I studied under the greatest intellectual leaders of our time: Plato, Aristotle, Kant, Hitler, Lenin, Reagan, etc. These men are legends in their fields, and are soley responsible for the continued existence of humanity. I worked with these men as if I were their own son. I took careful notes of their every word and movement. Consequently, I became unsurpassed in my knowledge and abilities. A god among men, if you will.

During the War of Northern Aggression, I performed my first miracle. We were all marching through a muddy forest when suddenly one of my comrades (name withheld to protect the innocent) fell before enemy fire. While I did not know this man's history, we had gotten drunk together many a night, and I considered him a friend. When I saw him fall it was as if God himself had slapped me in the face. I knew my friend was dead. In a fit of rage I shook my fist at the sky and said, "I will destroy you." No, I wasn't talking about the Union soldier who shot him, nor was I talking about the Union army.... I was talking to God. I swore on that day that I would destroy the Christian God, Yahweh. The god who allowed my friend to die.

Now how does one slay a god? I didn't really know the answer myself. I took a gulp of whiskey and lay down in the mud beside my friend's corpse to think about it for a while. As I listened to the trees creaking in the wind and gunshots in the distance, my blazing rage began to subside, and a cool calculating hatred washed over my soul. Indeed, I had killed before, many times, but those were just men. Anyone can kill a man. Anyone. But one thing I learned when I killed was that the best way to kill was to ram the bayonet through the body, as if aiming at a target behind it, and not at the body itself. The body doesn't exist -- you go right through it. I decided that in the same way I could kill a god.

Taking my Bible out (many soldiers carried Bibles with them in those days), I focused my thoughts. As I held the book in my hand I didn't think about godslaying, but rather non-godslaying. It is hard to describe, but it is sort of like thinking about something and not thinking about it at the same time. As I concentrated, the book began to become fuzzy and fade... my hand began to tingle. In a last gasp of concentration I closed my eyes.

When I opened them again I knew I had succeeded. I had killed a God. I had performed Man's greatest miracle.

Not much had changed, though, when I opened my eyes. In fact, I still held the Bible in my hand. But when I opened it I found it was different. Not in a major way, but in minor ways. No longer did the stories all make sense.. in fact many contradictions could easily be found. Some of it sounded downright crazy.

As time passed and the war ended, others began to doubt the Good Book. What had previously seemed logical had suddenly become questionable and almost laughable. A man who rose from the dead? Some guy living in a whale's belly? Crazy talk! People tried to think back and figure out why they had believed so strongly in Christ, but they couldn't recall. Something had changed, sometime. And they doubted.