"So, uh, I guess this is your opportunity to inquire of me what you wish to know," God said with a smirk. His lightly stubbled face and slick appearance in his white 5-piece suit made him hard to be suspicious of. He was devilishly charming.
"Let's start with this: you prove to me that you're God, or I sic my beautiful reptile lover on you," Owen said defiantly. Blue clicked her tongue and snarled, rearing back on her powerful hind legs and locking her toe-claws back in attack position.
God chuckled. Jesus let out a nasally grunt and snort.
"Oh, it wasn't that funny, son," God said, chuckling and raising a passive hand of warning. "Don't make me nail you to a cross again," he said with a smile that suggested that he might enjoy it too. "But, I suppose that you are entitled to bonafides." God said "bonafides" with a strong, suggestive sexual confidence. He then waved his hand, and Owen's hands went straight to his groin.
"Whoa! What the fuck was that?" He said, grasping at his crotch. He stopped. His eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. He slowly reached a hand into his pants, and horror crept across his face. "My dick!"
God chuckled. "That little, 'ol thing?" He chuckled again.
"Give me my dick back!" Owen demanded.
God waggled a finger at Owen. "Nah, uh-uh! You didn't say the magic word!"
Owen growled and responded through gritted teeth. "Please, can I have my dick back?"
"That's better, uh, Owen, right? I'm sorry, I, uh, created so many of you mud monkeys that sometimes, uh, I forget who you are." There was a veiled psychosis behind God's eyes. They were the eyes of a viper. "But no," he said flatly, his unbearably charming smile secretly fanged and poised for attack.
Owen glared at God.
"On the other side, it's actually very distracting to have around," Jesus said assuringly, scratching his head through his messy black hair. "I, uh, get rid of mine for a while sometimes, just to 'clear the air,' you know?" He made a half-assed hand gesture of "spirit fingers" in the air.
God rolled his eyes. "Ah, fuck that." He took a menacing step toward Owen. Blue tried to leap, but she was held in place by some unseen force. He looked Owen square in the eyes and spoke in a low yet still charming (through its menace) voice. "You're going to want that prick back, am I right? And you're going to want it bad--" God glanced over a Blue, who returned a reptilian glare. "--real bad." God smiled and readdressed Owen. "I've got a proposition for you." God grinned.
"What's the catch?" Owen demanded.
"Catch?" God feigned insult. "Look, you want your dick back, then you'll do one little, tiny, insignificant thing for me," he said, stepping back toward Jesus. "I need you to kill John Hammond."
Owen's fierce demeanor cracked a little, and his comedian alter-ego Chris Pratt broke through briefly. "The dead guy?" He asked, smirking.
"Dead, yes," God said, holding a finger in the air, "but as you may have noticed earlier--not entirely."
"I'm not sure I follow." Owen resurfaced, and Chris Pratt resubmerged to wait until the next action-adventure-comedy role came his way again.
"Okay, uh, let's put it this way. Life, after death, uh, finds a way." God grinned as if he was making some catchy movie reference to a character he much resembled. "Especially on this island. Uh, it's special, you might say. Mystery boxes and ancient carnivores galore." God was very emphatic with his hands. "John Hammond died, here on the island."
Owen's eyebrow cocked, and his nose flared.
"Because he, uh, found a way, his spirit still exists here. Do you follow?"
Owen nodded slowly, but his resemblance to Chris Pratt made it hard to know if he even comprehended more than one sentence of what God was saying.
"Now, here on this island, is a man. His name is, uh, Dr. Henry Wu. Know him?"
Owen gave the same nod with the same blank expression.
"He is, right now, attempting to resurrect John Hammond from the dead. Still with me?"
Owen repeated his previous action.
"Like me," Jesus said with a big, dumb smile. He pointed to one of his wrists where a railroad spike appeared through it, squirting blood down his arm.
"Christ..." God said, putting his head in his hands and shaking his head. "Just shut up, will you, kid?" God asked.
Jesus crossed his arms. "That's all I am to you is a mistake, isn't it?" Jesus asked, bobbing his head up and down and looking unsure of himself.
"This isn't the time to talk about your whore mom, especially not in front of--" God motioned to Owen. "Now," he addressed Owen. The words hurt Jesus. "I need you to stop Henry Wu from resurrecting John Hammond, and if you can't succeed in that one, simple endeavor, I need you to destroy zombie John Hammond and perform an exorcism on the body so that I can forever destroy John Hammond's soul." God grinned.
"But--" God tapped Owen on the forehead. Owen could no longer speak.
"Now, we're not going to talk about your unmentionables here." God arched a finger back and forth between Owen and Blue. Blue blushed. "So, uh, be thankful for what I'm doing here. Give me one nod for yes or one shake for no."
Owen nodded.
"Excellent!" God said, slapping his hands together and snapping his fingers. Owen's voice returned.
"So, uh, any questions?" God asked, holding his hands out.
"Why don't you just do it yourself?" Owen asked.
"Great question, huh, dad?" Jesus said mockingly.
"Did you ever question why I was pro-late-term abortion?" He shot a menacing glance at Jesus. Jesus bowed his head and kicked at the dirt. He sniffled a little.
"As I was about to say: there are rules. Stupid rules. Stupid goddamn rules!" His anger flared, and the city of Lubbock, Texas, was forever plagued with STDs. "I would if I could, bitch," he said with a hiss. "Which is why I need your help."
"And why you took my dick?"
God chuckled woodenly. "So, do we have a deal?"
Blue turned to Owen and reached out a tender, clawed hand. "I will still love you, even without a dick," she said in the most genuine voice a reptile could mutter. In truth, a reptile talking would be a bunch of "psftty" hisses and sound like a seventy-year-old chain-smoking truck driver, but-- "I made the raptor talk," God said with a smile. "Do you like it?"
Owen was frozen in shock. None of this could be real, could it? His dick gone, the love of his life talking to him in a smooth and silky feminine voice, God extorting him for militaristic favors. It was all too much. He blacked out.
When Owen regained consciousness, he was alone with Blue in the jungle.
"There you are, sweetie," she said, running a clawed hand over his skull.
Owen groaned and sat up.
"So that's it, huh?"
Blue nodded. "He left us some stuff." She motioned over to a stack of weapons crates and a stack of binders.
"Let's get started, yeah?" She asked. She couldn't smile, but somehow Owen sensed a smile on her face. He looked down at his crotch ashamedly. "Don't worry; we'll get it back." She smiled again.
Blue read the binders out loud to Owen.
GOD (V.O.): Oh, I also, uh, gave her the ability to read and write in English and Spanish.
Owen armed himself to the teeth and helped Blue arm herself with custom combat armor and weapons God had created for her.
Owen was decked out in combat armor with two shotguns slung over his back, a grenade belt across his chest, a machete in one hand, and his signature rifle in the other. Blue eyed him and began to pant.
"That's so hot!" She said, sliding her hand down her underbelly.
To Be Continued...