"Grumbling all the while, Hoshino hesitantly opened the door of the shrine, and Colonel Sanders shone his torch inside. Sure enough, there was an old round stone inside. Just like Nakata said, it was about the size of a big rice cake, a smooth white stone.

"This is it?" Hoshino asked.

"That's right," Colonel Sanders said. "Take it out."

"Hold on a minute. That's stealing."

"No matter. Nobody's going to notice if a stone like this is missing. And nobody'll care."

"Yeah, but the stone is owned by God right? He's going to be pissed off if we take it out."

Colonel Sanders folded his arms and stared straight at Hoshino. "What is God?"

The question threw Hoshino for a moment.

Colonel Sanders pressed him further. "What does God look like, and what does He do?"

"Don't ask me. God's God. He's everywhere, watching what we do, judging whether it's good or bad."

"Sounds like a football referee."

"Sort of, I guess."

"So God wears shorts, has a whistle sticking out of His mouth and keeps an eye on the clock?"

"You know that's not what i mean," Hoshino said.

"Are the Japanese God and the foreign God relatives, or maybe just
enemies?"

"How should I know?"

"Listen - God only exists in people's minds. Especially in Japan, God's always been kind of a flexible concept. Look at what happened after the war. Douglas MacArthur ordered the divine emperor to quit being God, and he did, making a speech saying he was just an ordinary person. So after 1946 he wasn't a God any more. That's what Japanese gods are like - they can be tweaked and adjusted. Some American chomping on a cheap pipe gives the order and presto change-o - God's no longer God. A very postmodern kind of thing. If you think God's there, He is. If you don't, He isn't. And if that's what God's like, I wouldn't worry about it." "