I didn’t want to get carried away on the first day of my journey. Besides, I was already tired from a week of preparation for my trip. I just wanted to try out the time machine and get some rest. I planned to spend my first “knight” out in Denver, Colorado. So I set the date/time/destination controls on the time-travel module, which was located on the dash in the Corvette, for a couple of months into the future and for Denver. Little did I know then that it would turn out to be a “knight” to remember!

After I pressed the green Go button, I disappeared. Then about as fast as I could blink, the car, with me in it, reappeared. The glossy, metallic-red, 2007 Vette “energized” on a busy street near downtown Denver.

Everywhere I looked, there were people and cars—stop-and-go, bumper-to-bumper driving. Willie had mentioned that I might get caught up, at times, in rush-hour traffic when I visited bigger cities. He wasn’t kidding. After driving in Hollywood, though, the crowded streets in Denver seemed mild by comparison. Besides, my nerves had calmed down when I realized that the time machine was functioning correctly.

I had decided to stop at the first motel I saw. But first I wanted to get something to eat—just a hamburger or two and a drink that I could take with me to my room.

As I drove down the road, I saw a Burger Castle directly ahead. “My kind of place,” I said to myself. I didn’t feel like getting out of the car and having a bunch of people ask me why I was wearing a full suit of armor. So when I pulled into the fast-food joint, I drove around to the drive-up window.

“I’ll have that #1 Knight Meal Deal and a large Pepsi®,” I said, after I stopped at the menu-speaker stand.

“Do you want our special ‘Guinevere’s Tartar Sauce’ with those fries, Sir?””

“Yeah, I guess. I didn’t know that Guinevere made a tartar sauce.”

“What did you say, Sir?”

“Never mind! Yes, I’ll try the tartar sauce.”

“Please pull up to the first window.”

I did, but I forgot to take off my helmet. When the cute little brunette handed me my order, she laughed and asked, “Why are you dressed up as if you were Sir Lancelot or somebody? Are you on your way to a Halloween party in the final week of July?”

“Sweetheart, it’s a long story. You might get the chance to hear or to read about it someday,” I replied, getting in the last laugh.

After I picked up my fast-food order, I drove about two blocks down the street and pulled into the Lost Knight Motel. I checked into my room, laid my helmet down on one of the bedside night tables, and sat down to eat my dinner.

Then I unloaded my duffel bag. I knew that something was missing. . . . Suddenly, it dawned on me. I raised my hands high above my head and said, “Damn! I forgot to pack my toothbrush!” The bad taste in my mouth from that damn Guinevere’s Tartar Sauce should’ve been my first clue that my journey was destined to get off to a sour start.

Sure enough, things got worse. My stomach started aching. I wanted to get some badly needed rest and overcome my stomach ache, so I leaped, spread eagle and face up, right in the middle of my king-size bed.

Several hours elapsed. I had experienced more and more stomach pain as the time slowly ticked off the clock. Then I developed a slight headache. I got up and I went into the bathroom. I needed something to take for my aches and pains. When I reached above the sink and opened the medicine cabinet, I said to myself, “Ah, here’s a bottle of cod liver oil.” I took a couple of swigs. “I need a fast acting laxative,” I said to myself. “I hope that this will do the trick.”

I dampened a towel and wrapped it around my forehead. Then I went back to bed. I tossed and turned for over an hour. I just couldn’t go to sleep.

All at once I opened my eyes, and I looked out of the window. Superman (the late Christopher Reeve, out of respect for his leading roles in the Superman movies) was outside on the sidewalk. He had been “examining” my tummy through the window with his dual X-ray vision.

Seeing Superman, in person, for the first time was strange. With his broad shoulders, well-defined pectoral and abdominal muscles, together with his bulging biceps and calf muscles—all stretching that predominately blue spandex suit—and that long, streamlined, red, satin cape, the Man of Steel appeared to be all that he was advertised to be—“more powerful than a locomotive, faster than a speeding bullet, and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.”

Curiously, there was a big mirror on the ceiling directly over my bed. As both of Superman’s red eye-beams focused on my stomach, I looked into the mirror and saw a reflection of what was ailing me.

Superman’s X-ray vision showed that my tummy and intestines were filled with: fear, doubt, worry, unhappiness, depression, frustration, resentment, anger, hatred, etc. Superman could see that I was hurting, but that damn “S” man didn’t come to my rescue! Instead, he flew away as if he were a coward and as if he were fleeing from a fight.

“I really feel bloated,” I moaned, holding my stomach firmly with both hands. “God, I wish that someone would help me!”

