Dog Boy Bobbing in a Boat,
The Autobiography of God
Entire contents, cover art and illustrations by RMark Johnson
Copyright 2013 by RMark Johnson
In the beginning was the word and the word was fug. It was sufficient unto itself and so had no further meaning, per se. This state would continue for uncounted billions of billions of years awaiting a moment of need by Rinehart & Company on behalf of Norman Mailer in 1948.
On the first day, even despite that I was God, as of course, I AM now, I realized I had never seen a woman and guessed that She had never seen a man. She can't have realized that She is God. This was certain. I couldn't say Myself that She wasn't a reflection and, since Reflection could not exist then, I would need to create some properties for it, a nature of some sort. Whatever the reflection would show, it wouldn’t be doG – because that could only be a Pun, a metaphor – impossible to arrange because I didn’t even have phor, yet. And, furthermore, my entire oral history consisted two words (“I AM” – actually, three, if you count “fug”). Going down this track, eternity could be completely used up before Universe got going. And, besides, it was just unfair that I already had a splitting headache before I conceived of a head to put it in.