The great Ifat considered his dwelling and deemed it boring.
Ifat scraped the mud from his shoes and thus made land.
The great Ifat spat and thus made the seas.
Finally, the great Ifat made all manners of creatures from the dust beneath his bed.
From the dust he made gnats and fishes and men and many more besides.
Then the mother of the great Ifat beheld it and decreed, saying thus:
“What a mess,” and taking it, cast it into the Vast,
Thus, preventing the creation of intelligent life.
The mother of the great Ifat’s ring admired the new world, as it were, deformed from its flight,
And leaving the mother of the great Ifat’s finger, followed it, circling it, providing light.
And man, Ifat’s last creation, heard and understood the mother’s words, and learned speech,
Thus, becoming the wisest of the great Ifat’s creatures.
Thus, the Semifac, though rough was its handling, was thus made.
And the great Ifat looked upon the Vast and said,
“Drat, now I have to start over.”
Book I chapter I vs I-I5 of the Chronicles of the Semifac’s Making and the History Thereafter
Rabbi Rob dropped the massive book on the table with a sacred thunk.
“I wrote that, I did.” He grinned smugly with the air of a man with a job well done. His audience regarded him with a suspicious air.
“I’mn’t too good wi’ stories wi’oot pictures,” a voice grumbled from the back. The bartender rubbed his glistening hairless brow and went for the tip,
“Ver’ good, ver’ good. The plot confused me a wee bit, but that’s jes’ since I’m such an uneducated man… ver’ creative.”
“A good read for a quiet evenin’ and such like, you’s good at imaginin’ stuff,” another man mumbled into his pint. Rabbi Rob drew himself up to his insignificant but full height,
“For your information, I dint make it up.” He sniffed. “I was inspired.” There was a collective sigh from the group. Religion.
“I did that once. Bin inspired, don’ want to make a habit of it,” a farmer picked his nose good naturedly. Rabbi Rob tapped his knuckles with all the force his righteous wrath could muster against the book cover.
“It’s not a story! It’s truth! It’s how we got here!”
“I took the cart here, if it makes any difference…”
“It doesn’t!” Rabbi Rob snapped, “this is how the world were made!” the drinkers eyed each other dubiously,
“Well,” the farmer scratched his head, “the way I see it, that could make sense, our world being all scushed and all, and us having to send our water through all those modern gizmos and stuff or boil it afore drinking it. But I’m jes’ a wee bit hurt by your implying we ain’t intell’gent. I find that irksome.”
“Jonah Waters,” Rabbi Rob did his best to appear condescending, “Can you read?”
“Ah hm…” there as a general mumblings and then multiple conversations broke out concerning the truth of the matter. Mostly they addressed how it was quite unsanitary for the oceans to be a god’s spit and how it was really mean to say they weren’t intelligent. In the end, they put it up to vote.
The ‘aye’s won.
“So, Rabbi Rob,” Jonah Waters hooked his thumbs in his suspenders, “we decided to believe your book. You got yourself a room full o’ converts.”
“Are you all total idiots?” it was a day of embracing novel ideas, but this was a bit too novel for comfort, a barmaid entered the discussion, and it wasn’t even the cute one.
Everyone liked Psema up to the point when she started talking. She could milk a cow, could clean a privy, could churn butter, and could brew some dang good beer. But she wore far more clothes than was expected of a young lady in her line of business and had an opinion. No one likes an opinion served along with the drinks.
She could go so long without talking, it made her parents proud, yet here she was again, hands on her hips, fuming at the thought that other people are always so inconveniently incorrect.
“No?” guessed one man. She glared at him.
“It took you five minutes. Five minutes! To embrace a completely new theology without any proof! The third time this week even! Why?” the men were lost for words, she had so many. Most of them didn’t know what ‘theology’ meant.
“Because it is Truth, and the Truth resonates in the soul!” Rabbi Rob had the answer, his new followers were relieved. Psema remained unconvinced.
“What about the sun? It can’t be a ring! It’s a full circle!”
“Well, have you seen what shape the sun is?” Rabbi Rob cocked his pious head,
“I mean, have you had a nice sit, and really looked at it?”
“Of course not! It’s too bright!” Psema fumed.
“See?” Rabbi Rob gestured at her, and turned to the men, “You can’t tell what the real shape is because it’s so bright.” The men all nodded,
“Ver’ sage,” one voice commented. Psema ran her hands through her hair in hopeless despair.
“Men are so stupid,” she sighed,
“That’s hurtful,” Jonah Waters narrowed his eyes.
“Let me tell you something, Jonah Waters,” Psema shook a thick finger menacingly, “I…”
“Psema!” the bartender grabbed her arm, “Go take a walk, clear your head or something, Marylin will take her shift.” The men all nodded approval. The cute one. The one who didn’t make their heads hurt. Psema stormed out.
About the author
”Some days I feel like playing it smooth and some days I feel like playing it like a waffle iron.” -Raymond Chandler
Bits of fantasy and poetry and whatnot here, comedic comics on Instagram @mostlymecomics