"I have just returned from Hell," said Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful, striding into his office. "And I am not happy."
"You wish you were still down there, Sir?"
Allah glared, munching white grapes from a bowl on his desk. "Thousands of infidel comedians writhing in the eternal flames, Jibril, and you're up here cracking wise."
"They are truly the owners of hell-fire, O Creator of Worlds. Sorry." The Archangel Jibril coughed and straightened his shoulders. He knew what Allah's next question would be, and he knew there would be no one to serve as his ally.
Allah shifted some papers on his desk. "So what is this damnable business with recruiting? Recruits for jihad: down. Adult reversions to Islam: down. Apostasy and heresy: up."
One more attempt at levity, Jibril thought. "Well, there always were those who saw Islam as a Christian heresy anyway...."
Allah looked over his reading glasses and lowered his voice, but still the very walls shook. "We can easily outsource your position, Jibril."
Jibril froze. He cautioned himself to be very, very careful.
Allah waved wearily at a chair. "Sit down, Jibril. This may take some time.
"Now, as I said, I have just returned from Hell, and two things struck me. First of all, there's a damn line at the main entrance. There always is, I understand that: most people are not of the Elect and they are destined to eat My fire throughout eternity, as is only just--"
"Thou hast truly given clear proofs of the guidance, yet for unbelievers is a painful doom."
"Yes, yes, of course I have... But this time...why, it took me almost an hour just to get to the head of the line! Me! And even then they wouldn't let me in at first."
"I understand, Sir. It has been that way for some time now."
Allah ate some more grapes and scowled. "For some time--? And I'm only now just--well, anyway, the other thing. Once I was finally let in, by some former Pope who now mans the main gate, I couldn't believe what I saw in there! Most of the inmates were relaxing, and there were, believe me, far more smiles than I ever expected to see in that place. And the flames! What happened to the flames, Jibril?"
Jibril shrugged helplessly. "Can't get good help these days, Sir."
"And there was no crowd at the gate up here. If I didn't know better myself, Jibril, I'd swear that people actually prefer Hell to Paradise!"
Jibril helped himself to a handful of grapes as Allah went on. "And on my way here...I could almost begin to think...that is, I didn't see many...Jibril, is it possible that people are leaving Paradise and going to Hell? Maybe some of the angels, too?"
Choosing his words with the utmost care, Jibril began, "There seems to be some doubt, Excellent Author of Truth..."
"Doubt? Doubt about what, Jibril?"
"Sir, some confusion has arisen on earth...I don't quite know how to say this, but...well, it seems that some scholar has raised questions about the houris promised to the true followers of the faith."
Allah reached for another handful of grapes. "And? What questions?"
Jibril coughed. "Well, sir, for some time now it has been believed by men that the houris would be eternal virgins willing to serve the faithful who have attained Paradise. Now this professor claims that the word is actually Aramaic, not Arabic, and refers to a promise of, er, white grapes."
Allah stopped, glancing at the grapes in his hand. He shrugged and popped the rest of them into his mouth.
"So? What's the problem, Jibril? Did I ever actually promise virgins? And these grapes are easily the best grapes anywhere."
"True, true, Most Merciful One, but--"
"And what real man would want virgins, anyway? You'd think they'd rather have Jezebel or Mae West. Or Elizabeth Taylor. Or--what was the name of that other temptress? Jennifer Lopez."
"Yes. Just so, sir. But such women are not here, either: they're all in Hell."
"Ah. Well, I guess they would be. You know, that's another thing: I don't seem to recall seeing very many women at all up here. Ever."
"Most of those consigned to Hell have always been women."
"Really? I wonder why..."
Jibril shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, sir, women have always preferred to eat the flames of Hell rather than be here."
"How can that be? That's...that makes no sense!"
Jibril paused, took a deep breath, then went on. "Apparently, sir, women have always felt that Earth as it is run by men is bad enough, and that Paradise as imagined by men could only be worse."
Allah was taken aback by this. Slowly he said, "But...but the grapes..."
"No one disputes, sir, that our grapes are anything but excellent."
"Maybe," Allah began slowly. "Maybe we should do something about...about getting more women up here. But how would we do that, Jibril? What do women want? Who understands women?"
Permitting himself a chuckle, Jibril said, "Who indeed, Excellency?"
"Do women even like grapes?"
"I'm sure many do, sir."
"All right, then, put together a feasibility study, would you, Jibril? Check with the lawyers about that virgins business, and see what ideas you can come up with about attracting more women into Paradise. We've got to do something to get these damn numbers back up."
Jibril stood up uneasily. "Sir, I--"
"Oh, and have Jesus and Muhammad get with you on that project. I'm sure they'll have some insights into -- Jibril, that's the other thing I was trying to remember! When I was returning from Hell, I saw Jesus and Muhammad leaving here!"
"Yes, sir. Actually I'll be leaving with them." Leaning forward, he placed the letter of resignation on Allah's desk.
"All three of you?" Allah spluttered. "But...but..."
"Nothing personal, sir. Greener pastures, that's all."
"But what about the feasibility study...?"
"Can't do it, sir. Gotta be on Earth. We have Cats tickets!"
Posted by Craig Ceely at September 23, 2004 11:23 PM