None of the pilgrims were surprised by the dust. Even for those who had travelled from more temperate places seemed unconcerned by the gritty taste of the air, or the red-rawness of their ankles. They all seemed to share a memory, engrained into the racial consciousness of all Muslims. It barely bothered them, for finally they had arrived at the Ka'aba, and one of the essential pillars of their extremely peaceful and friendly religion, the hajj, was therefore fulfilled.
'Oh my Gawd this fucking dust is so gay', drawled a voice loudly. 'I'm just gonna take a snapchat and then let's get out of this hole. It just looks like a black Apple Store anyway.'
Heads turned, the whitewash broken by many brown circles all facing in the same direction, as if it was a religious ceremony. All witnessed the beautiful blonde Californian as she screwed up her face, held her iPhone first in portrait, then landscape, then portrait again. Some muttered aggressively, others grinned bemusedly, and even others muttered bemusedly. None grinned aggressively, that wouldn't make sense. Speaking of which, the dust was starting to not make sense itself. Though all the faithful were Hajj'ing their way counter-clockwise around the Ka'aba, the sand being kicked up by their remarkably clean feet appeared to be being blown in the opposite direction. At first it seemed an illusion, but this didn't last long.
'Oi Dad', interjected a young Australian Muslim. 'What's with all the dust goin' round the Ka'aba like a bloody Townsville cyclone?' His father, who was trying to disinfect a pursed-lips sized area on the big black box so he could do the thing properly, looked up. 'Dunno', he said. 'Probably some Northern Hemisphere thing... like the toilets, if they had any water in them'.
As it happened, it wasn't that. It was Allah. The dust whirled faster and faster, whipping itself into a frenzy, until all those not sporting unusually large Armani sunglasses were forced to cover their eyes, and for a brief moment the wearers of those glasses felt a sense of smug contentment that the investment for which they had been ridiculed for by anyone with a reasonable sense of fashion had finally paid off. However, as mentioned before, the dust storm was Allah, and he wasn't all that big on Armani, so the smug contentment wasn't going to last for long.
Still more rapidly the storm grew, and the steady rushing of sand against the ancient structure's walls began to resonate, pulsing with a sound which no-one could fail to recognise...
'DANANANA.
DA, DANANANA.
DANANANA.
DA, DANANANA.'
There were gasps and screams from the crowd (and mouths filled with sand). Some women fainted. Some children cried. Some young Australian muslims gabbered. The sound was unmistakeable, and in one of the chambers set into the Masjid Al-Haram, Abu Bakr Al-Baghdadi felt fear strike like the arrow of a Christian Crusader into his heart, rusty and blunt.
'There is only one worthy of that song,' he began, speaking English so that one day if his story would be told on the internet, people could understand him. 'Only one who could use that song as his entry music. The only one... Allah.'
'What song is it, imam?' whispered a cowering acolyte.
'It is... Da Rude - Sandstorm'.
'WHATS UUUUUUPPPP, BITCHES', roared an immense voice. 'Fucken ME-HU AKBAR!'
The Sandstorm coalesced on top of the Kaaba into the form of an aesthetic God. His abs were the stuff of legend. His Pecs could dance better than an Irish jigger. His legs... his legs needed work. But his voice could not be doubted - it was the voice of a God.
'Now, let's get to business. I've not been around for a while so there's a lot to catch up on. First of all, you can ignore everything written in just about every religious text ever produced. Honestly, I thought I made you all a little bit more intelligent than to believe any of that bullshit. Why on earth would I tell you that if a bloke rapes a girl, he should pay her father and marry her? Seriously Christians, that's so dumb. Also... Shellfish. Are. Delicious. I made them that way. And Jews, oh man - Jews? Why do you think i want you to wear that hat? What would that do for me? I mean it's amusing but like... come on. And finally... anyone who is not what those idiot westerners would describe as an 'extremist Muslim', would you please sit down. I need to see this lot for myself... er, not that I don't see them constantly of course... wooooo freaky!'
By this point, everyone was either passed out from shock or had adopted the bemused grin described earlier, and as none of those in shock were extremist Muslims (who of course weren't shocked at all to see Allah, even if he was a bit different to their expectations), no one failed to follow this commandment, which was a first.
'Oh also, all those in Armani sunglasses. You stand up too,' Allah added, and knowing what we know about people in Armani sunglasses, it was fairly clear what was about to go down. 'Right.' Allah did not look pleased. He looked dis-pleased. He looked anti-pleased. 'Now as I understand it, you're all convinced that the horrific things you do are in some way a service to me. This is defamation. You've given me an absolutely terrible name and if I needed a team of expensive lawyers, I'd be breaking out the credit card right now. However, fortunately I'm Allah, so I don't have to. Instead, I'm just going to fuck your shit up!'
This he promptly did.
'Right, now that's dealt with, the rest of you need to listen up. Would someone please set up a live-stream, I need to talk to all of you. It - it's already done? Yes? Thank you, Elon. Finger on the pulse as usual. OK, now, here are the actual rules - or well, rule I suppose. It's not hard, so please memorise it, or you'll end up like those smoking piles of liquified, stagnating flesh and overpriced plastic over there.' He paused, and gazed impressively at the world he had created so long ago. The reporters dangled their pens above notepads, the scholars adjusted their thick prescription glasses, and the American Blonde tapped to begin recording the 450th second of her Snapchat story.
'Treat everyone else in the same way you want to be treated. That's it. Anyway, I'm off. I'm doing the rounds of all my life-forms in the Universe, and there are HEAPS so I guess I'll see you again in another few aeons. I may send another son sooner or later, and if I hear you pull the stunt you did last time, by God - heh, get it? - anyway, by God, you'll all be in for it.'
And with that, the shimmering body of beautifully molded sand collapsed into a neat pile, everyone around the world stopped wearing and saying silly things, and everyone lived happily ever after.
The End.