In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth in just six days, the seventh day dawned unscheduled. And God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, and did declare it “Me Time,” because the past six days had been A Lot.
God ignited a burning bush and cracked open a Book, but had no sooner settled down than the Angel Gabriel shouted, God? God? Where art thou? far louder than necessary, for God was sitting right there.
And the Lord God said, “I am here. Use thy inside voice.”
Gabriel then spake at a nigh imperceptible volume, having no concept of voice modulation. “Adam hath trod upon something pointy,” the Angel whispered, “Because the earth is super messy.”
“All was perfect when I departed mere minutes ago. How on earth can it be messy?” asked the Lord God.
And Gabriel shrugged and dragged his flaming sword along the ground with carelessness.
God commanded, “Fine. Let there be labeled, colorful bins in which to place the Pointy Things and Non-Pointy Things and Things for Making Colorful Art and Things for Playing Pretend.
“All that is in disarray shall, therefore, be organized into smaller units of disarray.”
And it was so. Gabriel flew to earth with the message of God’s new system and etched labels with his flaming sword, and God leaned back with the Book, but had not yet read enough of it to ascertain if it was good before Gabriel returned anew.
“The disarray hath been cubbied, Lord, but Eve cannot now find her favorite serpent, and she and Adam hath both asked for a snack.”
“I left snacks literally everywhere,” said God. “What is the problem?”
“The snacks they desire are in confounding packages,” spake Gabriel, “with peels that are sharp or slippery, or hanging upon branches not low enough to reach and, thereby, made more desirable by their impossibility. They cannot nibble upon thy snacks without aid.”
“And thou art doing what, exactly?” God asked Gabriel, but Gabriel had resumed playing with his sword and wasn’t listening.
God apportioned an equal number of snacks into easy-open zipper bags, counting to make sure that no bag had more snacks of any particular color than any other bag.
And God didst label a cubby SNACKS, and therein found Eve’s missing serpent, which also needed to be fed. God placed it in an apple tree, which would, God thought, be more reliable for food than Eve’s promise to “take such, such good care of” her pet.
God barely sat again before the air itself tore open with much wailing from below. “Now what?” hollered God, without standing up.
God heard only incoherent shrieking and the words “Gabriel” and “won’t share” and “it’s so burny and sparkly,” so God did confiscate the flaming sword and put it on the highest shelf and reminded everyone that this is why we can’t have nice things.
And God was exhausted, seeing the cubbies askew and empty of their contents, and their contents spread across the surface of the earth, and the unattended burning bush setting fire to its neighboring bushes, which were covered in fragrant berries.
God’s discontent brought rain upon the land, and dark liquid streamed from the bushes with an aroma that was intoxicating, and beasts supped upon it, seeming both happy and energetic.
God could not remember happiness, or energy, and gathered the aromatic liquid.
It was a concoction of dark and potent roastiness. And it was so, so good. God felt restored. The seventh day was much improved, and God relaxed again with the liquid and the Book and a day of unscheduled rest.
Until Adam and Even smelled God’s beverage and demanded a taste.
“You wouldn’t like it,” said God.
“Yes, we would!” insisted the humans.
“This is God’s drink,” said God. “I made it for Me.”
“You tell us to share,” sniffed Eve.
God laughed with resigned desperation. Perhaps a swallow of concentrated bitterness might placate these two open, whining maws of need long enough for God to have five minutes of peace. Maybe even ten.
“Fine,” said God, and gave a sip unto Adam and Eve.
“This is GOOD!” they shrieked, far louder than necessary, for God was standing right there.
Adam and Eve began zooming around all Creation, and lo, found yet more ways to argue. Adam believed the beverage was better when sourced from a single bush and poured from a vessel of glass, and Eve did favor it siphoned through a metal sieve with waters from the highest peaks. Neither would cede any grounds to the other.
Then they were hungry again, and God told them to fix a problem themselves for a change. “Find an apple,” God said.
And much later, while sipping slowly from a cup of roasted bemusement and irony, God reflected that there was only God’s own self to blame.