OUR GOD RALPH, CHAPTERS 1,2,3

The Cosmology of Ralph CHAPTER 1, 2, 3


Hundreds of thousands of years ago, a group of hunter gatherers stopped on a fertile plane of black dirt and decided to start planting some crops and raising cattle. In a near by grove of Cedar trees was a god, Ralph, and as was the way of people back then, they started worshiping him.

The world was filled with a lot of gods back then, and most of them were vying for the attention of humans, and then making them do stuff for their amusement... Most gods, being basically needy performers with, for lack of a better term, 'god complexes,' were always trying to one up one another by smitting this and that person, making someone else a saint, spoiling another's milk.... Ralph kind of stayed out of all of this tomfoolery, being one of the few gods who really didn't have much ambition.

As will happen when power is splashing around the ethereal plane, a few gods rose to the top of the heap, like Allah and Yahew and Morton Smeed (the latter who is now forgotten, though he was once worshiped all across the planet in complex call and response ceremonies that were made up entirely of 'burps,' which are known to historians to have been not only quite transcendent, but also cured warts on or about the left toes).

Ralph thought the gods who were scrambling around gathering worshipers' were wasting thie lives... in fact, he was kind of a slacker when it came to Godding. He really didn't care if he had a lot of followers or not. God's need only a few followers to exist on this plane as well as their own, and Ralph had enough for his purposes, and would have lived and let live if the other, nastier gods, would only let him.


He simply wasn't into all the blood and gore that the other god's seemed to get off on. In fact, he was the original pascifist god. Jesus took a lot of Ralph's drunken sermons and peiced together the Sermon on The Mount -- which is why they are so oddly peaceful when compared with the curses Jesus was known for throwing on people for the slightest of slights -- you did not want to serve him cold soup, oh no... that was leprosy, at least). No, Ralph did not care for domination at all, though his ideas on pacifism did change after the human population explosion. In fact, as more and moer species became extinct around the glone, the god Ralph grew more and more mysanthropic and partial towards killing for whims, like most gods.

Ralph was not big on speculation, either.. The other god's couldn't get enough of making up laws about this and that, and sometimes they even thought they were doing the right thing, but way more than half the time when a priest asked Ralph a question about the after life or whatever, he would just kind of shrug, and then make it out like 'man wasn't read to know,' though anyone who knew him well knew they were just being blown off because Ralph was bored with the conversation.



Ralph could see a bit of the future, of course, like all God's,
and he knew that he would be marginalized, that the small village he called his own with it's small populace of peaceful people, would be taken over by one of the blood thirsty armies of human's that the other, power-tripping gods were always putting together in their never ending need to enlarge their audiences, and thus feel more loved and worthwhile. Prayers are the ultimate applause, after all. He would have changed this if he could, and might have put forth the mighty effort needed if it were not too late by the time he realized as much.

Yes, Ralph's slacker ways were both a good and a bad traite in a god. Some years he would get behind on the harvest and the villager's would literally spend days in prayer getting him to come down and make their fields grow, yet on the hand he never asked for sacrifices or really much of anything beyond the occasional dinner invitaions and to be present at all parties. Hardly any of the villagers seriously even considered converting.

The day came when an army of men covered in steel rode stallions down into the village and began cutting down the men, raping the women, and stealing the children and wealth, as the christian and muslim god's had them doing a lot back then. Ralph did what he could, but he wasn't very powerful when compared to the other prayer inflated gods. He gathered up one family and took them into an astral plane, keeping them there until the maurader's had all passed, and then landing them in a safe village afterwards, where he was able to conjour up a job for the father.

Ralph followed that family then, all down the eons, to present day... part of their secrecy was to keep all knowledge of Ralph from the children, who were only told on their eighteenth birthday about their god, Ralph. Ralph tried to make a good impression at such times, usually would shave and tuck in his shirt and make himself smell like something pleasent, like sandalwood. He had a hard time keeping a straight face through all the mumbo jumbo that the various preists had built into the ceremony over the years, and this seemed to endear the new recruits to him. He would give them a few miracles to seal their faith.

