God's Letter From Camp

Posted by Pinhole at 8/24/2007 11:53 AM
Categories: Family, Humor, Blogging


Until His older sister, Nadine, discovered several mysterious bundles in a box of His belongings after a major east coast newspaper ran His obituary near the middle of the last century, it was presumed that the lion’s share of God’s communications had taken the form of simple dictation and cryptic corporeal transmissions.

Of course, nowadays, we prefer our instructions in print.  Let’s face it, if one of us happened to be walking down the street, minding our own business- wondering what to have for dinner that night or should we get the hamster fixed- when the neighbor’s forsythia suddenly burst into flames, we wouldn’t know whether to sacrifice another goat, or if little Billy had got hold of a Zippo® and a can of his sister’s hairspray, again.  But, apparently, a mere few thousand years ago almost everyone spoke fluent cryptic.  Common exchanges by housewives over the back fence frequently involved their spouse’s encounters with the paranormal:


“Yeah, Noah’s been busy working on some kind of ark ever since he spotted that mud turtle on the mail route Thursday.”

“I know what you mean.  The other night at dinner Abraham decided he needed to kill our son because the peas were lined up funny on his knife.  Luckily, a three-legged rabbit hobbled by at the last minute and he took this as a sign to give the boy one more chance.  Saved by a hare…Ha Ha Ha.”

“What do you suppose they drink at those Wednesday night Club meetings, anyway?”


Known to His friends and family simply as “Raleigh”, it seems odd that God makes no mention of these strange occurrences in His correspondence.  Perhaps He didn’t place the same importance on these events as other authors; from His perspective such episodes may seem trivial.

At any rate, these bits of written conversation with His family reveal a seldom seen, surprisingly pedestrian, side of a generally regarded “larger than life” figure.  Any inconsistencies or contradictions are due to the fact that the originals were written in “Metaphysical Transcendentalese”, a language so aloof in its nature it can only be interpreted by a cat.  Martha Stewart being still traumatized and somewhat indisposed, I was forced to rely on Gwendolyn, my resident feline.

Unfortunately, only 1 letter survived Gwendolyn’s scrutiny.  It follows in its entirety.


Letter #1


Dear Mom and Dad,

It was really dark when I first got here, and my group was the first to arrive.  It rained before I had a chance to set up my tent.  Tell Dad that stuff isn’t funny.

I’m sorry about the hollering as I boarded the bus for camp; and the noise and screaming as it pulled away.  Have Dad and Nadine stopped celebrating, yet?

Speaking of Nadine, tell her to keep her grubby paws off my cosmoquarium.  You know what happened last time.  She barely touched it and several whole species just vanished!  She was lucky it was on one of the more insignificant planets.  The last thing I need is for any of the remaining creatures to acquire awareness, or some other useless characteristic.

The ride was pretty uneventful.  Everyone would have sung songs to pass the time, but no one brought a harmonica.  I made two new friends on the bus before we got to camp.  Thor talks funny and says he wants to be a meteorologist.  He’s in my tent and should be a good fellow to have on my side if some of the bigger guys start picking on me.  Hermes is kind of a goofball, but likable enough.  He’s assigned to the next tent over.

Hope all is well at home.  Don’t forget to feed Spot and I’ll write again soon.

Love,
Raleigh

P.S.:  Could you send some cotton balls, or something?  Thor makes noises in his sleep.


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