"If ya please, Sir," said the wolf, "I know you're busy and all, but…I was hopin' I could talk with ya…"

Aslan sat on the balcony of Cair Paravel, a paw on the railing and his gaze on the sea. The Splendour Hyaline was a speck on the shimmering water, its jolly blue sail a dot on the horizon. "Just look at them!" said the Lion. "The Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve coming home from another adventure, and what joy they will bring when they land."

"Aye," said the wolf. "Actually, Sir…that's what I was hopin' to speak to ya about…Ya see, I was hopin' to talk to ya about my letter…about a position in yer army..."

The Lion went so cold that the wolf could feel it.

"I sent it on the twenty-first—"

"I know of it," said the Lion. "Oreius filled me in on the particulars...said it was a bore to read..."

The wolf went awkward. "I'm not a writer, Sir...I'll admit that...but at least the message got through."

"It took long enough," said Aslan. "But what matters is that his message got through."

"It did, Sir," said the wolf. "In fact…that's why I wanted to see ya…"

The Lion's annoyance was strong enough to be felt.

"Sir, I just wanna know why my request was denied—"

"You have a limp," said the Lion. "You're no good to Oreius in that condition."

"I know ya have a potion," said the wolf. "I know what it can do: It can heal me of my limp."

"That cordial is used in emergencies, nothing more."

"I-I'm aware of that, Sir—"

"So you come to me, asking an exception for you?"

The wolf's face went twisty, as if he had been slapped. "If it wouldn't be any trouble, Sir…"

"Trouble?" The Lion let out a hint of a growl. "Why would you be worth the trouble?"

The wolf gave him a misty-eyed smile. "Because I love ya, Sir...Because yer the greatest thing to happen to Narnia—"

"I know what I am," said the Lion. "But what are you? A lame and useless fool begging people for a position in the country?"

"What else am I supposed to do? The rest of the world doesn't want me or anythin' to do with me."

"Obviously," said the Lion. "You can't sing, you can't dance, you can't play an instrument, you can't perform a role in a play. You have no splendor or majesty about you, unlike King Peter. You have no extraordinary tale of redemption, unlike King Edmund. You have no sense of reason, unlike Queen Susan. You can't get anyone to listen to you, unlike Queen Lucy, who can turn the crowds with a single sentence out of her mouth. And the rest of Narnia? No constable would make you an officer. No judge would make you a clerk. You couldn't get your enemies to notice you even if you tried."

The wolf choked on a sob. "I wouldn't 'ave wanted 'em to notice me. I cursed the White Bitch. I resisted Maugrim—"

"You fool," said the Lion. "The Witch didn't even know you were alive. Maugrim had to tell her about you; he said you were a useless idiot. If you can't even turn the heads of my enemies, and you can't even turn the heads of my friends, why should you turn my head?"

The wolf blinked back tears. "All I ever wanted was to be in yer service. I've been readin' the stories of ya since I was a pup. I've been longin' for the day when you'd return, so I could look ya in the face and say, 'Here I am, Sir. Put me to use.' But if yer not gonna put me to use, who will? If yer not gonna help me, who can I turn to?"

The Lion let out a scoff. "You should have spoken with the Kings and Queens before they set sail."

"I did, Sir," said the wolf. "King Peter said I was an extra name in the census. King Edmund said he couldn't help me, as I wasn't a legal matter. Queen Susan said there wasn't a place for me in the castle. Queen Lucy gave me a look of 'Oh, poor pitiful you,' but she wouldn't help me, neither—"

"Then we have nothing more to talk about." The Lion lifted his huge bulk off the balcony floor and padded into the castle on silent paws. "The Kings and Queens are about to land. I'd invite you, but I'd hate for you to make a scene."

The wolf's face twisted into a scowl. "I have waited five years fer ya to come back, and this is what I did it fer? A Lion who wants nothin' to do with me? A Lion who wants nothin' but the folk who make 'im look good? I thought loyalty meant somethin' to ya, but obviously I was wrong. All ya care about is pomp and majesty and anyone who does ya favors."

"You're even more boring when you talk," said the Lion. "I suggest you find someone who can use a fellow like you."

The wolf shot him a glare. "If yer not gonna help me, I reckon I have to!"

The Lion carried on down the hall, his thunderous voice dropping to a murmur. "I reckon you will."

A/n: Right now, you're probably thinking, "This isn't real life! This isn't the God I know! And this definitely isn't how He would treat someone."

But let me challenge you on that.

Although God so loves the world, that doesn't stop Him from playing favorites. Many extremely devout Christians are hindered by chronic illness, physical handicaps, mental handicaps, faith crises, and personal dysfunction. Worse, God selects some of these people to be healed, used, and empowered to do great things while He leaves others to languish in misery and despair. As if that weren't bad enough, those people are often overlooked, mistreated, or marginalized by other Christians, and He often does nothing to stop it. This means He's either weak, unconcerned, or happy to play favorites; and since He has the strength to work everything into His plan (Ephesians 1:11), and since His honor roll of special snowflakes keeps bringing glory to Him (cf. John 9:3), the only thing I can reasonably conclude is that He's happy to play favorites.

Even if the God of the Bible does exist—and I certainly don't think He does—I would still see massive problems with God's treatment of humanity, and I would feel compelled to put those problems on people's radar. If people know about them, they can do something about them. And if they do something about them, they can make life a little better for those who desperately need an extra dose of good.

That's what I hope for.