exclaimed eagerly. "Why didn't you say so? I love matchmaking!"
"I suppose you finished all your matchmaking work weeks ago then." Said Mike drily.
"Yep," said Rafi proudly, "no one in my cabinet ever goes single."
"Well, look." Said Mike spreading his files over his desk. "I've got twelve people here who I can't figure out. I have a hunch I lost some files."
Rafi clucked his tongue disdainfully as he wandered around the stall that was Mike's office. "Really, Mike." He rebuked him, "you ought to take better of your files. It could result in a World War, you know."
Mike snorted. "Over a marriage? Not likely."
"Whatever, I really don’t give." Said Rafi, rubbing his hands gleefully, "let's get to work."
An hour later they were finished. Finished, except for two files.
"I honestly don't know what to do with these two," said Mike, staring helplessly at the files before him. "They'd be a perfect match if they weren't both girls." He glanced up at Rafi who was rubbing his chin and muttering to himself. "They'd be a perfect match... .they'd be a perfect match." He repeated. "I know there's a solution somewhere in those sentences."
"Right," Said Mike, leaning back against his chair, "you let me know when you find one. The deadline to hand in all these couples files is tomorrow and God isn't going to be very pleased if I left some people single."
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Gabs still has fifty people left single." Said Delia, the fashion angel, floating into the room. She was sporting a long flowy black skirt and a shirt that looked like she was wearing three shirts.
"Hey, Del, what's up with that?" Asked Rafi, eyeing Delia's outfit apprehensively.
"Don't call me Del." Said Delia good naturedly, "and this," she twirled, "is going to be the new fashion on Earth in a couple months. What do you think?" She turned and faced Rafi and Mike.
"Frankly," said Mike "I think the skirt looks like something from the middle ages and as for the shirt, it's just bizarre."
Delia looked crestfallen.
"It's okay." Said Rafi in a voice that indicated that the outfit was not "okay" and in fact much much worse than "okay". "But why do you need to change the fashion downstairs? It looks fine to me."
Delia shrugged. "Yeah, I know," she said, "but God called me up for a conference last week and said that she/he'd been receiving way too many complaints from Earth saying that they didn't appreciate seeing certain um...ah." She cleared her throat, "things on twelve year old girls." She shrugged again. "If you ask me, those complainers are just a bunch of old perverts but I'm actually looking forward to designing a new fashion for the teens downstairs."
"Ah," Mike nodded, then bent his head over the files again, "Now if you don't mind, Rafi and I have a bit of a matchmaking issue on our hands that we'd like to solve."
"Oh, matchmaking!" Cried Delia delightedly. "You know I always wished that I was a... oh what's that word?" She asked Rafi.
"Everything angel." Replied Rafi.
"Everything Angel," repeated Delia, "that way I'd get to deal with all sorts of various fun stuff. Being a fashion angel can get dull." She sighed. "I wish I had a matchmaking job."
"Oh no you don't!" Said Mike looking up. "It's virtually impossible!"
"Well," said Delia, a smile spreading across her face, "maybe all you need is a woman's opinion."
"Be my guest."
Delia leant over Mike's shoulder and gazed at the two files.
"They'd be a perfect match if it weren't for..." Said Mike helplessly.
"If it weren't for what?" Asked Delia puzzled. "I see no problem."
Mike stared disbelievingly at her "they're both girls!" He exclaimed.
Delia folded her arms across her chest. "You know Mike," she said sternly, "I'm surprised at you. You've been up here for what? Three-hundred years? And you're still a homophobic."
"No, no, it's not that." Protested Mike, "Isn't it just that.." He faltered, "isn't God homophobic?"
Delia laughed, "well," she said, "why don't we find out?" Before anyone could stop her she had picked up the phone and dialed God's number.
"Yeah, hey, God?" She was saying, "we've got a problem down here with the matchmaking, would you mind coming down and helping us? That'd be great. Thanks." She hung up the phone.
"What?" She said, as she turned around and was greeted by two shocked stares.
"You-you-you just interrupted God!" Exclaimed Mike.
"Yeah, so?" Asked Delia coolly, "It's not like he, or she, was busy."
"How do you know?" Demanded Rafi. "He could be!"
