Chapter 8.1: Abraham and Isaac – Abe Asks For Help

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The newly renamed Abram found himself not terribly pleased with his new name, mainly because it was longer and it made writing checks a little more of a pain now. He was also the father of two children that he knew of, with the possibility of a few extra. The fact is that Abram had at least 27 bastard children, which is the number of his offspring that I was able to track down, but everyone I talked to said they had heard of two or three more that had moved away, making them impossible to find. My only purpose for doing this was because sometimes it pays to dig up a little dirt about the holy ones of old, it always felt good when you went to meet with them that with one simple sentence or sometimes just a word, you could spank these self important religiously titled people (usually men) in the brain and make them remember that they are and never will be any batter than anyone else. Honestly the only thing that makes the prophets in your bible different than you is the fact that you believe all the good stories they wrote about themselves. Besides, people have a tendency to embellish the good things they do in life and never talk about the bad things they’ve done.

It really wasn’t until the latter portion of the past millennium that people started catering to the notions that the evil things people did was often times much more interesting to read about than just the good things, case and point… the story of David. His story is full of all sorts of juicy bits of information about his failures as well as his accomplishments. It’s because it made for much more interesting reading and got people more interested in purchasing bible.

With all of this newly added responsibility, Abram did what anyone of the deity believing disposition would do, he passed off his situation to the all powerful claiming, “It’s what the Lord wanted.” Yep, Abram goes through a sexual awakening where he experiences a number of “one on one” spiritual discussions with a large population of fertile Egyptian women and in the end Abram ends up back in his home land telling everyone that god has chosen him to be His prophet, and the proof of this is that his name is now Abraham and not Abram. The only difference being that now instead of a vain wife that is put off by the idea of sex, he has a vain wife with stretch marks who is put off by the idea of having sex with him, because he was “that bastard that knocked her up.”

Sarah’s pregnancy was not the most pleasant of experiences for her. There were a lot of things that went along with pregnancy that no one had told her about, and, quite frankly, she was a little pissed about it. Of course you could not tell her it was hormones. The village doctor told her that once, and, let’s just say, he made sure he always wore a protective cup whenever he made house calls to Abraham’s home after that.

She did, however, promise to god, her family, and “that bastard that knocked her up,” that one pregnancy was enough for her. She even signed an affidavit that “that bastard that knocked her up,” aka Abraham, no mater what he was called, could spill his seed where ever he needed to propagate his lineage, just as long as it wasn’t her womb that did the work. The affidavit also stated that she did get dibs on “that bastard that knocked her up” on the nights that she was feeling frisky and wanted to “Hagar with her honey.” Yes, that’s what she chose to call it. I know it’s tacky, but what can you do, the slang for coitus had not evolved very far at that point and time in the world. And yes, she had learned all about birth control at the time that the affidavit was signed. And just between you and me, had there been a procedure to get her tubes tied at the time, she would have done it twice, just to be sure.

By the time I arrived to see how the years had treated Abraham and Sarah, Isaac was about 10, and let me just say, what a horrible monster of a child. He did have other siblings, but he was the oldest and only son of Sarah, which seemed to only add the kids professional snobbery and spoiled brat personality. My guess is that it was part ego and part genetics. I think this also had to do with the lack of discipline he received from his parents. The kid got it in his head very early on that his parents were important in the little microcosm he grew up in. From that he developed the attitude that he was important too.

Hey, do me a favor, if you happen to be a family that is personally blessed by your God, don’t tell your kids that. It only makes them arrogant little bastards. And to those of you that think or can trace your lineage back to Abram and Saria, and that you are special because of that, just remember that if you take the initials of your specially blessed ancestors they do make up 2/3’s of the word ass, and that’s all that needs to be said about that.