Something of a guardian angel, and something of a smelly houseguest, the God Ralph has all the normal tenants and rules of any religion, but Ralph could seldom be bothered to remember them in the best of times, and in the last few hundred years he had been smoking weed hourly.

Ralph requires one person in the family to write down his exploits, as must be done for god's, so that when he gets bored he can read back on his accomplishments (god's do this a lot more than they ever admit). He chose Migully Foolip for no other reason than illiteration. Everyone told Migully that there was an honor that went with being the scribe of a god... But Migully was not so sure... there was the practicality's of bunking with Ralph, -- who could be meddlesome, and whose miracles back fired half the time. He also refused to pick up after himself or clean the bathroom -- and for a god him to do a task like cleaning required about as much effort as half a human thought. He could just think, 'make it clean.'


Migully bitched at him at first... but bitching at a god is a tricky thing. Ralph was known to lash out and give people an extra arm, or make one of their eyes explode. Migully learned his lesson the day he tried to get Ralph to clean up after his nine cats and was turned into a large turd for the day. It was not a mistake he made again. Like most human's, he just ignored his god when he could, and dealt with him when he had to... which was more than he liked, because of the scribe thing...


"Someone is at the door, Migully." Ralph didn't like the sound of the doorbell, and it was an annoyance that he blamed entirely on his scribe.
"Who is it?"
"Okay, I'll check... fucking Mormon."
"That's like the third this summer. Don't you think it's about time that you smite one of them? You zapped the Jehova Witnesses on their first trip here."
"Man, can't this wait until there's a commercial?"
"He's going to ring that doorbell again in a second."
"Okay, okay... there, I just made him spontaneously combust. His fellow missionary is on the lawn right now hysterically wetting himself. Shit, I deserve Nachos or something like that when I answer prayers."
"Really?"
"Yes, that is a tenant."
"It is not."
"Sure... something like, Verily bring unto my altars nachos slathered in near-cheese."
"I've been your scribe like less than a week, and already... well, your tempting my faith, Ralph. God's aren't supposed to lie."
"We don't lie, we change the truth. It's really all the difference in the world. Remember that day that I made you into a cat terd?"
"I still gag when I think about the inside of my mouth being cat terd."
"Unless I get some nachos, you are going to be terded out for like the next week. You can write that up in your scriptures and preach it, man."
"Really?"
"What did they tell you?"
"Anything you want me to write down, I write down."
"It's scripture now, baby."
"Are all the god's as... cavalier as you?"
"The ones who care, do only so because they like to cause you pain. I'm the exception, because of the kind of grove that I originally inhabited."
"Cedar, right?"
"No, we just put that in after that movie Reefer Madness came out. It was a grove of pot. Nice red, hairy buds."
"Really?"
"No. But that sure would help the taste of those nachos. Put that in there, too -- verily, nachos must... something like, come with holy weed and some sort of smoking device that is not a pop can and a bit of aluminum foil poked with holes."
"Look, I'm sorry about that, okay?"
"Tell you what, get the nachos, and I'll forgive you."
"Okay."
RALPH BRINGS DOWN THE WRATH OF THE MORMONS... ..AND THE SCIENTOLOGISTS AND MAD DONNA AND ASSFACE KURCHER ...



Thus Spoke the God Ralph: "I am sure that you have heard of De-proggraming, Muggily, where a cult member is taken to a hotel and fed big mac's and forced to watch soap operas and Jim Varney films until they are as normal as the rest of you humans? Well, why doesn't anyone do this with, say, the Mormon's? Or Seventh Day Adventist? I mean, you could even show these Catholic priests a little hetero porno and maybe save some little arse's from being sluiced with jesus juice? But no, being human's, you pick on the week ones, the wimpy moonies with their man dresses and shit. There is a psycho sexual side to that which would blow your human mind were I to explain it."
"Really?"
"No, but that sounds good, doesn't it? Use it somewhere else in my scriptures, okay?"
"I'll make a note."
"I'll need your help snatching enough people to make this effort worth my while."

