Frenemies

Satirical religious intolerance, stereotypical mysogynistic reference and anti-woke opinion.

The atmosphere in the boardroom of G.O.D. Enterprises spoke volumes, reflected in the number of Special Advisors present, amongst whom a nervous HR manager sat running a finger around his collar.

A dapper-looking individual with a Mephistophelian goatee sitting at one end of the table sighed. “Well? Is nobody going to set the ball rolling?”

His opposite number at the other end wearing an immaculate white suit snorted. “My life! You already set more balls rolling than a bowling alley!”

Goatee shrugged. “A job’s a job. Not one I would have chosen, but I was dropped into it - from a great height - if you remember. Anyway, you asked me to be here.”

The Boss snorted and looked at his agenda.“Religion?” glancing sharply at the minutes secretary, who leaned towards him nodding uncomfortably towards Goatee and whispered: “He insisted, sir.”

The Boss looked at the faces around the table and tossed his head resignedly. “All right. Religion. Who’s speaking for the most influential?”

There was an immediate clamour and six members sitting three by three opposite each other emphatically raised their hands. Two of them, heavily bearded and wearing keffiah, laid scimitars on the table to reinforce the point, glaring at each other with mutual hatred. 

The Boss regarded them suspiciously and then acknowledged one of the other spokesmen by name nodding amiably. ”Schlomo? Mazel tov," looking quizzically at his counterpart sporting pigtails under a circular hat. He shook his head sorrowfully, and turned his attention to the remaining two, one of them dressed in an expensive-looking purple cassock, the other modestly made up and sporting a dog collar and sensible skirt and cardigan. 

He shook his head, sadly. "Two by two they come. Free vill I give them and they can't agree amongst themselves," he said glancing outside the room where there was an amount of bickering amongst the remaining contenders, with skin and hair beginning to fly. Regretfully he drew a thick line across ‘Religion’ and looked pityingly at the spokesmen. "You don't even have to speak," he said heavily. 

At the end of the table, Goatee smirked knowingly with a ‘told you so’ expression.

Uncharacteristically, The Boss appeared downcast. “That it should come to this so soon,” he sighed, looking up as a vacuous-looking young man cleared his throat. 

"Well, it's been 6,000 years,” he wavered. “Surely that's a long stretch in ... " He tailed off under the withering gaze of the older members of the team. The Boss raised incredulous hands. "A Creationist already! Since ven did ve have a Creationist on the books? How old are you, son? No. Don't tell me. Still vet behind the ears!"

Unabashed, the youngster protested. "But 6,000 years is a long time."

The Old Man looked at him pityingly. "Son, 6,000 years is how long it takes to empty my bladder! Oy vey that you should get so old!"

The youngster subsided under the retort as The Boss looked around the table. "Vell have ve got any more smart Alecs? Vot about you at the end ? You usually got some wisecrack."

Goatee shook his head, regretfully. "Not today. Not appropriate."

"Huh. A conscience already," The Boss exclaimed. "A bit late.” 

He returned to the agenda. "Fire and Pestilence!" he barked.

A member proudly raised his hand. 

The Boss consulted his papers. "Vell. You really excelled yourself."

The member smirked. "Thank you," he said smugly. "We do our best."

The Boss glared. "Just because you can doesn't mean you should!" He flipped a switch and a screen lit up. "Look, I got the whole of the Southern hemisphere in flames and most of the rest down with a virus … Yes?" he said breaking off irascibly and looking at another of the younger members waving his hand for attention.

"Err, I hesitate to correct you, but shouldn't that be the outer edge? The way you have it ..." he indicated the globe on the screen "... everything would fall off the bottom and all that water they're pouring on the fires doesn't seem to be going anywhere ...sir ..." he tailed off to a series of despairing groans.

The Boss stared in disbelief "A Flat Earther! With my own ears I don't believe it!" He glared around the table. "Who's in charge of Recruitment nowadays?"

