The first story I’ve written using one of my First Lines.

Our god is cruel and jealous, and we wish we had a better one.

Our god orders us to sacrifice our best cows in His name, but He never actually eats them. The carcasses just lay there, gathering flies and jackals and vultures.

Our god wrote a holy book for us, but filled it with a devious mixture of impossibly advanced truths and well-crafted lies, so that we never know what will happen when we follow His instructions. We used up most of our vinegar and baking soda in a futile attempt to brew a cure for leprosy.

Our god learned that the god of our neighboring tribe forbade them from eating pork, so he commanded us to serve bacon with every meal. That was the end of our diplomatic summits.

Our god sends us off to battle led by His “chosen” generals. They glow with holy light and cannot be touched by spears, but they also have a poor grasp of strategy and lead our warriors into obvious traps.

Our god demands that we meditate, under strict instructions not to think of a white goat.

Our god isn’t one of those sex-crazed gods (small mercies), but He also doesn’t let us have sex, unless we ring our tents with an embarrassing number of candles on the night of the full moon. We think He might be watching when we do it.

Our god let our most charismatic priest-in-training get poached by another god and become the prophet of Her people, who then spent three weeks chasing us across the desert in furious jihad.

Our god, after the aforementioned chase, led us to an oasis with ample fresh water and also smallpox.

Our god gave our patriarch a miraculous lifespan, but for the last fifty years, the old man has alternated between babbling incoherently and asking when he gets to go to Heaven.

Our god tells us that Heaven is real, but whenever He says this, His words carry a hint of a smirk.

Our god manifests to us almost exclusively when we are relieving ourselves.

Our god is petty and vindictive, and when the moon rises tonight, we plan to distract Him with an empty tent ringed by candles as we sneak away to join the neighboring tribe.