Zog looked up the valley to where the retreating glacier was melting, sending torrents of water rushing down the swollen river that ran past his cave. He had recently sacrificed his last child in an effort to appease God and now he was the only one of his tribe left. He knelt on the stony ground, put his hands together and prayed. 

“Our Father, which art in heaven, please hear my prayer. This Holy Communion, you have demanded of us, has seriously depleted the population.” 

Above his head the clouds parted and a stern, bearded face looked down on him. “Hmm, verily I think you are right,” said God. “In future I will accept the substitution of foodstuff, which I will change into human flesh and blood by the miracle of transubstantiation.” 

“Thank you, oh great and compassionate God. It might have been better to have shown your mercy a bit earlier on – like before the sacrifice of most of the tribe.”

 

“Are you questioning the Lord thy God?” The bearded face looked even sterner.

 

“Oh no, no, of course not,” Zog bowed low, anxious not to upset the vengeful god that was glaring down at him.

 

It took the unfortunate Neanderthal several minutes to pluck up the courage to ask another favour. “Talking of miracles, oh Lord - would it be within your merciful goodness to stop global warming? The temperature is rising. Soon all the ice-sheets will be gone and the Cro-Magnons will take over

Europe.” 

God shook his head pityingly. “How often do I have to tell you that I don’t interfere with nature.” 

“But why not? The Cro-Magnon worship nature-gods and things are definitely going their way.” 

“What doth it profit a man to gain the whole world if he loseth his soul?” 

“Yea, well, if you can’t stop global warming what about killing the Cro-Magnons?” 

“No.” 

"Will you send me a nice fertile woman?” 

“No.” 

“Will you save the mammoths?” 

“No.” 

“Will you send me a plump rabbit for supper?”

 
“No.” 

“Er – remind me again why I worship you?” 

“You worship me so your soul will be saved. For I sent my beloved son to be a sacrifice for your sins, so all who believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life.” 

Zog lifted his eyes to the cross, fashioned from an elk’s antler, which hung above the door of his cave. “Thank you Lord,” he said, genuflecting reverently. “It’s a shame he didn’t last longer.” The cross was a crude representation of the Cro-Magnon bow and arrow, which had killed Jesog. “If you had showed us how to make bows and arrows," continued Zog, "we might have put up a better fight.” 

God sighed, his breath curling around Zog like a breeze. “Have you learnt nothing? You must learn to love your enemies and do good to those who hate you.” 

“Is that before or after they’ve  run you through with a spear? I’m sorry God, but this whole religion thing isn’t working.  What with global warming and inferior technology, the Neanderthal race is dying out. The worst of it is, when we’ve gone, there’ll be nobody left to worship you.” 

“Don’t worry,” said God. “I’ll wait a few thousand years, then send another son to be sacrificed. Let’s hope that modern man lasts a bit longer than you did.”  He raised his hand in a two fingered gesture that may or may not have been a blessing. 

“Amen,” said Zog as the clouds closed.