The Seventh Day

It had been declared a Public Holiday. The seventh and final day of the creation. God had sent one of his angels to announce it, so pleased was he with the results of his efforts over the previous week. Now animals of every species were lined up awaiting the news as to what their role was in this new world and what tasks they were to be given.

A family of beetles stood in anticipation as the alpha male beetle walked back to the group after his audience with God. His slow gait was unnerving one of the older females, anticipating some less than exciting news, but the young ones were hopping about excitedly as youngsters do when even a short period of waiting is about to be completed. A couple of the older adolescents stood slightly to one side, feigned moodiness on their faces not fully hiding their eagerness to hear the news too.

"So? What we got? What'll we be doing in this new world?" asked the female, stepping forward.

The male scratched his brow with one of his spindly legs, slow to respond as if contemplating his answer.

"Well…it’s like this –"

"Just heard that big yellow thing with the long hair saying he's been made king of the jungle," interrupted one of the young ones excitedly. "What’s a jungle dad?"

Ignoring the question the adult male cleared his throat. "Well, we… uh… we're not quite going to be kings. We're… uh, dung beetles, apparently," he said, looking up and taking in the faces of the family.

"Dung? Dung beetles?" queried one of the spotty adolescents, "What’s dung?"

"Dung is… " the alpha male beetle paused, looking around him as if seeking some sort of assistance. "You see that big hippopotamus over there," he said pointing with an antenna at the large beast to his left that had its tail raised high in the air. "Well that stuff falling from under its tail is dung."

"Whaaaat" You're having a giraffe," cried one of the adolescents, a look of incredulity on his face. ‘That’s dung? You're telling us that that is dung? It stinks!"

"What’s a giraffe?" queried another voice.

"It’s that very tall thing over there that keeps banging its head on the trees,’" said the female. "So take no notice of your brother. He overheard God say he was going to have a laugh ‘cos he had loads of DNA left over and he’d make a giraffe. Only trouble is it seems he had quite a lot of it and used it to make that long neck. He thinks it’s funny –"

"Yeah, we think this God geezer’s mucking about," piped up another younger looking female. "He painted them horses over there with black and white stripes. Don’t even go with anything. Anyway, this dung thing, dad. You aren’t serious, are you? What are we supposed to do with it?"’

The alpha male beetle stroked his chin this time, as he carefully chose his response.

"Well, we'll be recycling it. Use it to live in…err, eat it and…well roll it up into balls and push it about a lot."

"Uuuurrrgh, eat it," several voices exclaimed at once.

"Look, don’t panic. God told me it was good for us and we’d be doing the whole animal kingdom a useful service. We’d be very important in the big scheme of things. Think of it as a... a… well… a community recycling animal project. So us dung beetles would be really useful."

The younger female stepped forward.

"Well I don’t fancy that dung thing. Not good for the image. I mean, you seen that stuff? What did you say they called it? Community re…re…whatever you said, dad."

"Community recycling animal project. It’s the name for the role we have been given. The name of the work we will be doing so – "

"CRAP then! Community recycling animal project. CRAP is easier," said the older female. "We eat crap, live in crap and push crap about all day. We got the CRAP job!"

"I s'pose so," agreed one of the adolescents. "Could be worse I reckon. That baboon over there has had his arse shaved and painted red! and ain't nobody told him why yet!"