There was no reply but a conscious shuffling away from one stony-faced individual who sat staring fixedly to his front. The Boss harrumphed. "And I suppose that next you'll be telling me the Holocaust didn't happen! And just who's in charge of that particular area, as if I couldn't guess?'

Goatee shrugged. "We do what we do best," he said. “Alliances, treaties, a word in the right ear at the right time, an assassination here an assassination there. Doesn't take much. And our friends here," gesturing to the now sulking Religious spokesmen, "help more than they realise."  

The Boss glowered and Goatee shrugged. "I didn't make the rules. If you hadn't kicked me out we might have got on better. But them's the eggs you've got."

"Not your fault, you're saying?" The Boss said.

Goatee shrugged again. "Your words, not mine. And you're big on words I recall."

The Boss glowered. "Ve'll have vords later!" he said ominously as a dark cloud cast a shadow.

He consulted his notes again. "Vedder!" he called, to a sea of incomprehension. "Vedder!" He smote his brow in frustration. "Schlomo! Vedder! Explain vill you?”

Schlomo roused himself from his sulk: "Vedder? Oh, yes, Weather!"

The Boss raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Yes, Vedder! Vere's the Vedder man?"

The weather man turned out to be a supremely attractive young woman, which raised more than just eyebrows in certain quarters as she bent across the table to retrieve her notes.

The Boss regarded her appraisingly. "Vell?" he said. "The vedder?"

The girl smiled. "Well, with a cold front approaching from the East ..." she said, bringing up another screen ...

"... oyy, my life!" the Boss interrupted as the Keffiah-clad members bridled at a misinterpreted slight. "I don't vant a vedder forecast. I vant to know vot's wrong vith the vedder!"

The girl blushed. "Oh, yes, of course. Well, I can't say. I mean it's hot one day and the next it's blowing a hoolie. I said to Julie the other day, ‘I don't know what to make of it. There was one day last week when we had four seasons all at once. I didn't have a clue what to wear.’ And you can't get your hair done nowadays without it blowing out straight away. You have to wear a headscarf all the time, which isn't very flattering. Begging your pardon …" she said, deferring to the openly leering Keffiah wearing members. "My granny says she remembers when it was sunny every day, but she has gone a bit gaga poor soul. But the weather is changing, don't you find?" She paused for breath and looked gaily around to a sea of glazed eyes. 

The Boss roused himself. "Vell, I'm sure ve all found that very, err, revealing, " he said. "But it didn't get us anywhere. did it?"

"Didn't it?" the girl asked. "But I did enjoy talking to you," she said, simpering. "I've never been asked to address such distinguished company before."

"You don't say," muttered Goatee.

"Ve were hoping to hear about global varming and climate change," prompted the Boss.

"Ooh, yes, it is, isn't it? They told me about that. It went over my head, but they got rather excited. It's quite serious apparently."

The Boss sighed. "They? Who’s this 'they'?"

"Oh, I don't know. I never get to meet them. They write this stuff for me. I just read it. And wave my hands about."

The Boss turned accusatory eyes to the HR man. "Ve assume it was a  very bad day," he said heavily, shaking his head and turning to the girl again. "Vell, thank you miss. You can take your seat again, but could you ... you know ..." He brushed his breast bone lightly.

The girl glanced down, blushed, did up the buttons on her blouse, dropped a quick curtsey and resumed her seat decorously.

The Boss shook his papers with barely controlled anger and scored through 'weather'. 

"Next," he called and, glancing at the agenda, looked at the minutes secretary aghast. "You are joking. Who put this on?"

"Well, it is something that needs sorting, " the secretary whispered.

"And who's speaking for it? Can't say I recognise him ... her ... "

 "Them," prompted the secretary. "Best stick to the impersonal. It would cause a lot less unpleasantness." He withdrew deferentially.

Drawing an impatient breath The Boss grabbed his agenda and, sotto voce, muttered "I can't believe I'm doing this." Then: "Right. Sex! Who's doing sex?" 

