Every Name in the Book by Rob Suggs

Every Name in the Book

Adam pushed his toes into the wet sand and let the tide carress his ankles.

"Fabulous!" he grinned. "Can you believe this place? Who needs the Garden? All the seafood you can eat, and completely unspoiled by tourists! And dig this tan; I may even ditch the fig leaf. I'm telling ya, this is the perfect getaway!"

Eve, his wife, squinted at the blinding sand and frowned. "I don't know. It's a nice place to visit, I guess. I miss my plants and pets. And my nose is peeling. As for 'completely unspoiled by tourists' . . . well, until we get fruitful and multiply the earth, pretty much everywhere we go is 'completely unspoiled by tourists.'"

The couple walked along the shore, stopping to examine stray bits of shell or seaweed. Dog, a quadrupedal mammal, ran ahead of them. His exploits were a constant source of amusement for Adam, but Eve didn't much care for him. "Of all the animals we've named, you had to pick that one as a best friend," she complained. "His breath is terrible; his howling keeps me awake. Wouldn't a cat have been more sensible?" But Adam ignored her. He was ignoring her frequently since the whole Garden incident. She'd hoped a romantic beach getaway would rekindle the embers of their romance.

Dog was sniffing an odd item in the sand. Eve toed it cautiously. "New living thing, Adam," she said. "Name it."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Sheesh. It can't be my turn again already. I'm just about tapped out of good animal names. But, well, whatever. Let's see what we got here." He peered blandly at the thing. "I dunno--doesn't look like another shell. How about 'sandypointer'?"

"'Sandypointer?'" exclaimed Eve. "That's the best you can do? You, the genius who came up with 'llama' and 'orangutan'? You've lost your fastball, hon. Here, stand aside." She peered closely at the thing. "I say it looks like a star. Starfish."

"Okay. Here we go. Did you see this one coming, Dog? See her sneaky little game? Sets me up just so she can attack my work! Fine helpmeet, eh, boy? For this I invested a perfectly functional rib. And by the way, stars DON'T have five points and this thing is NOT a fish!"

"Oh, excuse ME. I guess I should defer to the very elegant SANDYPOINTER. Yes sir, generations yet unborn will cherish collecting SANDYPOINTERS along the beach. You win. Now go ahead and taste the thing."

"No way, forget it," said Adam peevishly. "I named it, you taste it. That's the arrangement. As I recall, last time you named the kelp and I ate it. I have yet to wash THAT dreck out of my mouth. Besides, every time you tell me to bite into something I think about what happened in . . . "

"Okay, you made your little point," Eve said, wounded. "You're just not not going to let me forget the Garden, are you? One bad decision and I'm supposed to pay for it the rest of my life? I suppose YOU never made a mistake."

"For the record, up to that point, NO."

"Well, I don't remember anyone forcing you to gobble that fruit. And speaking of fruit, I seem to remember we're supposed to be fruitful and . . ."

"Multiply the earth," finished Adam impatiently. "Okay, okay. Sheeesh, don't pester me about it. It creates pressure."

Both of them fell silent as they walked along, mutually wounded. Dog, a sensitive beast, hung his head and whimpered. Finally, Eve looked up. "Adam, it's not someone else, is it?"

Adam sighed heavily. "Eve, we've been over this again and again. There's never been anyone but you. Who else would I, COULD I, be fruitful with but you?"

"I know. I know. I guess my imagination runs away with me. We've both been under a lot of stress, Adam. And I know you don't want to hear this, but multiplying the earth isn't going to go away. You know it and I know it. The whole institution of the family sort of depends upon us, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I know, Eve. Hey, I want kids. But it's a tough concept for me to wrap my mind around. I've never BEEN a kid, you know? And the way it is, we have the freedom to take off on a moment's notice, go and check out what's hoppin' in Australia just on a whim. And I have no idea where we'll get a baby-sitter." Adam sighed. "Who needs an entire species resting on his shoulders? That's a LOT of pressure, Eve. I don't see why I can't just donate another rib, I got plenty; see, give me your fingers--feel? But yeah . . . I know you're right." Casually, he kept hold of her hand. "Look! Dog has found another one!"

It was definitely a shell this time, but different. Something squishy and shiny pink was inside. Adam retrieved it carefully.

"Eeeewww!" he said. "No way I'm tasting this one! You can usually tell which stuff the Lord wants us to eat just by checking it out. Surely he wouldn't feed us something this disgusting!"

"How do you know you don't like it if you haven't tried it?" said Eve. She'd said it once before, of course, and generations of mothers yet to be born would claim it as their war cry. "Come on, Adam," she continued. "Someone has to be brave enough for a taste test or we'll never know. Hand it to me."

"Oy! Stir it up at least."

"OY-STIR," said Eve with a mouth full. "Not bad, hon. The taste isn't bad, either. Could use a few crackers. So--you named it, I tasted it. Next time you're the taster."

"No way! That one didn't count--you tasted it on your own!"

"Did not! You wimped out and I did your job. You should have to taste the next TWO."

"Yeah, right. Now you're going to pick out an electric eel or something for me!"

"Stop griping; you're the one who got the lobster."

"Yeah, and I got the facial scars to prove it, too"

They disappeared down the beach, bickering all the way. But their hands were still clasped, and Dog was barking happily. There were living things to name and a long, crazy family line to get started. Adam and Eve hitched up their foliage and strode toward a new day.

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