That afternoon I had Jonah climb out his window and sit on the roof to pray and read his bible. I had him do this because I think it's a neat thing to do, a very relaxing thing to do on a Sunday afternoon. I used to do it myself when I was his age. I still believed in God then, of course.

Of course.

He sat up there for a long time, gazing out over the antenna jungle that spread away to the blue sky. I had a quiet breeze come and tug at his shirt, muss his hair playfully. He closed his eyes and smiled, and just for a moment I gave him a taste of True Inner Peace. I didn't have to do this for him, but I did it anyway, because that's just the kind of God I am.

It doesn't really matter, because a few minutes later he did what is sure to ruin any moment of True Inner Peace. He opened his bible.

Ah, well. Time to have some fun with little Jonah.

He had turned, by no chance at all, since I planned it that way, to the first page of the Book of John. Here's what it said:

The Gospel According to Jonah

He blinked at it a couple of times. Then he read it again. Here's what it said:

The Gospel According to John

That's more like it, he thought. He read the first verse.

"In the beginning was 'the word'," it said.

That's right, thought Jonah.

"And 'the word' was with 'God'."

Ok.

"And the word was 'God'".

Good.

Jonah skipped down to the sixth verse.

"There came a man, sent from God, whose name was Jonah."

He frowned. That's not quite right, he thought.

"And he went to Nineveh the great Park one Sunday afternoon."

Jonah slammed his bible shut. He spent the next few minutes sitting in a confused silence. Then he opened the book one more time and read verse 14.

"And the Flesh became Words," it said, "and lived for a while among us..."

Jonah dropped his bible. It slid and bumped its way down the sloping roof and fell like a dying bird to the front lawn. His hands fidgeted nervously on the shingles.

He decided he could use a nice long drive.