Genesis 5: Adam’s F*cked Up Family Tree (Season 1, Episode 3)
What happens when Adam and Eve populate the world through inbreeding? Pretty much what you’d expect – bestiality, cold-blooded murder and a lot of confusingly-similar names.
|Jay Willem||Sep 19, 2019|| 5|
This is the latest episode in a serialised narrative. If jumping into things mid-way doesn’t bother you, ignore this and keep reading. If you like to start from the beginning, check out the archive here.
If you are a creationist, evangelist, fundamentalist, or biblical literalist, this will probably offend you.
If you have any sense of propriety, this will probably offend you.
If you have the capacity to be offended, this will probably do the trick.
If you're okay with that, then read on.
If you want to read on just so you can tell me how terrible I am and that I should never write another word ever again, feel free.
Who knows? It might actually work.
Adam and Eve are all alone.
Second-born dead and first-born on the run for his murder. Needless to say, they’re proud as punch.
All their other kids have gone off to raise families elsewhere, and like every couple with an empty nest, shit’s starting to get awkward. They eat their breakfast in silence and then he goes off to till the field, while she sits there and does the loom or whatever.
Eventually, they decide they can’t handle not being parents, so what do they do?
They have another kid. Call him Seth.
Now, Adam’s 130 years old by this point, so picture the wrinkly bastard rolling onto his wife and just going at it like a jack-hammer. An old, rusty jack-hammer that has trouble keeping its chisel up and needs a bit of lubricating oil every now and then or else it becomes like drilling into a dusty sidewalk. Shit just locks up.
Hey, his wife’s as old as he is and she’s not exactly thrilled about the prospect of flapping jowls and saggy balls.
But also, these guys are, like, borderline immortal – Adam’s going to live another 800 years after this kid’s born – so maybe they stay in their prime for longer, I don’t know. I don’t know if we’re playing by Highlander rules here or Lord of the Rings or what.
All we can say for sure is Seth doesn’t have such a great childhood. He’s basically a replacement for Abel, and his dad never lets him forget it. Stumbling home from the tavern at three o’clock in the morning, he tells Seth he’s not Abel, he’ll never be Abel.
And Seth isn’t Abel.
He isn’t able to do much of anything.
It’s like getting a new vacuum and being like, “Nope. Not as good as the old one.” So like that, if the vacuum had feelings and could understand what you were saying.
But against all odds, Seth doesn’t end up a paedophile or a serial killer or anything like that. He pulls himself up by his bootstraps and even manages to churn out a kid.
Now, there’s no mention of a wife here so we have to assume that he just kind of reproduces asexually – you know, like how an amputated starfish arm grows into a whole new starfish. Either that or the wife just isn’t named. I happen to think the former’s more convincing, though, don’t you?
On the other hand, if he does have a wife, it might be the same one Abel was married to. Or she might just be another sister that he picked out of a line-up.
Whatever happened, the kid’s name is Enos. No, not Enoch – that’s his cousin’s name. This is Enos – totally different.
However, there is another Enoch a little further down the line – Enos has a son called Kenan, who has a son called Mahalalel (try saying that five times fast), who has a son called Jared (I know, right?), and he’s the guy who has Enoch.
Just given what we’ve seen so far, I’m thinking that in the Bible universe, there must be like five or six names total and everyone has to fight each other to the death for them.
The winner gets Enoch. The guys who lose but don’t die end up with Jared.
I don’t know about you, but I’m picturing about a dozen toddlers in a pint-sized Colosseum, all armed with rocks and sharp sticks. The parents are off to the side, cheering for their kid – yelling inappropriate shit and getting into fights with other parents. Generally making a fool of themselves. You know, the usual stuff you see at kids’ sporting events.
Anyway, remember how I said that Adam lived until he was 930? That’s around about the same figure all these guys hit before they drop dead.
All except Enoch.
He hits 365 and he’s out of there.
So why does Enoch get the short end of the stick?
Well, maybe he doesn’t.
