The Last Laugh

by Christine Ritchotte © 2003

Agile monkeys darted through trees. A pack of permanently youthful lion cubs ran and frolicked together down the lush green hill. Adam watched, wondering why he had named these things and creatures thus. He might as well have called them rhubarb ... rhubarb, there was a name. Maybe he would use it later. At the moment he was feeling rather sleepy. Or bored. He lay on the sponged grass and drifted away with the clouds wondering why he'd felt so unsettled lately. He wished God would come to talk again. Lately God had seemed distant, even uninterested. It scared Adam.

Suddenly he screamed. Pain, pain, what was this? His eyes flew open as a seraphim floated above, calming him without words with its endless dream-filled eyes. Adam understood. Don't pay attention to what God is doing. A searing inflamed him, and then a place within him was bare and it was over.

"Pain, Father." His voice sounded strained to his own ears.

"Pain? It's as good as any. It will thenceforth be named," God said, intent on what he was doing. "Here is what you have been seeking. She is for you, and you for her." Adam turned and saw a bloody bone lying on the green grass beside him. "She?"

Before he could say more, a reddish tissue began wrapping itself around the bone, and from this mess grew another bone and another, and more tissue, and then organs, and sinews and ... Disgusting. But then came umber skin, and short-no-long hair, and a shape like and unlike his own in every way. Two closed eyes under arched brows, flesh where he was lean, a slender nose above full lips.

He touched her and she awoke. Her eyes were moss-green.

"I am Adam," he said. "I shall call you Eve." She did not speak.

"Do you like your name?"

"Yes ... I think I do," she said in a halting way. It sounded the teensiest bit like she was talking through her nose.

"Good." He was about to continue when she rose and walked off. Adam flushed, keenly irritated. He called to her but she did not reply. Adam, following, was amazed to find that she went with purpose, not floundering about as he had at first. And she was dismissive of him, treating him treated him like so much scenery! His disbelief maximised when he saw where she had stopped.

"Eve," he called. "There is something you should know about that tree-

"Oh?"

He trotted over and frowned. "We cannot eat of this tree."

"But why?"

"Because it is the Tree of Knowledge," interrupted a silken voice.

Adam was startled, and quickly moved back. The bark of the tree seemed to writhe, but looking closer he discovered a sly handsome creature whose body was sleek and lithe and whose skin seemed to glisten. Eve moved back several paces.

"What did you say? Tree of Knowledge? What is Knowledge?"

"Knowledge is what you do not have. It is that taste that slips away just before you can savour, the touch that your senses crave, and the aroma you long to smell." It sighed wistfully. "And you will never have it ... unless you eat of the fruit."

Adam glanced back at Eve. "I thought my heart would be full when I first saw her, but she doesn't seem to care for me, and I'm unhappy. Why would God withhold wisdom if that is the thing that will fill me?"

"Do you really think God would place this tree here just so, if he did not mean for you to have it? He is testing you. Will you succeed?"

The creature had come near, its eyes darkening, but Adam was distracted by Eve, who was sidling close.

"It is very pretty," said Eve. "What is it called?"

Adam realized he had not once thought of what to name this new creature. He smiled, bemused. "I don't know," he admitted.

"How about Sassafrass?" Eve said, suddenly clasping her hands together in delight and giggling a little. Adam's chest tightened and his despair lifted. Standing side by side their arms had touched; they turned toward each other, their eyes meeting and seeing for the first time. " Sassafrass it is."

A sputtering noise brought their attention to the handsome creature once more. It was whipping itself into a frenzy and muttering loudly. Finally it faced them, panting from exertion.

"I will NOT be called Sassafrass. It is unthinkable. Imagine, the humiliation I am to endure at the hands of these ... these ... HUMANS!"

"Humans!" they shouted.

"Yes!" Adam exclaimed. "By golly, I like it, Sassafrass! Humans it is."

Eve poked him in the ribs. It irritated the empty spot, but she couldn't know that. He smiled. "Human," she said, chortling.

It was days later before either of them caught sight of the long lithe creature that had made them realize their love for each other by the apple tree. Upon his appearance whoever spotted him first would scream in delight and run to fetch the other, shouting, "It's dear old Sassafrass! How are you, old chum?"

They did not mind the sputtering; they had become accustomed to his noises. "Did you ever see such a creature before, Adam?" Eve said one day.

"No darling, I guess I never have. Not that he ever says much, just spits and hisses mostly. But he's a good fellow."

"Isn't it lovely that he always reminds us of each other? Why I don't think we've been far parted since we first saw him."

"Yes, although it's been some time since I've seen him. Maybe he doesn't appreciate your human kisses like I do." He gave her hair a fond rumple.

At these last words there came a thunderous booming sound from out of nowhere, and soon it became clear that it was a very loud, very long laugh. It was quite contagious, and before long all the seraphim were laughing, and so were Adam and Eve.

x x x




Read more Flash Fiction?
Chat about this story on our BBS?
Or, Back to the Front Page?