This was the kind of moment Mugily dreaded... everyone had warned him to be careful when trying to dissuade the god from one of his nefarious whims, and he had already spent a day as a terd after complaining about the cat smell. "Uh, Ralph, I don't think that is a good idea. The Cult Awareness network got sued by the scientologist for shit like that... and wait a minute, isn't the mormon god a little stronger than you?"
"Man, you don't know shit, do you? That's one of those made up religions. That's why I can smite them."
"Like the Jehovoa Witnesses?"
"No, they have a god, he's just too into coke and vaigra to give much of a shit at this point. Like Buddha."
"I was an atheist until I turned 18 and we had the Shumbagogo. I never would have believed in any god, let alone you. The more I get to know you the better off I think I was."
"Careful, Mugily, as a god, I think of killing you as only slightly more serious than swatting a mosquito... slightly, ever so slightly. So, scribe, just listen to me... a couple days ago I decided that it was high time to start deproggramming some christians. I thought and thought and thought about things that can radically change someones life; something they could convert to instead of their silly myths; something that would hook them, like religion did... finally it came to me -- I'd make them crack addicts. I figured, once I got them addicted to crack they would have to steal and prostitute themselves to support their habits, which would cause their moral compasses to shift all over the place, eventually shattering their lying paradigms and breaking them out of their little 'Denny's Prayer Brunches Mania.'"
"Man, you really hate Brunches."
"Let no man say other.... they really are soul killers, those brunches. You throw in backgammon and you are on your way to the hell realms, boy. Here's my plan for deprogramming thee twirps, okay? I started with two mormon kids... they were riding along the street, so I took this van and ran them over, breaking enough bones to make them easy to push around and get in the van and all. I then drove them to a crack house, and had them shot up with herion, making their pains all go away. Now, I have them on a constant diet of porno and south park, and they seem to be responding well, going from having gag reflexes and shaking their heads to laughing maniacally and masterbating with impunity."

"What do you mean, you . . . started?"
"Yea, I went back in time and started this last tuesday. After their bones have healed in horribly mangled ways, they will be in pain for the rest of their lives and thus horribly messed up on pain drugs and as ready to hate god as some... I don't know, wombat, I guess... they are the real hardcore athiests of the animal kingdom, of course."
"Really?"
"Mugily, you really will believe anyting, won't you?"
"Where are these Mormon's you're experimenting on, exactly."
"Oh, I took them to this place I know across state, so you wouldn't get up your bretheren and start meddling, like you did when I was growing tha Mau Wai."
"You almost got us all arrested."
"Like I would let that happen."
"We never know with you, Ralph. Sometimes you are right there with what color to paint the car, and the next day you can't be bothered to save the dog's life."
"I have never let one of your dog's die un-naturally."
"Just the humans?"
"There are too many of you, Muguily, by the reports of your own damn scientists. Next I am going after a catholic preist. I will attempt to change his sexuality, and if that works, break their Bingo addictions."
"I think you should just go to a movie or something."
"Too late. Just write shit down and enjoy the ride that is Ralph, okay? Got the nachos and weed?"
"Is that all you ever consume?"
"Yes." "

Mugily sat down in the cat scratched black leather coach that had been so pristine when he bought it a year before and had been totally trashed after just six days with Raph's unruly, spoiled felines. The room was beginning to smell from the litter again. He was having to change it almost everyday to keep up the illusion that the place did not smell of cat, like he secretly suspected and was indeed correct about, though he would never know because his friends and relatives were just too damn polite to tell him -- not to mention, they all kind of felt for the scribe in Ralph's life.

Scribe's often came to bad ends, a miracle gone awry -- once only half of a scribe showed up in Puerto Rico for their annual Smiggly Soo Pen reunion... the other half of the poor man never was found. Some of the family knew a lot more about Ralph than Mugily, and they had more to fear for him than the others of course. Only a few in the religion were aware of it, but Ralph did indeed have a few enemies among the godly world, and if not for a few equally powerful gods who he partied with, the goodly god would have been banished from the earthly plane thousands of years before.

