xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 
X  ________                   ____  ___                                     X 
X  \______ \   _   _ _ __ ___ \   \/  /               The Test              X 
X   |    |  \ | | | | '__/ _ \ \     /           -----------------          X 
X   |    `   \| |_| | | |  __/ /     \           by Wally Acapesak          X 
X  /_______  / \__,_|_|  \___|/___/\  \                                     X 
Xxxxxxxxxxx\/  Blender Corporation  \_/xxxxxxx[DBC011(IKGD)-WA.930122]xxxxxxX 
 
     					 
     Randall was skeptical, to say the least.  Ever since he was a small boy, 
he had kicked stray cats, spat upon adult administrative personnel, sworn 
that he was planning the death of a local game-show hostess, sat on his 
little brother, absorbed several not-at-all-natural drugs into his 
bloodstream, and used contraceptives in the firm belief that there was no 
God.  He had acquired a few friends over the years, and most of these friends 
had befriended him for the simple reason that they had no friends of their 
own.  Still, they had always detected a sadistic, irreligious theme 
throughout all of Randall's shenanigans.  And now they planned to do 
something about it. 
 
     The heavy burlap bag that Randall was in writhed and rolled around on 
the sidewalk outside the local Authoritarian Denominational Denomination 
Church.  At first, the chloroform stolen from chemistry lab had done wonders 
to Randall's personality, turning him into an inert lump of flesh; now he was 
awake again, though, and Jesse and Michael had to keep kicking him to subdue 
his efforts.  "If he's to see God, we'll probably have to take him out of the 
bag.", said Jesse, displaying his ever-present acumen. 
 
     Michael nodded in agreement, but replied, "We'll have to take him in 
first, though, and bar the door somehow." Michael always came up with the 
best plans.  In fact, it was he who had thought of using the burlap bag 
rather than the plastic garbage bag they had originally acquired for the 
task. 
 
     The door opened slowly, with a tremendous, ancient squeal, and the musty 
church air swarmed about Jesse and Michael as they dragged their friend 
inside.  "Aaaaaaah!" cried Randall as his head trundled over a bump in the 
stone-tiled floor. 
 
     "That won't do you any good, Randall.", said Jesse with an air of 
moronic confidence.  "You'll have to wait in there until we're ready for you 
to see God." 
 
     "Whuffff!?" cried Randall, his voice muffled by the barely porous bag. 
 
     Jesse did not respond to Randall's inquiry, mainly because he could make 
no sense of it.  Michael did not respond because he was busy shoving a 
sluggish wooden pew in front of the door.  This may seem to be an activity 
disapproved of by the church, and it may be justified to wonder why they were 
being allowed to do such a thing in the Condominium of the Lord.  The fact 
was, they were the only ones there; they had especially timed their plan to 
coincide with a church holiday; the fact that there was a church holiday 
meant that everybody got the day off from church. 
 
     The doors were barred, and Randall's struggling body was lying in the 
center of the church aisle, several yards from the altar.  "Let him out.", 
commanded Michael, huffing and wiping away his hard-earned sweat.  Jesse 
obeyed unquestioningly and untied the neck of the sack, allowing Randall to 
bounce out and writhe around on the ground some more.  At least this time he 
was able to writhe without burlap all around him.  Still, around his hands 
and feet were strung bindings of rag.  "Why am I here?" he said, his voice 
shaking with indignance. 
 
     "You should have thought to ask yourself that before, Randall.", said 
Michael.  "Now listen, we've seen you throw your afterlife away just causing 
all the immoral trouble you can, and we're about fed up with it.  So we're 
going to sit here until you see the Lord." Michael pursed his lips with 
self-satisfied smugness and sat down on the edge of pew. 
 
     Jesse coughed and said, "Sorry about the treatment, Randall.  Sometimes 
you have to do extreme things, you see?" 
 
     Randall simply stared at Jesse, his voice having taken a vacation. 
 
     "I really do hope you understand why we're doing this.  I assure you, 
you'll appreciate it once it's over." 
 
     Thoughts of smacking his friends' heads together crossed Randall's 
violent mind, but he tried to restrain his own basic impulses so he could 
rationally deal with the situation.  "I'm sure I will, Jess'.  But I think I 
already understand.  I see now that I've been doing things the wrong way." 
His face assumed an expression of contrition.  Jesse looked at Randall, then 
looked at Michael.  Michael shook his head cynically. 
 