Him and God are taking long walks together, shooting the shit while everyone else is talking shit behind his back. They’re jealous, yeah? Wouldn’t you be if one of your folks gets to stroll around with the Almighty all day while you have to go out hunting, tending fields?
Damn right, you would.
Enoch sticks out like a sore thumb while everyone else is drinking, fighting, fucking – generally living in sin.
He’s got a special relationship with the big guy and it isn’t long before they start calling him names, implying him and God are getting awful close, if you know what I mean?
Even Jared doesn’t get that much shit.
But Enoch, bless his heart, just smiles at them and goes about his day – picking flowers for his BFF without a care in the world.
Meanwhile, Jared’s fuming. He tells everyone else they’re gonna smoke that motherfucker – partly angry about Enoch’s status with the big guy, partly angry at his own dad for giving him such a terrible name. This is the one chance he’s got to get some status for himself, and all he has to do is kill his own son.
He rationalises it by saying his dad did worse to him, calling him Jared.
Really, what he should be doing is going after Mahalalel, but his dad’s a respected guy in the community, so that won’t do him any good. Maybe he could cut his throat in his sleep and blame it on Enoch? No, too risky. Let’s just go with Plan A. Make Jared a name people are proud to have.
And so, in the most toxic redirection of patricidal rage you’ve ever seen, he organises the ambush. Enoch’s coming back from his daily walk with God, and God’s got the freshly-picked flowers in his hair.
They’re coming back towards the camp when the big guy smells something fishy. He tells Enoch to step back and everyone else to step out.
Silence for a few seconds, then all the guys shuffle out from behind trees and under bushes. They’re sheepish, can’t meet his eye. A few of them bashfully toe the dirt with their sandals.
God’s like, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Jared doesn’t answer, but Methuselah (Enoch’s son) says they’re all sick of the guy, they want him gone.
God says, “You want him gone so bad, you got it.”
And he takes Enoch up to heaven with him.
All Jared and Methuselah and the others can do is stand around, looking at each other, like, “Shit...”
Now they all have to live for another few centuries at least, working their fingers to the bone while Enoch lives it up in heaven, banging angels and binge-watching every season of Better Call Saul. In moments of true clarity and self-awareness, he catches himself going, “Is this better than Breaking Bad? How the fuck did they pull that off?”
Part of him doesn’t want to admit it, because how could anything be as good as Breaking Bad? Breaking Bad was fucking perfect, and when they announced the prequel series, Enoch, like everyone, had his doubts. But season after season, the show just keeps proving it is possible to follow up a perfect show with another (maybe even more) perfect show.
It honestly keeps him up nights.
Suddenly, 365 doesn’t seem like too bad a number, does it? He got to see the world, do his thing. Now he’s chilling in paradise with the big guy who, when he’s feeling cheeky, busts out the coke and gets a few angels in and they all have a great old time.
Also, I should mention that Enoch didn’t actually die, which makes him one of only two people in the whole Bible who gets whisked up to heaven without having to be crucified, killed in battle, or otherwise horrifically murdered first.
The other one’s Elijah, but we’ll get to him later.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the family, Cain’s been busy. He had a kid who had a kid who had a kid and so forth. At the moment, he’s off in the woods and he’s supposed to be hunting.
But instead, he’s jacking it.
As you would.
You’re out there hunting, you’re almost a thousand years old, you get tired. You can only stare impotently at the deer chewing grass right in front of you for so long. You want to jab your spear into the thing’s ribcage, but you don’t have the strength.
You can’t believe the nerve of this deer – eating grass right in front of you like it knows you can’t do shit.
But you can do something.
You can whip out your wrinkled, old penis and go to town on yourself. The deer can stand there and watch or run away in disgust.
Either way, you win.
The deer doesn’t leave. It just stands there, chewing grass for a moment before it realises what you’re doing.
It stares at you and you stare at it. Deep into its eyes.
Fist pumping a mile a minute and you swear the deer arches an eyebrow like, “Is this guy fucking serious?”
