Pounded by Produce

by G.M. Fairy

“Have you seen my hairbrush?” Laurent yells across the field from the back kitchen door. I whip my attention to him as he rushes toward me, all legs and arms flailing behind his tall form. I shake my head when he’s still several paces away. He sulks, looking up at the clouds and screaming, “Oh, where is my hairbrush!”

“What a simple life you live. Here I am, leading the lost souls to God while you laze about, making jokes about tits. You must be God’s favorite.” Tomato juice drips down my chin, and Laurent reaches over to wipe it, laughing. “You’re definitely God’s favorite. He made me just to serve you.”

The musician's words get louder. He’s just on the other side of a trunk when I hear, “Everybody wants a water buffalo. Yours is mean, but mine is a kind fellow. Oh, where would you find one? I don't know, but everybody wants a water buffalo.”

“Sometimes I like to write kids' songs. I figured one day I could have a special during church called ‘Silly Songs with Laurent.’” He smiles, and his eyes shine.

He lowers himself, his head at my breast, his hands still caressing my skin. “I’m here to worship you, Emily. You are a goddess at the altar.”

Usually, the sight would cause me to praise the Lord and marvel at his creation, but right now, it pisses me off. Everything has a place, a job, and acts in perfect order. The trees don’t worry about whether or not they want to be a tree or if they have feelings for a bush. The grass doesn’t get distracted or forget to cover the earth. Why would God make personhood so difficult? Why would he leave so many questions unanswered and only up for interpretation? If he cared so much about good and evil, wouldn’t he clarify what is truly evil and what isn’t?