After the titters had subsided, a member in a rainbow-coloured coat rose to speak. The Boss held up a hand to stay the address. "No. Don't tell me. Joseph, right? Ha, ha." He glanced around seeking approval of the witticism but received only a series of agitated grimaces and a drawing in of the shoulders as everyone strove to dissociate themselves from the remark.

From the member themselves there was simply a frosty stare. The Boss held out inviting hands. "OK son … miss ... The floor is y... "

His flow was interrupted by the minutes secretary who grabbed his elbow. "I apologise for interrupting," he whispered urgently, " but I think we need a briefing before proceeding."

The Boss glared. "Vy?" 

"Trust me, sir" he said urgently. "We have a complex situation."

"The only complex situation ve have concerns recruitment as far as I can see,” breathed the Boss, glaring in the direction of the HR man, now sweating profusely, then: "OK . Ve take a short break." 

-oOo-

Gathering together a select few, the secretary settled them in an anteroom where they waited for someone to take the lead. Rolling his eyes, Goatee took up the cudgels. "Look, there's no easy way to say this. Things have moved on since ribs and fig leaves. Sex isn't what it was."

"So, tell me something I don't know," the Boss sighed. " Bladder problems ve can cope vith. As for anything else ... "

 "How can I put this?" Goatee said. "Adam and Eve? Woeful parenting skills. Egyptians? Questionable sibling issues. As for the Greeks …"

The Boss nodded irritably. "Yes, this ve know, Oedipus and Narcissus and that pervert Zeus vith his swans. It's all that hot vedder and no clothes. Vot is this? A history lesson? I was there don't forget."

 "It goes a lot further than that, I'm afraid ... "

"It couldn't go much further " snorted the Boss. "Not that I'm passing judgement. Adam and Eve were about as blood relative as you can get, but you got to start somewhere."

"I'm glad you mention Adam and Eve. That's where it all began. What if I were to say 'non-binary, 'gender variant', 'genderless', ‘gender-fluid' to you? "

The Boss looked quizzically at him. "On balance, I would say you’ve had too much ambrosia. Vot are you talking about?"

"Oh, that's just the start," Goatee said gleefully. "What is it now?" he said, glancing at the secretary. "Forty-seven?"

The secretary nodded glumly. "And counting," he said.

"That's different sexual orientations," Goatee explained, as kindly as he could. "Never mind 'male and female made He them' you'd need a whole new chapter now. A list that long could outdo all that 'begatting'. 

The Boss glowered. "So, who's been interfering. Vos it you?"

 "Actually, no. It all goes back to basics, according to the latest scientific research," Goatee said.

“Scientific, Schmientific!”

 "That's what we expected you to say. But the fact is, it was all made wrong to start with. Putting it simply. YOU GOT THE BLOODY RECIPE WRONG AND IT'S COME BACK TO BITE EVERYONE IN THE BUM! "

The Boss started back, unaccustomed to such an assault on his integrity.

Goatee held up his hands in amelioration. "It's all gone wonky on the sex front. Nobody knows who or what they're supposed to be any more."

"And you blame this on me?" He held up his hands. "With these hands I made them. Do these look like kiddy fiddler hands to you?"

"No one's making any such claims. It's just that if you get the matrix wrong to start with ... "

"And you could have done better, maybe?" retorted the Boss.

"I didn't have much of a say. Anyway, I didn't have any hands - you had me slithering through the grass. But, hey, it had been a long and hectic few days. Mistakes happen. And if you find that confusing, try this: Men now give birth and women have got a full set of wedding tackle. Admittedly not everyone, but I wouldn't like to try and pin a gender on rainbow coat. I'd probably get it wrong and there'd be Hell to pay - they're a strident lot. Anyway, best let the experts take over."

There followed a bevy of psychiatrists, psychologists, psychoanalysts, gender reassignment specialists (with some horrific illustrations) and lobby groups with complex semantic terminology that soon had the Boss's head reeling.

"Enough, enough! My life, I vish I'd stopped at Birds and Creatures of the Sea. Would've been a lot less trouble. Right! Let's get on with it!"