The deer only breaks eye contact to look around, like it’s checking to see if any of its deer buddies are watching this, because there’s no fucking way they’re going to believe him later on.
Finally, the thing goes limp in your hand because, well…you’re almost a thousand years old. It’s going to happen. Don’t feel bad. You could try to keep going – maybe you’ll get a second wind. But what are the odds of that happening?
Instead, Cain throws in his earphones and pumps some Avenged Sevenfold. Sits there nodding his head to the beat, eyes closed.
Not far off, his great-great-great grandson Lamech is out hunting with his son.
Lamech’s son, not Cain’s.
And unlike their ancestor engaging in borderline bestiality, they’re actually hunting.
The kid’s name is Tubal-Cain because apparently these guys liked to confuse the shit out of each other at family reunions.
Don’t believe me? The guy had two half-brothers called Jubal and Jabal.
Now, Tubal-Cain’s basically ‘the man’ when it comes to anything metal. He’s a blacksmith by trade. Parents wanted him to be a doctor, he wanted to be a poet – in the end, they compromised on blacksmith and no one was happy. But he sure could beat the shit out of some iron.
So Lamech and Tubal-Cain are out hunting, and as they come upon a deer grazing in the woods, they stop. Lamech lines up a shot and fires.
But he’s old – not as old as Cain, but still pretty fucking old – and his eyesight’s getting worse. The arrow misses. The deer bolts.
“Fuck,” says Lamech, and they go over to find the arrow. Shit’s valuable, man – can’t just be wasting bronze-tipped arrows like they’re bullets in John Wick.
They expect to find it on the ground, or in a tree. But when they get to the spot where the deer was, they find it stuck in something else entirely.
An old man with the word ‘CUNT’ branded into his forehead. He’s slumped over, heavy metal blaring in his ears, arrow coming out his eye-hole. Wrinkled, old penis out and still erect in his wrinkled, old hand.
Guess he did get a second wind, after all.
Lamech’s more like, “What the fuck?”, but Tubal-Cain starts panicking, crying, so his dad slaps him hard across the face and tells him to get his shit together.
They proceed to dig a nice big hole and dump the old guy’s body in there. They cover him up with soil and vow to never breathe a word of what happened. People will think he just fucked off and be glad of it.
Their animals even more so.
One poor goat in particular – still having nightmares about it.
Up top, God’s watching all this and can’t help but be like, “That’s what you get, you fucker. Kill your brother and force me to eat the evidence. That’s what you fucking get.”
Mind you, he’s hammered when he says this, so he’s a little harsher than he might be otherwise.
He calls Enoch over to watch, but the guy’s in a hot tub being ridden like a racehorse so God says, “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you later,” and he gets himself another drink.
Down below, Lamech’s walking back to camp with his son and they’re getting their stories straight. They were out hunting and came back empty-handed – that’s all that happened. People would give them shit, but so what? Better they think that than that they killed Cain the Cunt.
Cain the Cunt was, after all, rumoured to have a secret pact with God that anyone who caused him harm would have that harm repaid to them with compound interest.
And they didn’t just cause him harm – they fucking killed the guy.
So the whole way back, they’re looking around, scared, like they’re in a Final Destination movie. At some point, it settles in that they’re going to spend the rest of their lives looking over their shoulders and there’s only one appropriate response to that level of paranoia.
And a fuck-load of it.
That night, they guzzle the shit like it’s going out of fashion. Tubal-Cain gets real quiet when he drinks, so he’s there writing poems while his dad gets into an argument with another guy, who’s giving him shit for coming back empty-handed.
Lamech’s pretty wasted by this point, so in a last-ditch effort to save his masculinity, he ends up bragging that he killed a guy – shot him right through the eye from a hundred yards off. Tubal-Cain tries to shut him up, but it doesn’t do any good.
Not long after that, he carries his dad home and leaves him in the care of his wives, Adah and Zillah.
That’s right. Wives. Plural.
