Cain and Abel

CAIN AND ABEL

After much shtupping in an attempt to produce an offspring, Adman and Even wanted to do anything but have sex. What had started out as a pleasurable activity had descended through obligation on down to something to avoid at all costs.
One day Even turned to Adman and said, “Ad, honey, both of us want a baby, but it ain’t happening, and my gynie is so sore that I got to give it a rest. What say we get some medical help?” (Even’s grammar left much to be desired as she hadn’t gone to college.)

So the couple traveled to Philadelphia and visited a Dr. Herman Schumaker, a reproductive specialist, who came from a long line of excellent shoemakers. Dr. Schumaker met several times with Even at a local motel, and nine months later Even gave birth to a son who looked little like Adman, but bore a striking resemblance to Dr. Schumaker (Well, he WAS a reproductive specialist!) She named her son Cain because she couldn’t spell, but mostly called him Sugar. Some time later, she gave birth to another son who was a spitting image of his father, and called him Abel, because she was dyslexic.

Cain became a vegetarian, like Dr. Schumaker, and Abel a voracious carnivore, like his father. Accordingly Cain turned to farming grain, and Abel raised cattle and sheep. On the holiday of Nish G’Tish, celebrating the invention of circumcision, Cain brought an offering to God, as was the custom of the time. He brought some things he had raised himself including corn, rice krispies, hash brownies, a roof, and a ruckus. Abel brought a rack of ribs that he had slaughtered himself, along with a side of cole slaw and some baked beans. God was totally pleased with Abel, but spat on Cain’s offering, and upbraided him, saying, “You cheap son-of-a-bitch! You call this an offering? Your brother brings me barbeque, and the best you can do is cereal?”

Then God turned to Cain and said, “There’s something I want you to do for me, to redeem yourself, if you are able. Ten miles west of Pisha you will find a horned demon with one big eye in the middle of his forehead. I want you to slay this demon, and bring him back to me, and your measly offering will be forgiven.”
“I can’t do that,” said Cain. “I’m not Abel.”
“Don’t put yourself down, young man,” replied God. “Of course you can. Have faith in yourself. I’m sure you’re able.”
“But God,” Cain protested, “I’m Cain, I’m not Abel.”
“Yes you are. Now stop this silliness.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are!”
“I’m not-he’s Abel,” said Cain, pointing to his brother.
“Okay,” said God, turning to the brother. “If Cain’s not able, how about if you do it for him? Do you think you’re able?”
“I know I’m Abel,” responded Abel. “How about if Cain comes with me for moral support.”
“Please yourself,” said God. “Just bring me the demon.”

So the brothers set off towards Pisha. As they got close to the center of the town, there was a horrible smell, as of burnt broccoli, and a frightening noise, like the sound of a really bad, teen, heavy metal garage band. Cain said to his brother, “Why don’t you go first, as you are Abel, and I’ll follow right behind.”
Abel took the lead, and Cain, trailing close behind, grabbed a large salami from his knapsack and hit Abel with a mighty blow on his head, cracking his skull open, and causing the leakage of much cerebrospinal fluid. He then painted a huge eye in the middle of Abel’s forehead, and dragged him back to appease God.

God hardly looked at the “demon,” but instead asked Cain, “Where is your brother?”
“Don’t know,” Cain replied, as he clipped his nails.
“Don’t know? That’s all you have to say? Your brother’s disappeared and all you have to say is ‘don’t know?’”
“Don’t know, sir?” replied Cain.
“NO!” thundered God. “Your brother is missing, and you don’t know where he is?”

At that moment, God turned to the “demon” lying in a heap in the corner, near his wife’s hibiscus plant, and noticed that it looked an awful lot like Abel, but with an eye painted in the middle of its forehead. God could hardly contain his rage.
“You demented pipsqueak…you spawn of Beelzebub…evil little twerp…you have slain your brother! You are placed under a curse and can no longer farm the soil. It has soaked up the blood of your brother, and will no longer produce anything.”
“Not even blood oranges?” queried Cain. “What will I do now for a living? I have no vocational training. I am not certified. I will become a wanderer and when the word gets out about what I have done, surely I will be killed.”
“You are my grandson, and much as you sicken me, I won’t let that happen to you.”

So God put a mark on Cain’s forehead that said, “Do not kill this man. You can torture him if you like, but if you kill him, I will cut your penis off. Signed, God.”