-oOo-

On resumption, the mood was lighter. The purple cassock was in intimate conversation with the comely Creationist, the weather girl was surrounded by board members who had suddenly discovered a fascination with the weather … and the Flat Earther had turned a jug of water upside down to prove a point and was mopping up when the Boss called the meeting to order.

He started proceedings by making a statement. "First off, before the sex deposition, I'm advised that I may need to, no, vill be obliged to apologise for anything I may say or do that vill give rise to any offence, perceived, imagined or otherwise. Does that cover it?" He glanced at Goatee, who shrugged 'who knows?’ ''

 "Right," he said, turning to the multi-coloured coat " Let's have it son. "

There was a sharp intake of breath from the table and the sex spokesman shot a look that could have impaled anything mortal within 30 yards of direct line of sight. "For your information, sir, we identify as neither male nor female."

The Boss looked the spokesman up and down. "So, vot are you then? Have you got both sets of tackle? Because I can fix that."

The spokesman vibrated with indignation. "What we are, sir, is not a 'what'. We are a human being and command due respect. And we do not require 'fixing' ."

"With ‘due respect’ you don't command anything of me!" the Boss barked. "Do you know who I am?" pausing momentarily to reflect on what he’d just said.

"All that concerns us, ‘with due respect’, is who we are," Rainbow coat said, icily. "And for your information we identify as polygender - meaning that our gender fluctuates according to our needs."

The Boss looked towards Goatee in perplexity, who shrugged. 

"Vell, vot is it you want?" He asked, "whoever I'm talking to. "

"A change in attitude for a start!" snarled Rainbow coat, unfurling a banner and starting a chant, taken up by a number of equally colourful individuals who had infiltrated the ranks of the minority religious lobby in the corridor, and soon there was a demonstration taking place. "We can see that talk will achieve nothing," shouted Rainbow coat over the hubbub. "Only direct action!" and, so saying, lofted the banner and joined the protesters in the corridor until they were escorted outside by Security.

The Boss watched them being shoved out and raised his hands in resignation. "Vot did they want?" he asked. 

"Change," said Goatee. "But to what is never that clear. I told you it would be difficult. Good job Extinction Rebellion weren't around or there'd have been a riot."

The Boss shook his head in bewilderment, crossed 'Sex' off the agenda paper and turned the page. "And that," he said, "concludes Part I. The rest seems to be all yours," he said to Goatee who smirked and leaned forward. 

"To be honest - something that doesn't sit easily - I can't claim total responsibility here," he looked meaningfully at the Religious spokesmen. "All you have to do is wind some of them up and they go berserk. But, much as it pains me to say it, it's out of control."

"That sounded suspiciously like an apology " said the Boss.

"For doing my job? Never," retorted Goatee. "But, like I say, you can only wind up so many before you lose control and you've got nutters sparking other nutters off until the fabric of so-called society looks like a block of Emmental cheese. It doesn't help that most of the nutters are de facto leaders of the society they're meant to uphold. Doesn't say a lot for civilization."

The Boss looked at Goatee with grudging respect. "Maybe ve should put you in charge of HR," he said. "So vot you are saying is, never mind all the wars and the global warming, and the fire and pestilence ... ” looking meaningfully towards the relevant spokesman ...“ ve're all going to Hell in a handcart anyway? I hope you’ve got room.”

Just then, the meditative silence was shattered by an uproar outside. The secretary hurried to the window. "I'm sorry sir, it seems as though someone has leaked the meeting ." All eyes turned to the HR man. "Extinction Rebellion are trying to get in.” 

The Boss ambled over, threw away his papers and then unlocked a wall safe, pulling out a large remote control. "Vell. Let's give them something to protest about," he said, with bile, pressed the switch and, where there had been a skyline of high rises and bustling thoroughfares, suddenly there was nothing, leaving the HQ of G.O.D. Enterprises floating serenely alone in the universe.

“Thank you!” said Goatee, gratefully. “Now, can we start again?”