copyright © 2002 Jeff Goode


by Jeff Goode

None-Believer by Jeff Goode (copyright © 2002)
All rights reserved. This script may not be performed, printed, downloaded or re-transmitted without the author's consent.

(A toybox. NON-BELIEVER opens the toybox. Takes out a rosary.)

I’ve never met anyone who believed in God. Not really.

I don’t think they exist.

Sure, you run into a lot of those "I go to church every Sunday" types. And the "My kid is an honor student at Sacred Hearts Middle School so Honk if you love Jesus" bumper sticker people. Not to mention those "Doesn’t this little gold crucifix make me look HOT in my catholic school girl outfit?" girls you see at the mall.

And Lord knows I’ve seen my fair share of the "I believe in God, because if you ever disagree with me on anything, guess who that means YOU believe in?" crowd. They’re everywhere.

But nobody who really means it.

You know how you can tell?

It’s the look in their eyes when you pop the question.

Not that question. The other question. The BIG question.

The one question none of them has an answer for:

The next time someone tries to tell you they believe in some kind of higher power, ask them this...


I’ve never met anybody who got that one right.

Usually, they just get that frightened look on their face and start repeating whatever they said before, like they’re still trying to convince themselves.

Or they get all flustered and start babbling even more convoluted rationalizations that wouldn't even make sense to Star Trek fans.

But no one’s ever been able to look me in the eye with a straight face and just say this…

Yes, really.

Did I stutter?

What part of "there is a God" don’t you understand?

I tell you the sky is blue and you say "Really?" like I’m out of my mind or something?

I think you're the one who needs to have their head examined.

Yes, of course, really! What are you, stupid?

You know what? Never mind, fuck you.

Burn in hell. See if I care.

I don’t have time for this.

I've got the second coming coming up. And I still gotta pack.

So I’ll tell you what. Let’s just wait and see, why don't we?

I think we'll know who's crazy and who's not when you’re swimming in a lake of fire and I’m sitting at the right hand of God sipping nectar from the laps of 72 virgins.

Yeah, let’s do that. That’ll be great.

Little Miss fucking "Really". Fucking bitch.

That’s the correct answer.

But I don’t know anybody that confident.

I wish I did.

I fantasize about them sometimes.

People who believe in God, and the afterlife.

I wish they were real.

John Lennon had it backwards:

Imagine there IS a heaven

And everyone on earth is scared to death

they're gonna get their ass handed to them the minute they get there

if they don’t stop fucking around.

If you’ve got 50 or 60 years down here. And how you spend it determines whether you spend the next 50 or 60 million years boiling in acid...

People would treat each other a hell of a lot better, that's for sure.

There’d be a whole lot less thou-shalt-killing in the name of God, for one thing.

And no Wars at all.

I’m talking Holy Wars, too.

Because even if your heart’s in the right place

And you're doing it for all the right reasons.

And [you're pretty sure it's okay with God,

because] you’re only planning on killing evil doers

And not the evil doers’ children.

Or their Red Cross workers. Just the evil doers.

Not the U.N. inspectors.

Do you really want to walk into heaven covered in blood and run the risk that you maybe misread some of the fine print on those 10 commandments?

"Oh, hi, God. Yeah, sorry about those Canadians.

I was hopped up on amphetamines. I hope that's all right with you."


I don't see that happening if there was anybody out there who actually thought God was the real McCoy.

(contemplates the rosary)

There wouldn't be pedophile priests.

Or maybe there would but there wouldn't be nooooobody covering up for them.

Not if there was any chance at all that you might find yourself standing in line at the pearly gates some day and have the Almighty come up behind you and tap you on the shoulder and go:

"An eye for an eye, buddy.

Now bend over and take it in the eye."

You're not gonna talk your way out of that one.

"But God, you gotta understand

it's the school boy code.

I couldn't rat out my buddy.

We go way back.

We were in seminary together."

"Uh huh. And I'm God. I go all the way back. Now drop your pants, Cardinal."

Nobody would masturbate.

I’m not even talking about right and wrong here.

I mean just in terms of thinking ahead to the judgement day

and they’re going over every little detail of your whole entire life.

Do you really want to see the video play back of that up on the jumbo-tron in front of God and everyone? I mean literally… God… and everyone.


Yeah, the world would be very different place if even one person actually thought any of that stuff was real.

I read somewhere that it's 50/50 the number of people who do or don't believe in God.

But I think it's more like 100% of people are 99% positive

That there's no way in hell that there is a God.

But they're 1% scared to shit that they might have miscalculated.

So they've got to have one foot in the door to heaven just in case.

"Wait! Don't shut that! I'll be in in just a minute!

I just gotta finish writing myself this massive tax cut so I can, uh, uh, uh, donate a whopping 10% of it to my church. (realization:) Which is tax deductible! Woo hoo!"

(contemplates the toybox)


You know, when I was a 6 years old,

I stopped believing in Santa Claus.

But I didn’t go cold turkey.

I remember taking my Mom aside

A couple weeks before Christmas

And confronting her with all the evidence.

The laws of physics, and what all the kids at school were saying.

And the fact that Santa's handwriting and hers were a perfect match.

I expected her to deny it. But she didn't.

She just smiled.

And that's when I knew I had her.

I knew it.

But she just smiled at me and said,

"Does this mean you're not going to write your letter to Santa Claus this year?"

(Long pause.)

The next day I wrote that letter.

I couldn't risk it.

There was too much at stake.


I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was 6 years old.

But I kept writing those letters until I was 9.

And sometimes I think that's what the whole world is.

We're all a bunch of scared 6-9 year olds.

...Wishing we could be 5 again.

(Places the rosary in the toybox and closes the lid.)