The novelette of What God Said to Paul is a dark satire of a young man living and struggling in the suburbs of Southern California with his work, his social life, his finances, and, most importantly, his spirituality. In this excerpt, we’re given a glimpse of the protagonist’s inner turmoil as he tries to get home before he makes a decision that sends him on an satirical odyssey that may save him or break him in the hot August summer of the Southwest.
Driving up the 55 North towards home that day was one of the most patience-pushing experiences you can experience: the roaring of automobiles passing you by, the uncomfortable churning of your stomach as you sit patiently, the stiffness in your chest from stress, the high temperature from the sun cooking you in your car with a broken A/C, and the uncouth, blaring of car horns in the congested artery of a lane. It was a cacophony and fever dream of unending discomforts and frustrations.
That was what it felt like for me, driving home, with my hands gripping the wheel tightly, forming into fists with white knuckles, as if I was ready to take on the whole world and just beat the living shit out of everyone who stood in my way. I wanted to get out of the car with an M280 SAW Light Machine Gun and unload on every vehicle. I wanted to blow up the 16-wheeler with an RPG-7 and watch the fiery red blast rise in the air with a tower of black smoke. I wanted to fist-fight everyone with bloody knuckles and exchange blows just so they could feel how I felt in every waking moment. I wanted the August heat to start the forest fires of Southern California and spread to every tree, every bush, every forest, every county, every state, every country, every continent and just burn everything; annihilate this poor excuse of what we call “humanity” that infects this universe. I wanted to set the cliffs and mountains of Damascus on fire and watch the inferno from a distance.