Instantly, I saw the image of a very sexy lady. She stood just a few feet off to the right side of my bed. The dazzling longhair blonde reminded me of Jessica Simpson, one of my favorite movie stars. In fact, after I studied her shapely figure for a few seconds, I was pretty certain that she was Jessica Simpson!

With a look of bewilderment etched on my face, I asked, “Are my eyes deceiving me, or are you Jessica Simpson?”

“Sir Wantsalittle Morefromlife, your eyes are and they are not deceiving you.” Now, I really was confused. Jessica or whoever continued, “You see, Wantsalittle, it appears to you that I am Jessica Simpson. But I would rather that you call Me by My real name—God!”

I got more and more confused by the second. I asked, “You mean ‘God’ with respect to the idea that You are acting out the part of God?”

“No, I mean ‘God’ as a matter of FACT! The truth is, Wantsalittle, I’ve been watching just about every move that you’ve made since that day in Camelot—the day you proclaimed that you were going on a quest. I recall that you said something about your wanting to ‘become more worldly’ and to ‘feel and act like a king.’ Do you know what I’m referring to?”

“There must be something wrong here!” I exclaimed. “For God’s sake, the Lord isn’t a woman, is He . . . e-r-r, is She?”

God giggled and replied, “Wantsalittle, your words reflect your chauvinistic attitude. What makes you think that ‘God’ couldn’t be a woman?”

My mouth and eyes were wide open, and I was simply speechless for a few moments. Then I gathered what few senses I had left and tried to answer God’s question. “I never considered the idea that our ‘Supreme Being’ or ‘the Creator’ or ‘the Lord’ or ‘God Almighty’ could be a female! God, You’re certainly an eyeful of heaven! I just adore that half-unbuttoned, rather-revealing, pink blouse. You certainly are well-endow—”

God interrupted me before I could complete my well-intended compliment. “Now I’m beginning to understand why your birth name was ‘Wantsalittle Morenooky.’ Please keep in mind just who it is that you are speaking with, okay?”

I was a little embarrassed about trying to flirt with the Lord. I thought about adding some nice comments with respect to the rest of Her ravishing physique and sexy attire—things such as: Her distinguished, entrancing, light-blonde hair; Her short, cut-just-above-the-knee, powder-blue skirt, with a lengthy left-side slit; and Her long, slender, stunning legs. But I decided not to push my luck. Instead, I asked, “Why do You look so much like Jessica Simpson?”

“Wantsalittle, did you know that I, being God, can read your mind? In your thoughts and while your eyes were ‘covering all of the bases,’ how come you failed to recognize My shiny, pink, three-inch-heel, genuine-leather pumps?”

“Oh, Lord, I’m so sorry! But You must admit that You are a real ‘knockout’!”

“Wantsalittle, thanks, I think, for that nice compliment. I wanted to appear before you in a human form. I knew that Jessica Simpson was one of your favorite entertainers. So I thought that I would sort of clone Jessica and give you somebody to talk with who could be most appealing to you. Tell Me, Wantsalittle, does this body and My meticulous choice of costume fill the bill?”

“It sure does! I don’t know whether to address You as ‘God’ or as ‘Goddess’!”

Earnestly amused, the Lord roared in laughter at my last remarks. Then She said, “By the way, Wantsalittle, you really don’t know, for certain, whether or not that God is a male or a female. And I’m not going to tell you. You’ll just have to keep wondering, like everyone else. Let Me just ask you this: Really, does it matter?”

“No, I guess not. It is more fun, though, that You are presenting Yourself to me in the persona, including diction and voice, of Jessica Simpson. Thank You, Lord, for Your great sense of humor and for Your utmost consideration!”

“You’re very welcome, Wantsalittle. Now, let’s discuss some more serious matters. You are traveling around in Willie C. Light’s time machine, in hot pursuit of your praiseworthy, coveted goals; at least, you are in search of those adventures that may provide you with the knowledge and the experience necessary for you to fulfill your commendable dreams. As you embark on your quest, you could become a legend in your own ‘time,’ as well as other ‘times.’ On the bottom line, I have a vested interest in your ultimate success.”

I wasn’t sure what the Lord meant by “vested interest.” I asked, “God, why is my success so important to You?”

“To begin with, I’d like to see anyone achieve to the best of his or her abilities and live a happier, more prosperous life on earth. People look up to, admire, and are motivated by good example-setters. I’ve noticed that your intentions have always been in good order.”

“Well, I’m glad that I’ve done something right!”

“The idea that you’re upset about such things as ‘authoritarian leadership’ and a form of government that ‘deprives the common people’ shows Me that, by and large, you’re conscientious and that you care about the welfare of your fellow man. I’d like for you to become a great example-setter. But you’ve got some rough edges. In particular, I’m concerned about the facts that you drink way too much, that you can’t control your bad temper, and that you frequently display aggressive, socially unacceptable patterns of behavior.”