Having it expressed to Isaac, on a daily basis, that he was the result of a promise from god and he would be blessed forever became part of Isaac’s everyday embellishment on himself. Because of this, he thought everyone should follow and worship him. At first, he called his little game, “Playing God.” Then, as time progressed he called it, “Being Me.” When he was told to stop bossing the others around he would say, “I’m just being me.” He never did what he was told and would bad mouth everyone every chance he got, simply because they were not him. Abraham and Sarah called him their special challenge because of what happened in Egypt. Isaac was a reminder of that time, and why they should stay feverishly faithful to the Lord.

When I first arrived to visit Abe, there was a something a little different in his eyes, I think it was hopelessness. Instead of the usually banter I was expecting, he seemed genuinely happy to see me. I experienced the same reaction from Sarah. I was invited into the sitting room of Abraham’s home and there we sat, catching up and laughing about the old days. And then…in it came. It was my first time meeting Isaac, and based just on the feeling that entered the room with him, I hated that kid. No, not dislike, or annoyed by, or ambivalent to, I mean I hated that kid. And seeing how his parents responded when he said, “Mom, Dad, get me a new camel.” I knew there was a problem. When he actually entered the room and saw me the first thing he asked was, “What did you bring me?”

“Huh?”

“Huh. Duh. You’re not very blessed are you? You better have brought me something if you are going to be staying here, or I’ll make my parents throw you out. You look very common. It’s probably a very cheap gift.”

“This is Isaac?”

Both his parents shook their heads disappointingly.

“NOW! Where is it duh man?”

Abraham looked at me with apologetic eyes.

“Well…”

“You are a slow dumb man. Where is it or go and don’t come back until you have one.”

Now normally I’m better than this, but sometimes you just have to go with your first impulse, so I did. “It’s outside, behind my camel. It’s in a small box right behind the cam…” And he was gone. I started talking with Abe and Sarah again, “So…he’s quite a …”

“He has special needs.” Sarah attempted, not really sure why.

“Did you really get him something?” asked Abraham.

“Not really. Well I guess sort of. A lesson, I’m giving him a less…”

A scream pierced the dull mid morning air. Abraham and Sarah looked at each other and then me and jumped up. I just smiled. Then the scream became louder and louder, and into the room came Isaac, with a rather large smear of camel excremental release on the boys head. Abraham and Sarah tried not to laugh, and they were succeeding until Isaac yelled me, “You lied to me and liars go to hell.”

And I responded with, “Well, heaven is no place for shit heads, so I guess your out too.”

And that seemed to do it, Abe and Sarah fell down laughing. Isaac, shocked by their reaction grabbed some of the camel leftovers off his head, threw it at me, hitting my right shoulder and ran out of the room, knocking down everything that would fall over. Sarah ran after him, still giggling a bit, to get him cleaned up and Abe began picking things up and putting them back upright, commenting under his breath, “What a horrible child.”

“You know Abe, I’m usually inclined to disagree with you, but in this case, I’d have to say you nailed that one.”

“I am at my wits end; I don’t know what to do.”

“Are all of your kids that bad?” I asked.

“No, they are great, as far as kids go. But having all the little ones look up to him doesn’t help, and the fact he can command them to do what ever he asks them to, or commands them to. He gets them to revolt if we try to discipline him for misbehaving. He claims the Lord has blessed him and therefore the he does only the Lords will.”

“You tried talking to the old man about this?” I offered, “If I remember right, He’s not to keen on earthlings acting like him.”

“I’ve tried, for the past four years I’ve tried five to six times a day, but nothing. I mean we are well taken care of. We have plenty of rain for our crops and grain for our livestock. He just doesn’t seem to be in the mood for giving me instruction on raising ill behaved kids.”
And without even thinking I added, “Well, He does have a pretty poor batting average when it comes to that. It’s hard to give good advice about something you are personally a failure at.”
“What do you mean?”

I sighed, “Not a damn thing.”

Then the something happened. Something that I never really considered myself to be in a position to do. Abram asked me for help. “I know you might not be on the best of terms with the Lord right now…”

“Or ever.”

“…but I know the two of you know the same people…and I was wondering if you could possibly have one of your friends get a hold of Him and let him know of our situation. And possibly get Him to stop by so I can impart my pleas directly to Him. Could you? Please Roy, please.”

