Gog, Bob and GOD.

Gog was hurt but happy. He had spent the majority of the day hunting a huge sabre-toothed that had invaded his terrain. They were competing for food and one of them had to go as there wasn’t enough for two. So Gog had built his traps and sharpened his weapons but that hadn’t stopped the sabre-tooth from almost killing Gog. It too had lain in wait for him and he had a huge gash on his arm to prove it.

After an epic struggle with screams that could be heard throughout the valley he had triumphed. He had killed the mighty beast and had built a great fire in order to roast and consume his most worthy adversary. But the wound on his arm had kept bleeding. It looked pretty bad to Gog, so he had gone off into the forest to bandage it.

It was on his return to his fire that he discovered Bob sitting there eyeing off his meal hungrily. He had not invited Bob to share his meal so Gog, understandably upset picked up his spear and started wailing his outrage at the profanity and rudeness of Bob.

“Woah there, big guy!” Protested Bob, his hands raise pleadingly.

“I have not come here to eat any of your fine meal, I merely came because I heard a rumour of a great hunter who slew a great beast. I figured it was you, as I had heard of your mighty awesomeness, and yet,” he glanced at the roasting tiger, “I had no idea that you were so profoundly superlative as to kill a monster of such magnitude!”

Gog grunted. He didn’t understand all the words as Bob was known to have a smooth tongue, especially with the ladies, but he could guess the tone easily enough and sat down to eat his meal, placated for the moment. Tearing strips of flesh of the carcass, he ate slowly and kept a watchful eye on his guest.

Bob watched Gog craftily. He wasn’t just hungry, he was starving. He hadn’t eaten anything in days, but he knew there was no way he could take Gog in a fight as the warrior was more than twice his size. But Bob was smart, he had in his possession a weapon of more power than all of Gogs strength. He had invented it on rainy day in his cave.

“Tell me, Gog, how did you kill this monster?” Asked Bob innocently enough.

Gog furrowed his mighty sloped brow and concentrated. He knew his own actions in his own head, he was far brighter than others thought him to be, but the act of translating thought into words had always been a difficulty with him.

“Laid traps, waited with bait. Kill it with spear.” He finally blurted out with some difficulty.

“What did you use for bait?”

“Me.” Gog replied, pounding his powerful chest with his hairy fist.

“Wow, you could have been killed!” Bob said with mock care. “In fact,” Bob indicated to the wound on Gogs arm, “it looks like you almost were!”

Gog looked at his ripped arm with a shrug.

Bob looked around, as though making sure they weren’t being over heard.

“Have you ever given thought as to what would happen if you did die?” He asked, in a low whisper.

Gog once again, furrowed his mighty brow in intense concentration. After a few minutes, he shook his head and shrugged. It didn’t concern him really.

“Well there is this thing called an after-life. Have you heard of it?”

Gog hadn’t. This was very interesting to Gog because with the constant throbbing of his arm he had become increasingly aware of his mortality. He wanted to hear more of this after life.
“Well, you see Gog, there is this guy, like you and me called…” A huge rumble from his stomach drowned out his words and betrayed Bob’s attempts at indifference to the meal at hand. He clutched his stomach in pain and gritted his teeth, enduring the pain.

But Gog was intrigued. He quickly ripped off a leg off the roasting tiger and handed it quickly to Bob. Motioning for him to eat and then go on with his story. Bob grabbed the leg and started rapidly to munch on the cooked flesh. The smell had been driving him insane and it had taken most of his willpower to not try to grab a piece off and run away into the jungle.

He ate ravenously. Within a few minutes the entire leg had disappeared down his gullet. But Bob hadn’t eaten for days. He cracked open the bone and started to suck out the marrow from the bones, slurping loudly.

“So anyway, as I was saying,” slurp, slurp, “this guy called god,” slurp, snap, munch, “he’ll let you live on in the after life.” Bob belched loudly and wiped his face.

“You die, but if you’re good. If you do what he wants, he’ll let you in to this place called heaven.”

Gog was confused. He’d never heard of the place before. But, Bob painted such a vivid and beautiful portrait of this magical place that he had wanted to go to it there and then. He even got so far as to pick up his spears and ask for Bob to lead him there.

“No, no, it’s not a place you can walk or run too!” He laughed. “No, it’s up there!” Bob pointed to the sky.

Gog threw down his spear in frustration. How the bugger were they supposed to get up there above the clouds? Gog was most upset and trite.

“Oh don’t worry, god will take you there when you die. But first, he will judge you too see if you’re worthy of going to heaven.”

Gog beamed. He would be worthy, he was the greatest hunter in the region. He had hunted so many dangerous animals and could run for days on end. He knew where the best berries were and which mushrooms you should never eat. He could even cross rivers where his feet didn’t touch the bottom, he was a true warrior and master of the jungle.

“Oh, all that doesn’t matter to god!” Exclaimed Bob. “He judges you on whether or not you do what he wants!”

Well that wasn’t fair! Thought Gog, how was he supposed to know what this god guy wanted of him. Bob knew quite a bit about this fellow, so perhaps Bob would know. He offered him another piece of his meal on the condition that Bob would tell him more.

“Oh thank you Gog!” Bob said, noticing how he had now eaten more of the tiger than Gog had. “You see, I know what god wants! He likes me very much because I can talk with him sometimes and I can put in a good word for you if you want!”

Bob nodded vigorously that he did. But what could he give Bob in return for this momentous favour, what could he do for such a great pal? He looked at Bob eating and watching the rest of the roasting tiger. Though Gog hadn’t eaten that much, he could hunt tomorrow for more. The rest he could easily give to Bob, that would make Bob like Gog even more.

“Thank you, you‘re so kind!” Bob said, trying his best to keep a straight face.