"SmallFry - An Atheist Parable"
(C)2004 William Shroyer
SmallFry didn't sleep well that night. The neighbors were making far
too much racket, walking about the place without regard to how much
their thunderous footsteps shook her house or the fact that after a
full day like hers, she really, *really* needed to get some sleep.
Grandpa emerged from his slumber as she peered over towards the
offending neighbor's house with her usual exhausted, but alert
observance. "What's up, SmallFry?" he asked, noting her seeming
consternation.
She flicked her head in his general direction as her usual way of
saying, "Good morning," then answered his question. "I was just
thinking about the neighbors," she said. "They're spooky people.
They come and go at all hours, when they walk it shakes the walls of
our house, and sometimes they just sit there and stare at us for hours
and hours."
Grandpa just sort of chuckled and nodded knowingly. "Yes, I know," he
said. "The neighbors have always been that way."
She looked at him questioningly. "Well... doesn't it _bother_ you?"
she asked. "I mean they're just plain _weird_. Look!" she pointed.
"They even had the nerve to toilet paper our house!" Indeed, telltale
ribbons of white were flung about everywhere. The outside of their
house, the rest of the outside world, perhaps even the neighbor's
house.
Grandpa looked away for a moment as if remembering something. "It
used to," he said, "but they pay all our bills and keep us supplied
with plenty of food. And they don't seem to be hurting anyone by
their oddness, so I've just sort of learned to tune it out over the
years."
Irritated, SmallFry had to ask, "Yeah, they do pay all our bills and
give us plenty of food," she said, "but something about that just
doesn't feel 'normal' to me. Do you suppose many other people have
spooky neighbors that do that sort of thing for them? I mean, we
never even speak to them. I, for one, prefer to just downright avoid
them. But they don't seem to care. We go inside every time they come
around. I don't think we could be more obvious about the fact that
they make us uncomfortable and that we don't care if we'd never see
them again. I can't stand it when they knock, either - we never
answer, even if they can see us eye-to-eye while they're knocking.
You'd think they'd have gotten the hint by now, so I really don't
understand why are they so good to us."
"I know," Grandpa said. "I know. I've gone through all the same
thoughts you're going through now. I guess you just stop caring about
such details as you get older."
"Hmph." As she continued observing the neighbor's house in
anticipation of their arrival. Somehow, these things seemed like more
than just "details' to her. "It's also rather strange that we can't
actually see their house. We just know where they come from, not
where they go. You look and they're either outside, or they're not
outside."
Grandpa just left her youthful meanderings take their natural course.
He had indeed been through it all before. Then she had a sudden
thought that made her shudder. "What is it?" asked Grandpa, ever
alert to all nuances of her behavior. Sometimes this irritated her,
sometimes she was thankful for it. Given the thought she just had,
she found herself in the "thankful" category at the moment.
"Something's just not right, here," she said, looking up towards the
sky and around at the outside world as if searching for something.
Then she seemed to realize what felt so wrong: "Shouldn't it be
daylight by now?"
For a moment, Grandpa looked around, managing to suddenly look about
as confused as she felt. "You know, I think you're right," he said,
noting the continuing darkness of the night. Soon, the two of them
were looking out through each window as if to make sure the daylight
hadn't just been 'misplaced'.
"Nope, I can't find the daylight anywhere!" she said, turning to
Grandpa in the hopes that he might know what was going on. Grandpa,
in turn, was looking similarly at her. When it became obvious that
she was just as lost as he about the whole situation, he stopped to
think. In spite of the eeriness of the whole situation, his "focused"
expression made her chuckle. He always looked so cute when he was in
such deep concentration.
"It seems to me that this has happened before," he said, "but I can't
quite remember it, or how things ever got back to normal." He
continued curiously eyeing both the sky and the outside world as his
mind worked on processing the strange situation.
Another disturbing thought: "Do you suppose it's a sign from God?"
SmallFry asked.
Grandpa looked momentarily shocked by the notion, but then as his head
turned every which way to view the missing daylight, the suggestion
began seeming less unbelievable. "You know," he said, amazed at even
just the possibility, "that could be it! I wonder..." He continued
trying to remember, but to no avail.
Just then, SmallFry turned abruptly towards the sound of the neighbors
stomping around their house. She sighed as she said, "Great, it's
'them'..." As her and Grandpa spotted one of them appearing outside,
he and SmallFry made for their usual hiding places. The missing
daylight had them both spooked, and they weren't about to take any
chances by letting themselves be seen where the neighbors could easily
get at them. This was perhaps the most nervous she had ever seen
Grandpa - he always seemed to know what was going on, to have an
answer for everything. Or at least some soothing comment or another
that always managed to allay her fears.
But not this time. He noticed her fear at his lack of calm, and tried
to hide his own panic a little better. "I'm sorry," he said, "this is
all just too strange. Just stick close to me, small fry, and we
should make it through."
***
The party last night was terrific, but now Sandra had to face the task
of cleaning everything up. As she sat upright on her bed, head
throbbing with pain, she had to focus for a moment to figure out what,
exactly, she needed to do. There was some reason she didn't just lay
in bed all day, but for a brief moment, she couldn't remember what.
Then she remembered, muttered an epithet and proceeded to get up.
Walking out towards the living room, she turned the light on. She had
to feed the fish, then she was going straight back to bed. As she
approached the tank, she watched them bolt into their usual hiding
places - an algae eater about 8 centimetres long and a small zebra
dano not quite 4 centimetres. Their odd little behaviors always made
her smile at least a little, even when she was hung over.
Tapping some food out of the container and putting in one of the algae
eater's food wafers, she praised God that the chore was done and that
she could now officially get back to bed.
***
As the neighbor left, SmallFry and Grandpa looked at each other in
amazement.
"She..." stammered Grandpa, "...she made the daylight come!" he said,
astounded. "I feel certain this must have happened before, but I
can't quite remember when."
An even more disturbing thought: "Do you suppose she's God?" SmallFry
asked.
As Grandpa went for his food wafer and SmallFry pecked at the food
floating at the top of the tank, he replied, "I guess she must be.
What other explanation might there be for it? Who else can make the
daylight come and rain food down from the heavens?"
{The End}
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