The Irreverent Mr Black

Inspired by an item a friend wrote on the AFA Forums.

Just saw on Weekend Sunrise, where they’re wittering on about easter, some bloke just said he thinks we’re about to see “the greatest battle in history” between “the Christians, the atheists and Islam”. Good grief!

Of course, this got me to thinking…

And it came to pass, that the Cage Match was arranged.

A hubbub arose from the Leaders Of The World’s Faiths. Who was to lead the March Of Champions around the arena and into the Cage Of Doom?

The Pope, Grand Mufti Of Whateverisbad, Archbishop of Canterbury, Westboro’s Jim Phelps and a thousand other world religious leaders argued their importance and precedence, only to grudgingly agree on a random choice process, with names written on communion wafers to be drawn from one of the Pope’s larger mitres.

The Pope insisted he should do the drawing, and he would wear one of those voluminous robes with the Very Big Sleeves to conduct the draw.

Who was to represent atheism? As usual, the religious leaders unanimously (and without consultation) pointed to Richard Dawkins. Some things never change.

Professor Dawkins agreed graciously, with a small shrug of resignation.

The Big Day arrived. London’s Olympic Stadium, almost completed now that the urgency of the Games had come and gone, housed the Cage Of Death.

Inside the Cage, a plethora of weapons lay ready for use: croziers, large crucifixes, aspergilla, a tub of poisonous snakes selected by an American sect, placards on sticks, leather-bound bibles with iron corner-guards, prayer-rugs which doubled as strangling-aids…

And the crowd waited. This was going out live on global TV (except to Australia, which would be playing The Conroy Hour Of Teletubbies, as usual).

The music blared a triumphant ecumenical fanfare, composed by the third-shift music team of Hillsong Tierra Del Fuego. The leaders began their procession toward the Cage.

Having miraculously drawn the wafer with his own name first (and fifth!), the Pope led the way, resplendent in something by Prada and the customary Manolo Blahniks. Behind him, the many other leaders trooped, waving and smiling, or scowling and pointing the finger of accusation, depending on their wont.

As the result of a ballot, Dawkins was compelled to walk a dozen paces behind the last believer (a badly-burned Australian pseudoacademic representing “Oops, I Caught Fire!” Ministries™).

At that distance, Richard could barely make out the mildew marks on the preacher’s robe and mortarboard, but he could hear the loudly-repeated “But, Lord, I prophesied I would be FIRST!” as the last of the believers followed the spiral ramp downward, ever downward, past the half-million-Euro-a-seat crowd.

The large iron door was open, and the Pope raised his leg in a jaunty almost-goosestep, waving his right arm high as he strode into the cage and hurried, as fast as dignity would allow, to seize one of the heftier crucifixes, an elongated El Greco-esque job with plenty of sharp points.

The music droned on, repeating the one phrase of Old Testament imagery four times, then a couple of staccato Hallelujahs, before taking it from the top again. With a thousand people entering the cage (the Anglicans had surprised everybody by their early agreement to send not only a woman, but an openly-declared lesbian, to the Death Match, although she was wearing one of Dumbledore’s own dresses, with a few darts to accentuate her figure) the filing-in was taking some time.

Finally, the bronzed, ash-flecked Australian passed the threshold.

Suddenly, a handful of people leapt from the audience to bar Professor Dawkins’ way. Another group wrestled to overcome the inertia of the three-tonne steel door, and slammed it shut.

There was a muffled crump, and small puffs of white smoke from the frame showed that the explosive bolts had shot home. The cage was locked.

Emerging from the group who had closed the door, a woman with a portable megaphone leapt to the top of a small speaker-stack.

“I declare us all the winners. Let’s go home and live our lives!”

Richard Dawkins walked away quietly while everybody’s attention was drawn to the crew who were welding the cage permanently shut.

Tags: allegory, Atheist Foundation Of Australia, Fiction, humor, humour, Jerkwads for Jesus