It was very important for Abraham not to fail at raising a family, especially because of his own upbringing. It was the one thing he promised he would not fail at. His greatest fear is that he would turn into the father his real father was, and he refused let that happen. The main reason Isaac was such a monster is that Abram gave the boy everything and requested nothing in return. The boy had never learned to respect his father. He only learned that his father would do anything to purchase the attention and love of his first born.

I’d never been in a position like that before. I mean I have always been good at offering to help when I’d see a situation get to be a bit more trouble than it should have been, or when there was some form of injustice that needed a little correcting, but to actually have someone, especially one of Pops personally selected prophets ask me for my assistance, well I just never expected it. So I did the only respectable thing I could think of, “Sure Ed, I’d be happy to…but you have to promise that He can never know about you asking me to help, ever.” I wasn’t so much worried about me getting in trouble as I was worried about him being destroyed and condemned for trying to help his family. The simple fact that Abe had humbled himself enough to ask me for help, well, I was impressed. He, who was Edmond, who became Abram, who was now Abraham, had grown up quite a bit, and I’ve always been one to help those in need.

Abraham laughed, “You don’t have to tell me that.”

And boom, just like that I was under consignment to help the prophet of the Lord get help from the Lord. The funny thing is that this was really not that hard of a thing to accomplish, it was just a matter of knowing your audience. All I had to do was set up the correct situation and let my old man respond the way He always does. If others like an idea and He thinks it’s His idea that they like, He’ll do it, it really is that simple. So first off, I needed to get a hold of an old friend. I needed to chat with Mike. Besides, he owed me a favor. I love Mike to pieces, and as much as I’d like to avoid this, I feel the truth is necessary to explain why Mike would help me out. The truth is that Mike had a thing for this Canaanite a prior. She was the cousin of a friend of mine. I knew her, and Mike wanted to know her, so I set up a little chance meeting. They were a cute couple, and to be honest, I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did. But eventually the whole archangel thing took its toll and they went their separate ways. In Mike’s favor, she really didn’t fully comprehend his work.

I went through my normal protocols to make sure that the necessary securities would be in place so that no one would be able to decode that I was trying to contact anyone in the kingdom of heaven. It usually took seven to ten business days to get a reply and a location that we could meet, but at least it was safe for all parties involved. It was on the ninth day that I got my reply and four days later Mike and I met up in a small pub in what would someday become Morocco. It was always important to meet in a portion of the world that was not part of Pops rule, you know, just in case.

“Mike! How the hell are you my friend?”

“Roy, it’s sure been a while. You look good.”

“Thanks, I feel good.”

“I’ll be honest, I was a little surprised to get your note, I haven’t noticed any major mishaps going on as of late.”

“This is probably going to sound a little strange, but it’s actually for Ed.”

“Who?”

“Abram…you know the new Abraham chap.”

“Oh yeah Abraham, the new proph… Really? How…what…you…” Mike stumbled.

“How’d I get involved?”

“Yeah.”

“He asked me.” I said.

“No!” questioned Mike.

“I shit you not.”

“But why?” Mike wanted to know.

“Parental issues.”

“And he wants help from Pops? That’s a little ironic. Did you tell him about you?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you hush up.” I then went on to explain why the issue was so important to Abe.

Mike understood, “So, knowing you, you’ve been giving this some thought before even contacting me, what’s the plan?” he asked.

“Well, its got to have all the holy ritual hooks on it so the old man will go along with it. I may need you to do a little motivating this time.” I started.

“Hmmm… Roy, you know my view on that.”

I’ve never really understood why the religious, angels for example, always have these odd lines that they draw that really seem to be based on some obscure moral. Mike told me years ago that he would be no part of anything that included any form of deception. Then he gets involved with a Canaanite and conveniently happens to forget to mention what he does for a living until their third month together. He never really lied, but what he did say was open to any kind of interpretation anyone wanted to give to it. But when I suggest a plan that would cause the old man to do something righteous that would make His prophet, followers, and friends look up to Him more, Mike has to have morals about not being deceptive. It made no sense at all, and I told him so.

