Ramos the God?

Ramos waiting for the phone to ring.

“And the heavens opened, and all the Gods fell to Earth.”

Much commotion.

“Wait a minute, where are you going?”

“Down to Earth. Didn’t I just hear you say that the heavens opened and the Gods fell to earth?”

“I did yes. But you’re not a God, at least not a God yet.”

Ramos looked down at the ground. “That’s just not fair. I’ve been waiting five hundred thousand years to become a God and I still can’t be one.”

“Well,” replied Jack, “looking sadly at the young boy who seemed so lost. “Well, it’s up to you. In order to be a God, you have to be a God of something. And you still haven’t decided what you’re going to do when you grow up.”

Ramos held his head and then he suddenly looked up with a large smile on his young cherubic face, “I can be the God of wine. I love wine. Especially California wine,” but then his words drifted off as he saw the look on Jack’s face.

“There’s already a God of wine, Bacchus.”

Ramos looked lost again. A moment later he smiled, “how about drugs? I can be the God of drugs.” Jack looked at him as if he had two heads. “You’re right,” he replied and turned, “I guess I’ll go back to my room and contemplate my next move.”

Jack genuinely felt sorry for the young man. “Maybe I have an idea,” Ramos stopped, turned and clasped his hands in anticipation, “you can be the God of safe drivers.”

Ramos’ shoulders drooped. “There’s already a God of safe drivers,” he moaned.

“Who?”

“St Christopher.”

“Yes, but he’s a saint, and saints aren’t Gods, even though they come up here and behave as if they are. In order to be a God you can’t come up from Earth and be one made by other humans. You have to be born a God. Well except that’s there been one exception and maybe you can work with him to hone your skills.”

“Pope John Paul?” asked Ramos feeling there was a chance it could happen in his lifetime. “Yes exactly! He did a lot of good on the earth and I’ve heard that Zeus wants to elevate him to the position of a God.”

“A God of what though?”

“Well, he’s not sure. He thought maybe a God without a portfolio as they do in some incompetent governments on Earth. Yes, that’s it. You can be his assistant and then move on to being a God in your own right.”

Ramos at first was excited, but after a few moments of thinking, his shoulders dropped again. “What’s the matter?” asked Jack believing he had found the right solution for a problem that had plagued mankind for centuries.

“I’ll still be an assistant and not a God, so I won’t be able to go down to Earth when you next proclaim the heavens opened.”

Jack rubbed his beard, “that’s true, except and I believe there’s an exception if you are official. As an assistant God you can join the others for a few days of fun at the casino and yes you can go to the wine bars in California and help them out.”

“Help them out? Why, isn’t anyone drinking wine?”

“Oh yes they are, but now employers have to pay the employees $20 an hour so not many people to go wine bars, because a glass of wine is more expensive than if you were to buy a bottle.”

“I could go to Governor Newsome’s bar. He found a loophole so he doesn’t have to pay $20 an hour and I can eat at Panera Bread.”

“Very true.” Jack seemed excited. He hadn’t been that excited since Queen Marie Antoinette shouted let them eat cake, and that was a while ago. “Great idea Godlet. I’ll see what strings I can pull to make this happen.”

“Wait a minute!” Ramos raised his finger, “what’s this Godlet business?”

“Well, when you’re in training to become a God you’re known as a Godlet.”

Ramos looked disheartened. “Godlet sounds like baby chickens.”

“Baby chickens?” Jack was confused.

“Well, baby chickens are chicklets, aren’t they?”

Jack laughed, “no they are just chicks.”

“Maybe, but can we find a different name?

“Such as what?”

“Oh I don’t know, that’s above my pay grade.”

“Ok I’ll talk to Zeus when he returns from the casino.”

“That will be a while, won’t it?”

“A couple of years,” replied Jack.

“Earth years?” asked Ramos still disillusioned that he wasn’t able to catapult himself into the annals of heavenly history.

“Yes, Earth years,” replied Jack. “When we go to Earth, we deal in Earth years. Now if you were to go to Sagittarius then it would be much longer.”

Yes, there was a question there but Ramos who had had enough bad news for the day decided to cut his losses and walked slowly away. “Where are you going?”

“The library,” he muttered, his head still hanging low, “why?”

“Well, I want to know where you are so I can give you the news after I speak with Zeus.”

“Oh,” replied Ramos refusing to get his hopes up. “Oh ok,” and he hung his head low and continued walking towards a large brick building with a massive door guarded by two other cherubins.

“Buck up Ramos,” one of them said. “Just go to the quiet room and wait for a few more centuries just as we have. Can’t you find something to be God yet? We can, but we don’t have the money to make the transition.”

“You have to buy your godship?”

“Yes of course you do Ramos.”

“Then I’m sunk. I don’t have any money.”

“Yes,” replied the shorter of the two cherubim, “it’s like a catch 22. You can’t become a God unless you have money, and you can’t have money unless you’re a God.”

Suddenly Ramos’ face lit up. “I have the answer,” he replied sounding very excited and the two cherubim not wanting to miss out on a word, let go of the doors which nearly hit a minor Assyrian God in the face.

“What’s the idea?” asked the taller of the two cherubim.

“There’s a book in the library. I’m sure that’s where I saw it, in which it tells you how to make money without trying.”

“Without trying?” replied both cherubim sounding really excited and they didn’t even apologise to the Assyrian God who stood there waiting for an apology, before walking off in a huff.

“Yes, it’s called Think and Grow Rich, and I know I can think.”

“Me too!” replied the cherubim’s ignoring the Assyrian God who had stopped halfway down the stairs and turning to see if he would get an apology, but nothing came. He was being ignored and so he continued his walk towards the Piazza.

“Great idea, let’s go!”

“Who’s the author?” asked the taller of the two cherubim.

“Napoleon Hill,’ replied Ramos.

“Napoleon Hill! With a name like Napoleon it can’t work.”

“Why’s that?” Ramos refused to get disheartened again. He had had enough negative news for the day.

“Didn’t he die on Saint Helena?”

“Ha, ha, ha,” laughed Ramos, “that was Napoleon the French guy, this guy was American.”

“Oh good, because the French are like their wine, wishy washy, at least that’s what Bacchus keeps telling us.”

And with that the three walked into the library and headed for the fiction section.