Corn

I was expecting a plastic racing car, with Dinky little wheels and a pin sized driver, with goggles and a scarf that had been through a wind tunnel, but it wasn’t to be. I shook God out of a Cornflakes box.

‘Don’t look so surprised,’ He said, ‘I’m everywhere and it is Kellogs.’

‘But…’

‘But nothing,’ He said, ‘just shut the lid over and leave me alone.’

I felt cheated. ‘Don’t I get three wishes or something?’

He pulled the lid over himself.

I picked the Holy Cornflakes box up to listen and heard His muffled replies.

‘Stop shaking the box about.’

‘You’re confusing me with a Genie.’

‘Sorry. I’m always doing that sort of thing.’ I put the Holy Cornflakes box down as gently as I could beside the toaster that didn’t work, but I’d high hopes for it now. ‘Can’t you go somewhere else?’ I whispered.

The lid flew open. ‘I am everywhere else.’ Then it closed again.

‘Wait here. I’m going to phone my mum. Don’t go anywhere. She’s a big fan of yours.’

I thought I heard swearing, but I might have been wrong, because there was no obvious signs of lid movement that I’d associated with new revelations. I’d one of those new IPod phones, a work of art that would have impressed just about anybody. It was hanging in my jacket pocket in the hall cupboard. For some reason I tiptoed to get it. Meeting God makes you do funny things. Because it was a new phone I hadn’t gotten around to using it much, apart from to play games and look at porn, obviously. I punched in mum’s number and let it ring. I knew she would be so proud of me.

As this was the third most exciting thing ever to happen to me I couldn’t keep the excitement out of my voice. ‘Mum…’

‘I think you’ve got the wrong number mate,’ a man’s voice said.

‘Shit phone,’ I said and felt like banging it off the wall, but it’d cost too much and I couldn’t insure it because of what happened to the last phone.

I noted some lateral left hand side lid movement. ‘You punched in a 2 instead of a 3 because you got too excited. You’re always doing Klutzy things like that because you hurry everything. It’s not good for you, you know.’

Everyone hates a know-all. I didn’t say it, but He heard me.

‘Just slow down and smell the roses.’

I thought God should come up with something better than that. ‘Ok,’ I said diplomatically, ‘I’ll just phone my mum.’

I could hear Him breathing. ‘Why are you calling your mum? She’s already got a Cornflakes box and I’m everywhere.’

The phone on the other end started ringing. I held my hand up in case God tried to interrupt me, but the phone went onto the answer machine.

‘I don’t know why I buy her a mobile when she’s never got it with her,’ I fumed. There was no point in not saying it, as He’d hear it anyway. If anybody had interviewed me now I’d have told them it was quite cathartic talking to God.

‘She keeps it in the drawer in the bedside cabinet. She’s sure if she takes it anywhere she’ll get mugged for it, or worse, lose it and that would upset you. Besides she doesn’t like them. She thinks having a mobile is just some lame excuse for not having to visit her.’

The last bit was a bit muffled and echoy because I’d shut the lid over.

‘Shouldn’t I make a shrine or something?’ I was trying to be practical.

‘A shrine to a Cornflakes box. Geez peace. Believe me, do that and people will think you’re daft. Anyway, shrines always attract the wrong types. All those gooey eyes and syrupy voices. You build a shrine mate and I’m off.’

I flung my hands over the Cornflakes lid box so that it couldn’t flap open. I’d some superglue in one of the kitchen drawers, but I couldn’t remember which. I shook the Cornflakes box about. ‘Be off Son of Beelzebub. Return to your infernal den.’ I was rather proud of the voice. It was manly and rough sounding. My arms soon, however, tired of shaking and I didn’t know whether to put the box down or what to do with it. Eventually, I placed it down gently on the kitchen table and my hand crept away from the lids.

‘What did you do that for?’ God or Beezebub asked. Neither of them sounded that pissed off.

‘I thought.’

‘I know what you thought.’

‘But if you know, then how come…?’

‘Because sometimes I cannae be arsed,’ said God emphatically. ‘What age are you anyway? There’s no such thing as devils. What do you think men have made of this world? I think that’s devil enough to be going on with.’

‘Sorry,’ I said, but He knew I wasn’t really. ‘How about a wee miracle, just to prove…?’

He laughed because He already knew. ‘But I’ve made you perfect. You’re short sighted so that everybody looks good until it’s too late to see the difference. You’ve got a big nose and big ears so that the issue of contraception will never be a problem in your life. No women would look at you and if they did you’d immediately snaffle them up and marry them. And you’d be that grateful for any little female kindness any woman would throw your way you’d treat her like a God…Well, maybe not a God, but you know what I mean.’

‘I’m not perfect,’ I said.

‘Well said God,’ but He simply coughed, rather than spring another revelation. ‘So you want to.’ He coughed again, ‘meet Cindy Crawford?’

‘A young Cindy Crawford.’ I corrected Him.

‘You want me to rearrange the stars in the cosmos, pull planets from their trajectories an disrupt the fates and arcs of time so that you can have Cindy Crawford?’

‘Of course,’ I said. The good thing about talking to God was that you couldn’t tell him any lies.

‘All right.’

‘All right?’ I almost choked.

‘It’s already done.’

There was a chap at the door.

‘Is it really her?’

‘Yeh.’

There was another chap at the door, only louder this time.

‘You did that for me?’

‘Yeh,’

The doorbell that hadn’t even been connected started ringing and the door chapped. I was half way across the room. ‘How can I ever thank You?’

‘Maybe a bit of preaching.’

The doorbell was ringing, the door was chapping and then my phone started ringing and Cindy’s number flashed up. ‘Is this preaching dangerous?’

A text message flashed up: ‘Please. Please. Call me. We need to talk. Cindy xxx.’

‘Depends how you define dangerous,’ said God.

‘I knew it,’ I said, ‘they’ll crucify me. No deal.’

The phone stopped ringing, but the door didn’t stop banging. I was so nervous I could hardly turn the key.

‘Mum,’ I said. I didn’t want to sound disappointed, but I patted her on the shoulder to make sure she was real and gave her a gentle push to one side in case Cindy was somewhere behind her.

I took a deep breath. ‘I’ve got something to show you mum.’ I was so disappointed, but couldn’t help smiling. ‘Look.’ My index finger shot out, pointing to the Cornflakes box.

Mum smiled. She didn’t know what I meant.

‘The Cornflakes box,’ I said.

She looked at me strangely, but humoured me, going across and picking it up and shaking it. ‘Oh yes,’ she said, as if she’d solved some puzzle, ‘I see what you mean now, ‘the Cornflakes box has not been opened, yet…’She picked up a plastic toy, ‘you’ve got the little plastic toy out. I don’t know how they do that. It’s a miracle isn’t it?’

‘Let me see that.’ I pulled it from her hand perhaps more roughly than I should. The figure in the racing car that was tagged as ‘The Cindy,’ had a handlebar moustache and a devilish grin.