Nick Neercassel and the Case of the Incredible Shrinking Shagah-Master

A Bump on the Head

The Shagah-Master had hit a bit of a rough spot. After a glorious year of love, sex, and extreme toe titillation, the Shagah-Mistress had left the Shagah-Master for parts unknown. In the wake of the abandonment, the Shagah-Master's string of franchised weekly bible encounters and Shagah strip clubs had been targeted by the US Department of Justice for trafficking in bad theology and even worse sex therapy. As a result all 144,000 of the franchises had been forcibly shut down.

Hello, there dear readers; I'm Nick Neercassel, Theological Private Eye (TPE), i.e., I work for the Commodore of the Cosmos. I won't mention my salary because there is not enough of one to mention.

The celestial cell phone was playing 'A Mighty Fortress is our God'. Third Heaven Central was calling.

"Nick here."

"God morning, Nick". It was Gabe, SLB (Slightly Lesser Being) 456347.

I replied with a phrase we TPEs thought never got old. "Howdy, Gabe, what's up?" I imagined Gabe suppressing a laugh.

"It's the Shagah-Master, Nick. We can't seem to find him."

I was somewhat taken aback. Ol' Shag, due to his usually vibrant and outgoing personality, was what we TPEs called an ETF (Easy-To-Find).

"But Shag is an ETF! Don't tell me the GPS (God Positioning System) is on the fritz again."

"It's working perfectly as do all things in the Third Heaven."

"Don't give me talking points, Gabe. What's really going on here?"

"We think the Shagah-Master is on the lam."

"You mean someone is after him? Any ideas on who it might be?"

"We're not sure but we do know of three groups that would be interested in finding him. One, the Nuevo Puritanos, two, Hell Chamber of Commerce, and three, the Free Will Electronic Cigarette Company."

"Thanks, Gabe, I'll get on it right away."

I poured another cup of coffee and went to the Internet. First up, the Nuevo Puritanos. Luckily, their world headquarters was in Monetta (remember the old tune 'nothing could be better than not to be in Monetta'), South Carolina which was only about twenty miles from my home slash office.

The Flying Belt (my Eastern European built SUV) had just undergone its latest resurrection. New tires, new transmission, and a new fuel converter that utilized Old Milwaukee. Sales of OM had plummeted in recent years and Third Heaven Intercelestial had negotiated a special deal to help out OM.

I decided there was no time like today, so I jumped in the Flying Belt and headed for Monetta.

THE END

Nick Neercassel Conquers the Universalists

Dessert as Theology

Were we rushing toward our doom?

Hi,there. I'm Nick Neercassel,Theological Private Eye (TPE), i.e., I work for the Emperor of the Enigmatic Empire. The pay is abysmally low, the hours are out of this world (literally), but somehow there must be a reason for it all.

"I'm thirsty." Dala said almost nonchalantly. "It's obvious I'm no longer needed at the helm. What good is it being a pilot when someone else is in control? How about a beer, Nick?" I nodded yes then she looked at Prof. Zukuni. He nodded back also.

She grabbed three Polygamy Porters (its motto was or should have been, 'Bet you can't drink just one!') from the fridge. We drank in silence and sure enough that motto was on the money.

We discussed our options. Dala said, "If we land in one piece, I say we jump whoever comes through the door. We might as well go down fighting."

Prof. replied, "After attempting to fill out the IRS forms, that approach sounds tempting."

My TPE training told me something different. "I think we should see what they have to offer."

Dala started to reply but suddenly we came screeching to a halt. Wherever the tractor beam was taking us, we were there.

The tension in the air was palpable as we waited anxiously for someone or some thing to come busting through the door. But nothing happened so I asked Prof. Zukuni, "Hey, Prof., what can you tell me about this Rene' the Relentless guy?"

"Well, Wick,..."

"It's Nick."

"Well, Nick, in a previous life Rene' went by the name of Shony Allsurethinger."

Yet another Allsurethinger! Just how many were there?

"So what made him change his name?"

"Aztec Publishing Concern. His two brothers, Sony and Stony, worked for APC, but Shony not only had a head of hair, he also had his own ambitions. He wanted to start his own cult."

Dala handed us another Polygamy Porter. I replied to Prof, "I'm guessing he was somewhat relentless in his pursuit of developing his own cult. Hence the nickname. What did he call his cult?"

"Apple Pie Trinitarian Universalists."

I took a sip of Polygamy then asked, "What was his angle or tri-angle, so to speak?"

