If you don't read the first post in this series, then none of this is going to make sense.
Day three started off on the wrong foot. By the time I got up, sandwich had already left for work. There was a bowl of Glop waiting for Me in the breakfast nook, but I had to skip it. There was no time. With what we had to accomplish by evening, creation was going to fall behind schedule if a single minute of this day was wasted.
I stepped outside. The distance I created to separate Home from work seemed like more of a burden that day than a civic improvement. Walking to work would take far too long. I had to think quickly.
"Let there be public transportation!"
A large bamboo cage appeared. Inside, sharpened bamboo spikes protruded from every wall, including the ceiling and floor. There was no apparent means of transportation about this device. I must have slurred one of My words while ordering. I gave it another shot.
"Let there be public transportation that will transport Me and also not kill Me!"
A a pair of giant sea tortoises appeared. They had bridles, saddles, and reins. Their feet also couldn't touch the ground. They wiggled their flippers or whatever they were, but, although I admired their determination, it didn't help. I refined My request.
"Let there be public transportation with longer legs!"
A giraffe appeared. It didn't have a bridle or anything. Utterly useless. You can't ride giraffes bareback. I wouldn't even have been able to get up there if I wanted to.
"Let there be public transportation that isn't huge and that has normal length legs!"
A grizzly bear appeared.
It ran to the giraffe, stood on its hind legs, jumped, and bit the giraffe on the face, where it hung for a few seconds. This startled the giraffe, prompting it to back up. The tortoises saw it coming, but couldn't move. They sped up the rate at which their flippery things weren't doing anything. It looked like they were trying to take off.
It was a mess. The giraffe kept on going with the bear still biting its face. The tortoises couldn't get out of the way, and the giraffe backed right on top of them. Its left leg plunged through the middle of the shell of the tortoise on the left, and its right leg plunged through the middle of the shell of the tortoise on the right. Tortoise meat flew everywhere. Both tortoises were killed instantly (the giraffe was fine).
The bear, satisfied that it had made its point, let go of the giraffe and fell back down to the ground. It was momentarily stunned, but I knew it would be after Me in a second.
I ran to the tortoises, grabbed their reins, and tossed the leads back to the bamboo cage. My aim was perfect; the leads fell through some space between the bamboo and were now inside the cage.
I glanced over to where the bear had hit the ground. It had recovered, was looking right at Me, and probably wanted another nose to bite. We made eye-contact. There was a pause during which we just stared. I was thinking, That thing's going to mess Me up and not be public transportation, and I imagine it was thinking, Nose.
The bear lunged into a sprint. I ran for the cage.
I passed through the door to the cage, but had to do it slowly. I navigated the spikes and managed to find a position in which every part of My body was in immediate danger, but none of it was injured yet. I pulled the door shut and barely had time to latch it when the bear came up from behind.
It roared, probably out of frustration at not being able to reach Me for a good nosing.
I carefully turned around so that I'd be facing the front of the procession. It was the giraffe, then the tortoises its feet were stuck in, Me in the cage, and the bear at the back.
The bear roared again, and I saw the giraffe snap to attention. I grabbed the reins and held on, hoping the giraffe, with its feet stuck in the tortoises, and the tortoises' reins in my hand, would be able to drag us forward and outrun the bear.
One final roar, and the giraffe was off. None of us wanted to be anywhere near the thing. Only the tortoises didn't mind, but they were dead.
The giraffe started to walk forward as fast as it could, but that wasn't very quickly given how heavy the tortoises stuck to its feet were. My dreams of outrunning the bear faded, but at least we were making progress. As I hung on to the tortoises' reins, the giraffe, with its feet stuck in each of the majestical beasts, pulled us forward at the rate of perhaps one mile per hour. It took a step, dragged the cage forward several feet, and then it rested before taking the next step, dragging the cage forward another several feet.
Ten minutes later, the bear was still behind us, but it looked like it was losing interest. Where earlier I had wanted to outrun the bear, I needed it at this point because fear of it was the only thing driving the giraffe forward.
But I had a solution.
I leaned toward the front of My cage and grabbed a hunk of tortoise meat that had gotten lodged in the bamboo when the giraffe plunged its legs through the poor little giant sea tortoises. I turned around and pierced it through a spike in the back of the cage. It worked; the bear reacted as I'd expected, ramming the cage and roaring, trying to get the piece of tortoise meat. This, in turn, had the desired effect of scaring the daisies out of the giraffe, causing it to flee even faster. It was like someone had installed a giraffe turbocharger. There was a thunderous lurch as we sped up to at least one and a half miles per hour.
