One day, before the beginning of time, the Great God Bongo was surveying her dominion - which was the void - when the thought occurred to her that she held dominion over nothing, because in the void nothing had ever existed. She had no place to go because there was no place in the void. There was in fact, no other place either. And for One such as she, who craved the experiences and actions and adventures of all things material and immaterial, the situation in which she presently found herself did leave much to be desired.
All was not lost however. Surely - he thought to himself - something could be brought into existence. He was, after all, The Great God Bongo. And the matter of creation should be a simple thing. A natural ability for the Divine; flowing easily outward from his infinite fingers… and yet - he wondered - from where could this creation be summoned? From nowhere. For there was nowhere… and there was nowhere else either.
She knew that she must therefore create it out of the very fabric of that which already existed, which was… the void. And although her expectations were not encouraged by this assessment, neither was her resolve undone. This... is what she did.
He stroked the fabric of the void ever in the same direction as if he were rubbing his hands across the surface of a Persian rug, until slowly the fibers, electrified by his touch, rebelled against the perfect order and rose into a blister.
Immediately she realized that she had done exactly what she had wanted. She had conjured a grotesque ripple upon the waters of the sublime; disturbing the button-down perfection of nothingness until deformity had become its own reward. It was the first "Thing". A lump… a bubble… a stroke… a pulse… a rumple… a beat. It was the first thing that had ever existed, and she was so very proud of her creation.
And one must concede that it could not be compared with the wonders of modern technology, or the subtleties of fine art, but yet it was a beginning. Some "thing" as opposed to nothing at all. And, as with most new inventions, there are minor imperfections to be ironed out. But that, in an odd way, was the very problem with this case. For this invention, unlike the infinite multitude which were to follow, was by its very nature… an imperfection. And the damned thing was ironing itself out. The rug was falling flat , as it were.
No sooner had it begun to exist… than it ceased to exist. It was a momentary existence at best. In fact, its entire existence actually spanned no time at all, but merely marked a point.
If you'd like to read more about the creation of the world
according to the Great God Bongo
You can get a free copy of the Catechism by signing up below.