“Yes, I’ll admit to those faults and a few others.”

“Wantsalittle, I haven’t mentioned, up to now, some of your other noteworthy personal problems—your generally sexist-minded approach to women, for instance.”

A bit embarrassed and a little angered, I shouted, “Good God, Lord! Is there anything that You don’t already know about me?”

The Lord’s mood and disposition suddenly took a downward turn. Her big, bewitching, brown eyes now reflected traces of red. God squinted, slightly, and glared at me through demoniac, piercing eyes. Then She shouted, “I guess that you failed to hear Me when I said it was time to talk about ‘some more serious matters’! Wantsalittle, it may appear to you that I am just another pretty face—someone who you can easily joke around with, perhaps make fun of, or tease by way of your snide, sometimes sexually inferring quips and comments. By God, Sir Wantsalittle Morefromlife, I am your Lord! God Almighty! Your Creator! Young man, it wouldn’t hurt for you to show Me a little more respect!”

As God yelled and screamed at me in an explosive, thunderous outburst, I noticed that She had a bit of a bad temper, Herself! I did my best to disguise the excruciating pain in my stomach. I would have been embarrassed for God to know all of what was ailing me. But I should have known that I couldn’t keep any secrets from the Lord.

God leaned back on the heels of Her bright-pink pumps and took a couple of deep breaths. I really wanted to poke fun at Her jaw-dropping frontal pose, but I wasn’t sure that She had finished bawling me out. Besides, I was still too scared to make any sarcastic, sexually pointed, or should I say “two-pointed,” remarks about Her broad, eye-popping, protruding posture as She profoundly inhaled those two gigantic gulps of air.

When the Lord calmed down, She said, “Wantsalittle, it looks as though you’re really hurting inside, and I don’t think that you’ve got a case of the stomach flu. As I see it, some of your negative thoughts and emotions are plugging you up, restricting your capacity to have faith in Me, and damaging your self-confidence and your self-esteem.”

“What do You recommend?” I asked, knowing that God was my best hope of pulling my first night on the road out of the crapper!

Then the Lord said, “I mentally picked up on that ‘crapper’ thought of yours!”

“I didn’t mean to make light of—”

God broke in and said, “That’s all right, Wantsalittle. Your God does have a keen sense of humor, at least most of the time. Believe it or not, I like to laugh and joke around as much as anybody. Your wry sense of humor and sometimes wit-spoken words reflect your charming, down-to-earth, good-hearted nature. I don’t want you to lose those fine personal qualities. Please don’t take offense or to heart My earlier, momentary lapse of patience with you. As we proceed, over time, with our conversations, I’m confident that you will better understand the importance of communicating with more tact, when it’s called for, and you’ll learn to listen more attentively. And as you further mature, morally and ethically, from your upcoming virtue-seeking adventures and experiences, you will become more respectful of others and more sensitive to others’ individual needs.”

The Lord paused for a few seconds, then continued, “Wantsalittle, the real drama in your life—what should make your life more entertaining, more challenging, and more rewarding—your personal performance will be played out according to how you act and react to various adverse, often-very-difficult circumstances and conditions. By the time the curtain falls on your forthcoming journey, ending the accelerated stage of what should be your steadfast, nonstop drive for self-development and personal growth, you will possess an uncommon strength of morality and an exceptional standard of ethics—character traits more befitting of a king.”

My already aching stomach condition had gradually worsened as the Lord kept spewing Her lengthy, perhaps-scholarly discourse or oration . . . or whatever She might choose to call it. All I could think of, throughout God’s sermon, was my “steadfast, nonstop drive” to rush into the bathroom. I said, “Lord, Your concern for my better interests, character-wise, has touched my heart. And Your forecast for my eventual, heavenly wellbeing has been respectfully noted. But what do You think that I should do, RIGHT NOW, TONIGHT, to rid myself of some of my more negative thoughts and dreadful, all-too-often-hateful, innermost emotions?”

“Wantsalittle, we’re not going to be able to solve all of your problems in one sitting. It’s going to take some time and patience on both our parts. Really, the first thing I think that you should do is to go into the other room and try to ‘royally flush’ some of your ‘angels in black.’”

“What do You mean by ‘angels in black’?” I asked, reluctantly. I was afraid that God’s answer would likely be detailed and delay my inevitable trip to the toilet.