"And if he is." Added Mike, "he's gonna be majorly pissed off at us."
"Yeah," Said Rafi, "he might even destroy us!"
Delia rolled her eyes. "First of all, how many times do I have to tell you that God is not a he God is a he/she, get that straight boys!"
The boys nodded.
"AND all that stuff about God being all wrathful is just a bunch of codswallop!" She shouted, spraying spittle all over the floor.
"Okay, geez." Said Mike, slowly inching away from her. "Now when's God getting here?"
"I'm here already." God entered the room gracefully, today he was wearing a long white beard and a blue robe.
"Hey God." Said Delia cheerfully, "what's up with that outfit?"
"God, please excuse Delia's impertinence and we're dreadfully sorry to disturb you, but I'm afraid we're in a major predicament." Said Mike quickly, before God could respond to Delia's question.
God chuckled. "Oh it's quite all right." His eyes twinkled. "I wasn't busy at all, simply having tea with Moses, Jesus and Mohammed."
"So that explains the outfit." Said Delia.
"Yes..." Said God slowly... "You know, Mohammed and Moses have really hit it off, I wonder if there's some hidden truth in that?" He stroked his beard thoughtfully for a couple minutes while the three angels stared at him.
"Don't worry." Delia whispered to the other two, "she/he's always like this, you guys should really get to know her/him better, she/he's a great guy, a bit loony, but great."
"Hey, I heard that!" Snapped God playfully, returning to earth-er.. heaven.
"Sorry." Said Delia, not meaning it.
"Oh it's quite all right." Said God, waving his hand, "so, what's the problem?"
"Well...." Began Delia,
"We've got an issue with matchmaking." Said Rafi.
"Go on." Said God.
"Basically we've gone through all the files in the cabinet except for two and they're both girls." Said Mike.
"Hmmm...." Said God to himself "are they compatible?"
"Well yes," said Mike, "but they're both girls."
"So?" Asked God, "your point?"
"Well... girls can't exactly marry each other." Said Mike.
"Why not?" God asked.
"Doesn't it say in the Bible or Torah Or Koran, whichever one is yours, that homosexuality is wrong?"
God laughed. "Mike, darling." He said, "I love you."
Mike looked bewildered.
"You are so naïve." Continued God, "you've been up here for three hundred years and you still don't know that I don't have a favorite of any of those novels?"
"Wh-what are you talking about?" Mike stammered.
God laughed again. "I love fanfiction." He said waving his hand around in the air. "Especially fanfiction about me, but, darling, I'm afraid it is simply fanfiction."
"You mean, none of that is true?" Mike asked, his eyes growing wide.
"Of course not.. well, actually the stories about Mohammed and Moses and Jesus existing are true and all, and maybe I helped them out every once in a while, but some of those laws they made up themselves. Why would I have a man or woman fall in love with someone of the same gender if it were a mortal sin?"
"I dunno," mutter Mike, "maybe to test them?"
"Nah," said God, "Even I'm not that cruel."
"So...." Said Rafi, picking up the files. "Should we run the files through the marriage machine?"
The marriage machine was the machine that made two people destined to marry each other.
"Go ahead," said God, floating to a mirror. "Hmm..." he said to himself, stroking his beard. "I think I'd like to be a female now." And within an instant he was female.
"Delia! Come Here," God called, examining herself in the mirror. "Tell me what you think of this dress."
"Baby blue definitely does not suit you." Said Delia, looking over God's shoulder.
"You're a poet and you know it." Mumbled Mike.
"Oh shut up." Said Delia, "I would try something red if I were you, it would look better against your skin." The last comment was aimed at God.
God immediately switched her dress. "This better?" She asked.
"Perfect," said Delia, beaming into the mirror.
"Well," Said God, "Ta-Ta, I'm off to continue my tea with the prophets," she waved and headed out the door.
"Thank you," Called Rafi and Mike Simultaneously after.
"You're welcome," God called back, "and, oh by the way, you guys can have the rest of the day off if you like."
"YES!" Shrieked Mike (joyously) once God was out of earshot. "Now, where shall we go?"
"Well.. there's this cool new restaurant in downtown heaven, the food's said to be wonderful, you wanna go?" Asked Delia
"You're on." Replied Mike grinning.