These enemies occasionally got a burr in their bonnets and decided to go after Ralph and cause him some trouble; none of them wanted out right war, so they were tricky about it... mostly pretendig like they were just playing practical jokes. Thing is, when god's play practical jokes on each other, people usually get killed. Like once when one of Ralph's more rambunction buddies put his cleric into an industrial size blender, then poured the bloody mix into a bucket and put it over his door so it dumped on Ralphs' head. They were not very inventive when it came to practical jokes, obviously.... justy bloody and gross, like all gods.

"Hey, I don't see you going out to the kitchen to make me an offering of Nachos?"
"Can't you just conjour these things up?"
"You know, I'll bet no one makes Jesus get his own nachos."
"Can you introduce me to some of these other gods?"
"What, you shopping around now?"
"No..."
"I was kidding, but you are only partically so... Sometimes reading your mind makes me fucking sick. Oh, don't go there even in your.... now your just thinking nachos, in cheese sauce, trying to throw me... oh, chili and cheese. I think you need to go down to the Tex Mex Chix and get some of those Beaver Meat Cheese Nacho Supremes and I'll ... bless you, or some damn thing. Verily, verily, I say -- goeth in search of Nachos... but first, get something to poke the resin out of my bong and change the beer in there. Verily, verily, I have spoken... whoo, whoo, whoo."
"That used to make your preist's shiver?"
"No, shit. It was funny, man, so... you are not scared enough of me, you know? That will probably lead to my accidently killing you. Well, half accidently killing you. Oh, I'll see it coming a few days before hand, and I'll think about changing time, tell myself I should... then, it'll be too late and I'll content myself with a new cleric."
"Uh, okay... really?"
"Sure."
"Did you reall get the munchies and turn a scribe into Taffy and eat him?"
"Now... I can change anything into Taffy, at any time... why the hell would I waste a scribe?"
"I just wondered."
"Is that in the scripture somewhere?"
"I don't think..."
"A lot of that shit, I was way too drunk to remember much... you know, how you get all serious and meloncholy sometimes... well, when you're a god, you get like this, then you get to exaggerating, as gods do... next thing you know, you've got the book of revelations. Yea, that was me. The christians pretty much took whatever they found, drew a smily jesus face on it and called it their own, you know?"


RALPH ON THE RUN...

Mugily's neighbors are just the normal, salt of the earth kind of folk that you find out here in the heartland of america... There is Ritlip, molester of plants and hater of noises from small children. He is haunted by his super power -- the ability to hear his neighbors tiniest doings.

In the apartment above him was Hiplo, who is obsessed with pouring tins of left over tuna water on panty displays at upscale boutiques (most of them have his picture up in the break room with a 'mace on sight' order, and he indeed gets maced all the time). In his spare time, he lives out a disability he got after taking some psych tests once when he was thinking about joining the army... or the navy... he couldn't remember after awhile and was known to occasionally get stoned on cough syrup and have one or the other branches of the armed services tattooed on his body. In his spare time, he likes to sexual stuffed animals.

First floor front apartment was Jakolp, a hot shot, celebrity janitor with a local cable show where he displays pictures of what clogged up various celebrity drains and toilets. Shocking and grotesque, his show is the highest rated in the public access market, with two or three letters a month pouring in from fans. He is a Yugoslavian immigrant who was a reknown heart surgeon in his own country, and resents like hell that he is treated by the stars as their 'toilet toy' (though he was not above copywriting the name, putting it on business cards, and all the other sound business practices that it took for him to take the celebrity janitorial world by storm).

In the basement apartment, which is even with the streets, lives a foot fetished out freak, Kiplo, who has paintings and busts of feet filling every space of wall in his place. Suspicious stains on the carpet in front of some of the paintings are explained away as 'glue spills,' though no evidence of actual use of glue has ever been discerned. He is the seeker among the dullards, a guy who thinks anyone who gets a job and has kids and lives a normal life of decorating the garage with power tools was part of a vast conspiracy that was vaguely related to a plot by Beavers to cut human water supplies and return their god to the throne of earth, which he was knocked off when man developed opposing thumbs. He is sure that one day he will find enlightenment, that it will come as a surprise in a box of cereal. This he eats all day and night, and weighs around four hundred pounds...
Kiplo covers his walls in tin foil so it looks cool with colored bulbs, and though no one can stand the cold, cerebrial yet ever so slightly trashy look of his apartment, his neighbors are too afraid of pissing of 'a crazy' to say anything more than the usual polite nicities.