“The expression ‘angels in black’ is symbolic of your negative thoughts, bad habits, harmful emotions, etc.—any and all personal thoughts and personal behaviors that YOU perceive to be ‘skeletons hanging in your closet’—everything that reflects your darker side. You should clear your system of harmful emotional waste. Then try to fill your heart with more positive thoughts and emotions—things like: joy, self-love, love of others, love of your God, faith in your God’s goodness, belief in yourself, your worthwhile individual goals, and your precious personal dreams.”

“That’s going to take some doing on my part!”

“That might be an understatement!” God exclaimed. “For quite some time now, you’ve likely been trying, consciously or subconsciously, to suppress the feelings of your darker side. If your personal truths cause you to fear your angels in black, you must come to understand that such fear is not founded in universal reality. Your fear signifies personal false beliefs, not universal truths. As you continue on your journey, I’ll try My best to help you to gain control over your negative thoughts and harmful emotions. My guidance will enable you to conquer your angels in black, one by one.”

“I really appreciate Your willingness to help me, Lord. What else can I do, NOW, to work on my false beliefs?”

“The Bible states, ‘As a man thinks in his heart, so is he.’ (Proverbs 23:7) Your heart is at the center of all your attitudes, goals, feelings, and actions. As you think with the attitude of self-confidence, for instance, you will be self-confident. Try to ‘see the light’ of your positive thoughts and emotions. As you do, you’ll be able to release your enemies within! That’s about all that I can suggest at this time.”

“Thanks, my Lord! When will I see You again?”

“That’s up to you. You are welcome to call on Me at any time! Wantsalittle, let’s keep our future meetings on the informal side and just between us. Nobody else will be able to see or hear Me when we get together. I’ll contact you ‘in person’ upon your requests, but only for as long as you continue on your journey to personal enlightenment.”

Suddenly, God reflected a solemn expression on Her face. The Lord said, “Wantsalittle, because I am appearing before you and speaking with you in human form, I am apt to adopt human emotions and become influenced, although temporarily, by human behaviors and characteristics. In other words, you, as an imperfect mortal being, may cause Me to say things and perhaps do some things, at times, that I, as your God, wouldn’t say or do. And on account of My human stance and expression as Jessica Simpson, I will accept many of your sarcastic, sexist-slanted thoughts and remarks so long as your intentions are honorable and you are willing to learn and show personal growth from My intermittent advice and suggestions.”

I said, “Thank you, Lord, for allowing me some ‘human latitude’ in my face-to-face correspondence with You. After all, it was Your idea to assume the human form of a most attractive young lady. I will promise to try to keep my chauvenistic thoughts and remarks to a minimum and ‘above board’ during our future conversations. Hopefully, though, we can maintain a light-hearted yet meaningful and educational verbal exchange throughout the course of my quest toward enlightenment. Who knows, among many other of my shortcomings, You might even be able to help me cure my generally sexist attitude by journey’s end.”

“Wantsalittle, I’ll give you everything that I’ve got—e-r-r let Me rephrase that before you get the wrong idea: I’ll do the very best that I can to help you in every aspect of your character. As for your sexist-minded ways, we’ve definitely got our work cut out for us, haven’t we?”

“I’m afraid so, but I am willing to learn!”

“That’s what I wanted to hear. As your God, I am willing to swallow some pride and absorb the brunt of your sexist-directed humor if by so doing I am able to influence you in a positive way and help you to become the very best that you can be.”

The Lord started to walk toward the door. Then She stopped and turned around. She said, “By the way, Superman was coming to your rescue. I used mental telepathy, of sorts, to give him the idea that you already had a ‘protecting angel.’ Then Superman flew off to take care of other important matters.”

“God, thank You for telling me that! That renews my confidence in the ‘S’ man.” The Lord just snickered, and then She suddenly disappeared.

Still sprawled out on the bed in my motel room, my stomach pains had become all but unbearable. I knew that, somehow, I had to eliminate the oppressive pain. Tightly gripping my gut, I crawled off the bed and labored to get into the bathroom.

When I finally got there, I braced myself against the wall with one hand and held onto the bathroom doorknob, then the towel rack, and then the shower rod with the other hand, waddling my way along to the toilet. Then I made good use of the white porcelain fixture, going “#2.”

When I got up and flushed the toilet, I saw the words: fear, doubt, worry, unhappiness, depression, guilt, resentment, anger, hatred, frustration, envy, tension, impatience, etc.—all of these self-limiting emotional terms swirled in the water just before they were sucked down the drain. Temporarily, at least, I had cleared my body of negative thoughts and harmful emotions.

On my way back to bed, I smiled and said, “Whew! What a relief it is to flush away some of the crap that has been constipating my thinking!”

(The moral of this episode: Replace negative emotions with more positive ones!)

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