     "No, I'm afraid that won't do it, Randall.", said Michael.  "We'll be 
able to tell when you really see Him." 
 
     So the three friends settled into their respective positions for the 
beginning of the long night... 
 
     Eventually Randall concluded that he would have to do something to free 
himself from this predicament.  He would have to convince his oppressing 
friends that he was seeing God.  This strain of realization led him to begin 
speaking in a mystified tone, a tone just loud enough for Jesse and Michael 
to hear.  "Is that you?" he asked, trying to make his voice sound sincere. 
"Is that God up there?" Jesse was in a state of half-awakeness, and he 
stirred himself fully awake when he heard Randall mention God.  He began to 
watch Randall intently and nudged Michael to wake up. 
 
     "He's saying something about God.", Jesse whispered to Michael.  Michael 
opened his eyes and sat up in a jolting, sudden movement. 
 
     "Hello?" Randall continued, his eyes rolled up towards the ceiling in a 
lost gaze.  "I'm really quite surprised to see you there, but as long as I've 
got you for a few minutes, I was wondering if you might help me a bit." Jesse 
and Michael leaned in closer to observe Randall, who pretended not to notice 
them.  "I'm hoping to prove your existence to myself, since everybody says 
you're there.  I mean, I think I'm seeing you, but how can I be sure you're 
the genuine thing, you know?" He pretended to wait for a response.  "Good, so 
I want to ask you this: if you're all-powerful, can you tear your own arm 
off?" 
 
     Michael stared in dumbfounded confusion; Jesse listened with intent 
concern, as if what Randall was saying was not only understandable, but also 
vitally important.  "I mean really, if you're that strong, I think you could 
do it.  Wouldn't you think that?" Randall waited for God to answer and then 
continued speaking.  "Right, so if you wouldn't mind proving it by showing 
me, I'd be much obliged, and so would my friends here." Jesse smiled happily 
upon being referred to as a friend, but Michael continued to find himself 
dumb. 
 
     Randall's eyes expanded into saucer-shapes.  "Wow!  That must've hurt! 
So you really can do it!" 
 
     "Gee.", said Jesse, nodding in agreement with Randall's declarations, 
though he could see none of what Randall was describing. 
 
     "Now try a leg.", suggested Randall to his absent god.  "Wow!" he 
exclaimed again.  "I'm beginning to believe you!  Try the other leg." 
 
     Michael was beginning to become convinced, too.  He was staring at the 
ceiling, trying to fathom what Randall was seeing.  "He DOES see Him.", he 
said in awe. 
 
     Suddenly Randall turned to Jesse and Michael, or turned as best he could 
under the restraints of his rag-binds.  He was shaking his head, as if in 
dawning understanding.  "I never believed it before, but I guess he really 
was there.  I guess He really did exist." 
 
     "DID exist?" asked Jesse and Michael simultaneously. 
 
     "Yes,", replied Randall, "I tested him by asking him to tear himself 
apart, and he did." 
 
     "So?" asked Michael angrily.  "That means he exists!" 
 
     "Yes,", replied Randall again in his same confident air, "and I believed 
him, but he tore himself up." 
 
     Jesse said in a pathetic, empty voice, "He's torn up?" 
 
     "Yup.", confirmed Randall, relishing the revenge that disillusionment 
was bringing upon his friends.  "Now if you'd untie me..." 
 
     Both Jesse and Michael were slowly contemplating the abrupt end to God. 
Jesse felt particularly disappointed as he released the bonds from Randall's 
hands and realized that he'd no longer be able to say, "God Bless You.", or 
"Thank God." Randall got up from the cold stone floor of the church and left 
as soon as he could. 
 
     God had been tested, and the outcome had become a victory of belief and 
a defeat of existence.  Jesse and Michael proceeded to spend the rest of 
their night wandering about, looking for a bridge from which they could jump 
to end their now meaningless lives, while Randall went back to his perverted 
sexual practices, illicit drug use, and homicidal plans. 
 
 
  xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 
 xX Copyright (C) 1993 by The Durex Blender Corporation & Wally Acapesak  Xx 
xX          All Rights Reserved. Text used with kind permission.           Xx 
xX                                  * * *                                  Xx 
xX  The Durex Blender Corporation / Box 381511 / Cambridge, MA 02238-1511  Xx 
 xX                  The Eleventh Hour BBS 617.696.3146                   Xx 
  XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX 