"While growing up, Sony, Stony, and Shony ate a lot of apple pies. They were very competitive triplets and were always on the lookout for one getting advantage over the other two. Each pie had to be cut in three perfectly same size portions. So when each piece was expressed as a fraction you had exactly 1/3. Yet even though each was identical in size, there were not identical in content. One might have more sugar, while one might have more apple, while one might have more crust."

"Just as the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost were the same yet different. But aren't all those finite comparisons?"

"Good point, Bick..."

"It's Nick."

"Yes, Nick, but when Shony realized that each piece's size could also be written as a decimal he saw something entirely different because written as decimal each piece goes on forever..."

I interrupted Prof. Z, "But yet all three pieces even when going on forever served one purpose."

Prof. Z beamed, "That's right! And what does it all mean?"

"God is a Decimal when He's not a Fraction and vice versa."

THE END

Why Wait?

If God is infinite in the past (i.e. had no beginning), there can be no one point in the past when he pre-determined the future (by the way, if time is infinite in the past, how did it ever get to this point?) – unless at some point, say 16 billion years ago, he decided it was “time” to plan the future and make events happen in such a way that his plan would be carried out to the smallest detail.

But if that’s the case, wouldn’t you have to say that before that point in time the future wasn’t planned? So he tried both ways (free will & determinism) – to see which was better? If the whole purpose of God’s love is have fellowship with his creatures, why did he wait billions upon billions of years to do so? If it was just a matter of him carrying out his plan, why wait?

 But – if it meant dealing with creatures who had free will and who could be quite unpredictable and difficult to manage (the phrase “stiff-necked people” comes to mind), then the wait might be more understandable.

Also – the fact that it might be necessary for him to lower himself to mortal status with all the incumbent inconveniences – also might expain the wait.

Also – the vast human suffering and misery, and evil unleashed on creation would no doubt also might explain the wait.

Also – the vast effort that would be necessary to bring stubborn creatures to the right way of thinking, believing and living – might also explain the wait.

But when God decided to do it, no doubt he "planned" to see it through.

Nick Neercassel and the John Deere Tractor Beam

Is There a Deus Ex Machina in the House?

We were approaching the Dark Side of the Moon. Prof. Zukuni put away the IRS forms, remarking, "When we leave here, we might as well travel to Pluto. Going there and back should take about 22 years. That's about how long it will take me to complete these insidious forms!"

Hello, Cosmos. I'm Nick Neercassel, a Theological Private Eye (TPE), i.e., I work for the Marshal of Mars. The income rarely comes in, the hours rarely run out, but somehow it's all worth it.

Before I could attempt, by some soothing, insightful remark, to alleviate the Prof's pain, my celestial cell phone rang. Well, thank goodness, it was about time I'd heard from Third Heaven Central. I was beginning to wonder if I was still a Class II Certified TPE. But it wasn't THC.

"Nick here."

"Hello, Nick. It's Jaime Marco, your literary agent."

"Not a great time, Jaime. We're on the Dark Side ot the Moon, attempting (probably ill-fatedly, I might add) to rescue Sir Alexander Thomson from the Rene the Relentless and his Big Bird Hordes."

"That's why I'm calling you Nick. I think you've got some really great potential theofiction there. We need to exploit it."

"Nothing fictional about it! We're risking life and limb here."

"Even better. I can see it now. We'll do a movie treatment and call it 'Nick Neercassel Conquers the Universalists.' It's money in the bank, son. What do you say?"

"I say you're crazy." I replied and hung up. I'd call Jaime and apologize for my rudeness when I got back to Earth. That is, if I got back to Earth.

Suddenly a loud siren-like noise went off. It sounded like a bat out of hell.

"What's going on!" I screamed. Dala screamed back, "We're getting ready to land!"

"Land on what?" All I saw out of the porthole was the blackness of space.

"I don't know," Dala cried back, "we're being pulled relentlessly by some kind of tractor beam toward that small, black dot."

I peered out the porthole more intently this time and yes, I saw the small, black dot we were relentlessly hurtling toward.

"Can't you hit the brakes?"

"Sorry, Nick, we're being pulled by a power unknown to modern science."

"How about you, Prof. Zukuni? Got any ideas?"

"Yes, maybe we can get a work travel allowance from the IRS."

I pulled out my celestial cell phone and called Third Heaven Central.

"God Afternoon. How can we help you?"

"It's Nick. Know anything about the Dark Side of the Moon?"

"We're drawing a blank here. It's been off limits to Third Heaven Associates for about 3 million years."

"Why's that?"

"Nothing official but the scuttlebutt is that the Big Guy locked up a bunch of Evil Associates there for trying to take over the Universe."

Oh, oh.

THE END