“Well, if you put it like that, I do suppose I may be able to repeat myself a few times to make sure He hears what I say. Of course it all depends on what you had in mind.” Mike said.

“Ok fine, here’s the plan. First off, we need to put a little humility, humanity, and fear of god into this little shit.” I started.

“Don’t call Him a little shit.” ordered Mike.

“Not Him Him, but him, Abe’s little kid him.” I clarified. Mike relaxed. I went on, “He’s horrible Mike, and not the good kind of horrible, but that creepy, obnoxious horrible, like those poems we use to have to read is Mrs. Oswald’s emotional awareness class.” Mike shivered.

While in school Mike and I sat next to each other in a class called Your Emotions, taught by one Mrs. Laura Oswald. In the class old Laura felt the best way for us to experience our own emotions would be from experiencing the poetry of one Herman Potz, a renowned poet in at least 37 different universes, and considered a standard for all educational facilities in 14 of them. He was renowned not because his writing was particularly good, but because he had figured out and patented a writing skill that invokes pure emotions in the reader and listener alike. His poem, “Making out with Sylvia Platt” (just a coincidence, I swear) was one that left every person who ever read it with a feeling of the most shameful regret that you had to go home early and shower for three days straight before the feeling when away. Mothers threaten to read it to their children when they refuse bathe. I hear it works every time.

I went on, “Pops needs to be reminded that trials of faith are good ways to improve His standing with all His followers. Then even though doing a trial of faith on Abraham might be a little pointless, due to the promises He already made to Abraham, it might still inspire the faithful to, out of fear, since Pops seems to love that tactic best, would strive to follow Pops rules. But it also needs an element of surprise that would help hooks Pops interest long enough to follow though the trial to the end. It needs a kind of just kidding surprise at the end, something that Pops would find funny, but no one else in the entire existence of humanity would.”

“So, what is it?” asked Mike.

“Have Pops command Abraham to kill Isaac in His name, you know, as a sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice his son?” Mike questioned.

“I know it’s something that He’s already thought of, but with this one, He will tell Abraham to sacrifice his son and to let his son know about it, you know to freak the little bastard out. Then build up the tension and send Abe out to kill his son, thus showing his unwavering faith to his god to the world. Then as Abraham is about to kill Isaac, have Pops stop him, telling Abe that he has shown his faith and that there is no need kill his son, adding that the fact that Abe would have done it was sacrifice enough. That way Pops gets His woops, “just kidding ending” and Abraham gets enough reality slapped into his son that the kid mellows out and actually becomes a real boy. What do you think?”

“Honestly?” asked Mike.

“Yes.” I said.

“It sounds like a Potz poem.” Mike said.

“Harsh.”

“Well it does.”

“Look, everyone is going to win with this plan, especially your boss.” I insisted.

“But knowing your history, why would you do anything to make your old man look good?” Mike asked.

“Mike, I honestly think my mother had an affair after giving birth to Carl and just never told the old man about it.” I smiled.

“That’s it I’m out of here.”

“Kidding! Mike, come on. Ha ha, you know, a bit of a giggle. I’ve heard its called comedy.”

Mike smiled, “Gotcha.”

“Bastard.”

“Apparently that’s you.” replied Mike.

“Oh, got me!” I laughed.

“Ok, so what do I need to do?” asked Mike.

I explained what was needed and how he should approach the old man. I knew I could count on Mike. He’s a bit of a perfectionist and when there is a plan involved he’ll follow it to the letter. He actually conceded that the plan just might help everyone out in the end, and it would have if the little monster hadn’t made things worse while I was away. That’s the problem with a really good plan. It only seems to go according to plan as long as everyone reacts and behaves according to plan. Throw a child into the mix and you can bet that the only way things can go according to plan is if the plan states that nothing will go according to plan.

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