Their lives were basically your normal one. They had allegeince with a local gang for protection, paid the cops off, kept up on our health insurance, cashed theirr govchecks and used their stamps. They hadn't even had a water abuse ticket for like three years, before Ralph.

Their tranquilty was shredded the day his eleven cats came ripping into the apartment... he even brought a dirty, disgustingly full litter box with him.


In less than a week, he had managed to bring the full wrath of the Mormon church down on their heads. The High, High Mormon, Morman council was convinced that all of the residents of the building were part of some 'Ralph Cult,' as the newspapers were calling them. There sort of was a cult, too, so this made defending themselves against this charge all the harder, of course (though the cult was actually a mind control experiment of Ralph's, where he was deproggramming mormons).

A lot changed when the Bush Monarchy took over the world and the rich moved to the moon (finally answering the question of why they didn't mind polluting it all those years -- they'd been planning on moving to the moon for hundreds of years, and considered the environmental destruction of earth 'a jolly good joke on the disgusting, smelly masses).' No more wars, no explotation, no working sewer systems, and few jobs... luckily, with the rich gone, the mechanical types easily created machines to do all the work so mankind could spend more time exploring such subjects as daytime telvision soap operas.


Some god's were so appalled by Bush that they tried to stop the family from taking over the world and putting a monarchy back in place. . .

Ralph was among them. They lost and as losers were kind of just left on earth forgotten. A lot of god's perished outright that day, as people faced down the environmental catastrophe and cursed them. Ralph was lucky in that he was the primary weed connection for one of the young members of his church, or he might have been cursed away as well. Cursed away entails
of course being sent to the nethers, where nothing is substantial unless the god's make it -- which is a lot more work than Ralph wants to do on any given day.

As per Ralph's rather slipshod godding, they had barely escaped from the Mormon's and were in a bus at a very high rate of speed, blowing through red lights and ignoring signs... at first, whenever a cop got on thier tale, Ralph was killing them in spectacular flame filled accidents, until Mugily protested that they were just doing their job. After some grumbling about how the human population was causing suffering to the penguin, who Ralph made clear were to be reverred as 'nature's goddamn clown, man!', he finally just started sending the cops across state.

Ralph was no great driver in the best of times, and as he flew down the highway at 120 he was also drinking a beer and rolling a joint and peeing into a cup. Mugily was gettig quite sick of crasing and having to be resurrected and healed, as were they all.

"Ralph, there is no need to go this fast. The Mormon's are never going to catch us."
"Oh, I'm not worried about them. I'm just kind of getting off on driving fast."
"You know, that is fine for someone who is impervious to pain, Ralph, but when us humans die, that shit hurts. I mean, you reattached my head three times today.... and I'm going to puke if I see my intestines splattered on another road. Seriously."

"Man, I should fucking smite you for pissing on my buzz. In fact get out ..."
"No, not the scripture..."
"Hey, you are the fucking scribe of a god, have some respect."
"Okay, don't give me a second asshole or something... "
"A second asshole, eh?"
A shout of surprise from Kibo in the back made clear to Mugily that the temptation of surprising someone with a second asshole had been too much for the god.
"Oh, let their asses be, dear lord, Ralph."
"Don't get sarcastic with me. Uh, oh... looks like a gas truck up ahead. Get ready to fry boy... "
"Noooo.... ahhhh... ugh, ugh... huh..."

Once Ralph resurrected and healed everyone, including the truck (which took him mere seconds), Mugily was once more sitting in the front seat, staring down at the road pouring into the windsheild, dreading his next death... when Ralph suddenly spied a sign for strawberry pie and changed the truck into a helicopter which kind of zig zagged over farm houses and fields before smashing into the parking lot of a small country restaurant. After resurrecting and healing everyone, they all sat down to some scruptious pie, and none could help but thank Ralph for the particularly tasty strawberry's, and while he was quick to accept their praise, he had nothing to do with it...

TO BE CONTINUED