Satisfied with having solved My transportation problem, I relaxed during the rest of the ride and occupied Myself with not getting impaled in My cage or eaten by the motivational bear.
--------
Several hours later, the giraffe pulled the dead giant sea tortoises and My cage up to the work site where sandwich was looking over a set of blueprints. I didn't know what to do about the bear. I looked back to see what it was up to. It was tired, but still had that nose-biting look on its face. I couldn't get out like that.
I turned My head back toward where sandwich had been hovering. I panicked. I was going to call over to sandwich for help, but sandwich was gone.
I looked back again to see if I could talk the bear out of trying to eat My nose, but it was totally unnecessary. While I was glancing toward the work area, sandwich had already made it to the back of the cage, domesticated the bear, trained it to effect the appearance of anger for the purpose of motivating the giraffe rather than actually trying to bite noses, leashed it to the cage so it wouldn't wander off, and even had time to dress it up like a clown and teach it to juggle while riding a unicycle so that it wouldn't get bored while waiting for Me to come back and be driven around some more.
"Thank you, sandwich."
sandwich then brought Me up to speed on what was doing around work. It sounded like sandwich had managed to get the day going despite My transportation problems. sandwich had even had the time to put together a plan for the rest of the afternoon and evening. I wanted to know how late I was to work, but I didn't have a watch, though I soon learned that sandwich had taken a break in the morning to build a skyscraping sundial as a monument to Me. It was, as sandwich tells it, built from ninety-two million bricks of sun-dried mud and laid with sandwich's own two slices of bread.
"Thank you, sandwich."
According to the sundial, it was 2:00 PM. I had missed most of the day. Rather than trying to formulate My own plan, I ran with sandwich's.
--------
"No, no, no!"
I pointed to a spot on the ground.
"El diggo! Para there! Do you understand anything I'm saying? Blink once for yes; twice for no."
Nothing.
"Oh, c'mon! You know what I'm saying! El diggo! You know shovel? Is OK? S-h-o-v-e-l. OK? El diggo!"
Nothing.
"What is it? Non habla diggo? OK, listen... You... la grounda... diggo."
Nothing.
"Comprendio? Comprenda los noches? Aye! La cuchuracha! Chiceletes! Oh, for the love of Me, EL DIGGO ALREADY!"
It was sandwich's idea to hire migrant workers. I summoned them into existence and then offered them jobs. I didn't know what I was going to pay them with since I hadn't invented money yet, but they seemed enthusiastic to be hired. What they didn't seem enthusiastic about was working.
sandwich's plan called for the creation of a lake, and that meant a lot of digging. The migrant worker plan seemed like a great way to get all this back-breaking work done without having to compensate anybody, but it was backfiring. I decided to go have a chat with sandwich to see if sandwich had any input on how to get these guys digging.
"El stayo where you are-o."
Nothing.
--------
sandwich listened sympathetically to My report on the problematic implementation of migrant worker labor forces vis-à-vis the creation of a lake. sandwich told Me to go work on creating snow for a mountain sandwich put together just after lunch. sandwich would go talk to the workers.
sandwich told Me to watch the sundial. After thirty minutes had passed, sandwich assured Me, the problem would be under control. So, that gave Me a half hour to go work on the snow problem.
I headed toward the mountain, and sandwich hovered toward the labor mess. I kept My eyes on the sundial and watched as it measured the passage of time.
Thirty minutes, eh.
I got to work on snow...
--------
I had to hand it to sandwich. When I got back to the lake project, the workers were digging. Not only that, but it looked like they were already halfway done.
It was great having sandwich as an assistant.
"So, how'd you do it, sandwich?"
Confident, but not arrogant, sandwich.
"I'm sorry... did I get that right? You did what?"
Gentle sandwich.
"OK... these guys wanted a union, and you put one together for them. I gotta be honest, sandwich - I don't know how I feel about this. But, I can't argue with your results; you got 'em working."
Humble sandwich.
"Oh, I agree. You definitely got us out of this mess. Maybe this'll turn out well. So, who's the union head or master or whatever they're called? I should probably meet him if we're going to be working together."
sandwich.
