God Almighty. It puts the fear in you.
Jesus Christ. Again?
Yes, again. Don’t be a ***.
Oh please.
Jesus.
A hanging silence.
You know William Paley?
No. Go on.
Oh. Paley’s Watch?
******* go, James.
Uh, Paley’s Watch is a theory that the universe is too complex to exist by chance, and therefore there must be a creator. I mean, just like the existence of a watch presupposes a watchmaker ‘cause it’s too complex to be there by chance.
And you eat that?
Yes, or something similar. What offends you so ******* much anyway? So I believe-
It’s defeatist. Jesus Christ, the only reason you and anyone else believes this dogshit is ‘cause you’re ******* terrified of dying, and the reason a ******* graveyard puts the fear into your thick skull is ‘cause you want to join them when you croak. That’s what it is, it’s ******* insurance.
Another silence.
Okay. Alright, fine, it’s insurance. But I am playing this insurance, see, into my benefit. I believe in the creator, and if it turns out he’s watching me he’ll put in the good word and I spend my afterlife in eternal sunshine, and if he’s a scam like you say it is I join you in blackness or hellfire. I win either way.
Oh, very faithful, doggy. Arf arf.
Oh, for the love-
What’s life worth if you’re so sure where you’re going? I reckon I’d rather drink and steal **** and burn in hellfire than **** away my life in the service of some shitbird in the sky who may or may not exist.
Jesus, mother-
Stop ******* blaspheming.
********, James.
In which James and the Nameless Companion debate the merits of religious servitude versus anarchic hedonism.