Say hello to the first polygamist in history. The Bill Paxton of our story, if you will.
Anyway, he’s drunk enough that he thinks he can satisfy all three of them, but ends up only satisfying one. I’ll let you guess which.
After he passes out, Adah pushes him off Zillah and helps the poor woman up. Starting out, they couldn’t stand each other, but being forced to take turns servicing the old man – and occasionally partnering up to do the same – has left them the very best of friends.
Y’know, like Jesse James and Robert Ford in that movie, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.
They sit there, mending clothes by the fire, wondering if they could get away with killing their husband in his sleep. Turns out they don’t have to.
God comes down and lays it out, like, “In case you don’t know, that piece of shit you call a husband just killed Cain.”
Both of them are shocked, thinking he’s going to take it out on them. But that’s not what he’s got in mind.
He says, “I told Cain that no one would hurt him. Anyone who did would get hurt seven times worse. Why seven? I don’t know – seemed like a good, solid number at the time. Anyway, Fuckface over there shot him in the head with an arrow, so now we gotta figure out what’s seven times worse than that.”
So God, Adah and Zillah put their heads together and come up with an elegant solution.
Lamech’s dead drunk, so he doesn’t stir when they move him, but he’s a heavy motherfucker. Carrying him outside, God’s under one arm, Zillah’s under the other and Adah gets the bow ready.
God’s starting to feel sorry for the women who were constantly flattened under this guy. Adah and Zillah are like, “No shit, why didn’t you do anything about it?”
He goes, “What do you call this?”
They tie Lamech to a tree out in the woods and God says they can hit him seven times, but that’s it.
Adah goes first. Hits him in the arm. Guy doesn’t even wake up.
“Give it here,” Zillah says, and puts one square through his nutsack.
That wakes him up.
Lamech tries to scream, but they’ve jammed a bunch of cloth in his mouth so it comes out all muffled.
God’s off to the side smoking a cigarette, and when Lamech looks over at him, eyes bulging, God shrugs, like, “I told you so.”
Now, you might think that based on the accuracy of those first two shots, the whole thing would’ve been over in less than a minute.
But those first two shots were lucky.
These guys aren’t professional archers. They’re not out bow-hunting every day. They’ve probably had some experience with the thing, but they’re rusty, you know? They haven’t developed the requisite musculature in their arms, hands or fingers. They haven’t been practising their aim. What do you expect? Have you ever tried using a bow and arrow? It’s hard as shit.
So twenty minutes later, they’re still there.
All told, they miss about 95% of their shots. A lot of time gets taken up retrieving arrows, lining up the next shot, and so on. Their muscles are getting tired, their forearms are getting rubbed raw by the bowstring. God’s checking his watch like, “I gotta get back,” and Lamech’s looking more and more like a pincushion – one in his arm, balls, stomach, ear, knee and hand. He’s not so much terrified any more as he is just plain frustrated, like, “Will you get this over with already?”
Zillah lands the final shot through his windpipe and the guy finally shuts up and dies.
God cuts him loose and stays there while they bury the body, making sure the coast is clear. Adah and Zillah are knee-deep in the earth, digging with shovels. Adah’s like, “No, don’t trouble yourself. We got this.”
God lights another cigarette. He says, “I just let you kill a guy.”
“We were probably gonna kill him anyway.”
“Yeah, except now you still get to go to heaven.”
They figure it’s a good deal and keep digging.
Back at the camp, God drops the widows home and tells them not to breathe a word of what happened. They’ll think Lamech went out and got himself eaten by a bear or fell down a cliff or something. The widows say no problem, but where’s he going so soon?
God says he has to get back, but the ladies are looking at him like some shit’s about to go down and suddenly whatever’s going on in heaven doesn’t seem so important.
They leave their clothes at the door and disappear inside.
If this were an old sitcom, right here is the part where God looks directly at the camera, gives a shrug and a knowing smile with his eyebrows raised like, “What’s a guy to do?”, and goes in after them.
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