"You?! Don't you think you're taking on a bit much, sandwich?"
sandwich, sandwich.
"Well, all right. You haven't let Me down yet, so I'll trust you on this one."
sandwich.
"That's a good idea. I'll get back to making snow. Let Me know if there's a problem."
sandwich.
--------
Just a few minutes (according to the sundial) after I had gone to work on snow again, sandwich came to get Me. I wiped the sweat from My brow and tried to figure out where stress had come from and if I had had anything to do with creating it.
"What is it, sandwich?"
Urgent sandwich.
"You need Me to come right now?"
Urgent sandwich.
"Lead the way..."
--------
All the running around that day was starting to wear Me out. I dare say I was getting irritable, but I kept My cool because, as God, it was important to My creations that I lead them and fill them with confidence. Still, the pressure was getting to Me. I counted to ten and made a mental note to invent Yoga sometime.
"Aright. What's the problem?"
sandwich.
sandwich, sandwich. sandwich.
sandwich.
sandwich, sandwich-
"Whoah! Relax, sandwich... take a deep breath. I'll introduce you to Yoga when I invent it, but, for now, try to stay calm..."
sandwich.
"OK. Uh-huh. Continue."
sandwich, sandwich.
"I'm with you. Keep going."
sandwich... sandwich.
sandwich.
sandwich sandwich sandwich sandwich sandwich sandwich-
"Hey, you're doing it again. But, I think I see where you're going. What-"
sandwich interrupted Me. This was new.
sandwich.
It was bad news. I did that counting to ten thing again, but stopped around seven because I suddenly realized I didn't know why I was doing it. It certainly wasn't helping anything. Counting to ten when you're upset is stupid.
"If I understand correctly, sandwich, the union is on strike because they want a radio. This is why unions are bad news, sandwich. Let's pretend like this never happened - give them a radio and their little victory so we can get back to work."
sandwich.
"Oh, they also want to get paid!? This is just great, sandwich. Just great. Now I have to invent money and the economy and... wait a minute - you're the union head - just negotiate with them. Tell them they can have the radio, but no pay. Tell them this offer is only on the table during this conversation."
sandwich turned and addressed the migrant workers. After hearing My terms, it took the migrant workers all of three seconds to fashion signs with blood-splattered images of Me on them and something in a foreign language written below. They waved their signs. They seemed angry.
I tried to follow the exchange, but everything was happening in this totally different language. A couple workers threw shovels at me. It hurt. I started to count to ten again instinctively, but caught Myself.
"OK! FINE! I GET IT! sandwich, get these guys their radio, and figure out how this payment thing is going to work."
sandwich conveyed the decision to the angry mob. Upon learning that they'd won, the signs of Me were replaced with signs that had an image of a haloed sandwich on them and something in a foreign language written below. They waved their signs.The workers seemed ecstatic.
They ran toward us and swarmed sandwich. I had been standing next to sandwich, but was pushed out of the crowd until I was on the outside. Nobody seemed to notice I was there.
The workers hoisted sandwich up on their shoulders and paraded him around, eventually marching off into the sunset in a cloud of dust and happiness.
I was alone again.
I made My way back to My bamboo cage and told the bear to get the giraffe going. We took off and headed back Home. The whole way back, I couldn't stop thinking about the migrant workers throwing shovels at Me and then parading sandwich around on their shoulders.
As the hours went by, I watched as the bear scared the giraffe, rode the unicycle, and juggled.
Sigh.
--------
The evening of the third day of creation was quiet. And not just quiet, but defeated.
The bowl of Glop I couldn't eat that morning was where it was when I had left Home. It had hardened, meaning that the Glop was now dangerous as well as inedible.
I grabbed the brandy from the cabinet. Didn't even bother with a snifter. Plopped down on the couch and started swigging.
Swigged for a long time.
"sandwich?" I called out to no one.
"s-s-sandwich? You there, lil' buddy? Izzz Me... uh... God. [hiccup]"
Nothing.
The last thing I remember was passing out on My faux zebra skin rug in front of the fireplace. As I drifted off, I was distantly aware of two things:
1. I had thrown up on the rug before lying down on it.
2. sandwich never came home.
"Goo... nigh... samch. [hiccup, barf]"
Nothing.