post_text stringlengths 0 10k | post_title stringlengths 8 313 | chosen stringlengths 1 39.5k | rejected stringlengths 1 13.8k |
|---|---|---|---|
Expand it as you will. | [WP] Go listen to a favorite piece of music. Write down the imagery that came to mind. | *Crash!*
The young woman hurried into the room to find the old man huffing, out of breath, standing over the corner table flipped on its side. Slowly, her eyes changed from surprise and fear, to endearing and kind. "Dad," she asked softly. "What are you doing?"
He licked his chapped lips, before weakly replying, "I can't find my watch."
His voice quivered at the end, as he turned to sit back in his bed. Placing his face in his hands, he quietly began to weep. The young woman sat beside him, wrapping her arm around his shoulder.
The old man tried to hide his tears, but the small *hic*'s in his voice betrayed him. "I can't find anything..." the man choked through the tears. She knew what he meant.
It happened thirteen years ago, when she was 8 years old. On her walk home from school, she got lost taking a wrong turn. Her father, protective of his only child, frantically called the school and their neighbors, asking for any clues to her whereabouts. Luckily, she came home two hours later, after asking for directions from a kind passerby. Every day since, her father picked her up personally, promptly at school's end.
Thirteen years later, the thought of losing her still weighed heavy on his now forgetful mind.
The man sniffled and wiped away his tears. "I'm tired..." he said, rubbing his head with his hand.
"Then close your eyes and go to sleep," she said, standing up to lay him down. "I'll be right here when you wake up."
She pulled the blankets up under his arms, and re-attached his I.V. "I'm right here, it'll be alright," she repeated, slowly rubbing his arm.
He sighed. In a moment of partial clarity, he asked the young woman in a near whisper, "Where's [Sarah](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNm2_Wth1sE)?"
Sarah was his wife and her mother, but she died many years ago, and it seemed the fact slipped his mind once more.
"Well," the young woman started.
"She...she's on a boat, and she's going to meet some family."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she nodded, biting her trembling lip.
She continued the story, holding his hand until he closed his eyes.
...
*Beep. Beep. Beep*
The young woman silently sat by the bed, holding her father's hand, as she stared out into nothing.
She sniffled. "Is it stupid to think you can hear me?" she asked.
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
Her bottom lip trembled as she took in a deep breath -- he had always come running to her side, always finding a way to make her smile. She tried to stifle her tears, laying her head down on his hand.
"I need you, daddy," she whispered quietly. "Please don't leave me..." | ######[](#dropcap)
The interrogation room was too clean.
That was the first thing Lieutenant Quentin Langley noticed. The second was that his captors failed to properly search him, performing only a cursory pat down his arms and legs. No serious search, no metal detectors of any kind. He nearly spat in contempt.
Amateurs.
He shifted slightly in his chair, noted that the steel seat was bolt down into the ground along with the stable. He noticed however, that the only other chair in the room was not. The florescent lights were too bright, too sterile. The one way mirror was situated to Langley's left, the door in front of him and to the right. There was no outlets, no place to hook up electric tools and unless they were willing to hump a goddamn battery to the room, no jumper cables. No drains for blood, no faucets for water. So unless they kept their torture equipment separate from their holding cells he was in little danger of having his finger nails pulled out with white hot pliers.
As he thought, amateurs.
He wore the same uniform he had been captured in, the olive green coveralls a little worse for wear. His camouflaged jacket had his lieutenant's single silver pip on its black collar tabs, the black coffin with crossed silver longswords on the left sleeve the emblem of his unit.
The door opened up and two men stepped into the room, an armed guard and an officer wearing the uniform of a Knight of the Republic of the Sphere. The enlisted soldier stood with his back to the wall, Mauser laser rifle held across his chest. The knight tossed a thick manila folder onto the stainless steel table and pulled out a seat.
"I am Sir Tyler Harcourt of the Republic Armed Forces and you're gonna answer some questions of mine."
Lt. Langley merely smiled and said, " Quentin P. Langley. Lieutenant in the Grave Guards mercenary battalion. Serial number 7822. That's all you're getting out of me clown."
The guard behind the RAF officer frown but said nothing. The knight however, smiled in that venomous style of a serpent, feral and not a little evil.
"We are civilized soldiers, Lieutenant. You will not be mistreated. We merely want to know certain details about your commanding officer, Major Winston Tycho Novak."
Langley winced as the man spoke Novak's name.
"For the record, he doesn't much care for his first name. And if you want me to talk, I want something to eat."
The knight snapped his fingers and the guard left the room, no doubt to conduct that little errand.
"How long have you served with the Major?" The Republic knight asked.
"... Five years. Started off as a corporal and worked my way up."
"And what was your impression of Major Novak in the beginning?"
"I heard the rumors, watched the holotapes. They said that he survived Operation Hammerfall and cobbled together a scratch company of soldiers from the remnants of the defenders of Corsicana. They say the Wolves capture him and a hundred others, made them dig their own graves and then shot them. He lived and dug himself out of a mass grave filled with the bodies of his comrades. They say he fought an entire star of clanners alone, killing all of them.
"Many would call the Major a criminal, a man who endangers innocents and shows little mercy to his foes. I know this to be false. I know him to be a man willing to do whatever it takes for victory. He is unscrupulous, willing to lie and to cheat to gain the upper hand but there is honor in that still. Every life he takes saves a dozen innocent ones."
The knight shook his head.
"If a battle is not won honorably, is not conducted with dignity and mercy, then that victory is hollow."
Langley laughed, the chains connected to his cuffs clinking as they shook slightly.
"There is nothing merciful about war, nothing dignified in slaughtering your fellow man. There is no honor in defeating a foe. There is only violence, and blood, and death. I thought very much the same as you when I first joined, raised on tales of the Knights of the Inner Sphere and whatnot. That shell of belief was soon cracked."
"Where?" The RAF officer asked, leaning closer to his prisoner.
Langley brushed his jacket, his thumb running over the silver pip of his rank. He smiled sadly at the memory.
"At a monastery called San Miguel..."
|
Expand it as you will. | [WP] Go listen to a favorite piece of music. Write down the imagery that came to mind. | *Crash!*
The young woman hurried into the room to find the old man huffing, out of breath, standing over the corner table flipped on its side. Slowly, her eyes changed from surprise and fear, to endearing and kind. "Dad," she asked softly. "What are you doing?"
He licked his chapped lips, before weakly replying, "I can't find my watch."
His voice quivered at the end, as he turned to sit back in his bed. Placing his face in his hands, he quietly began to weep. The young woman sat beside him, wrapping her arm around his shoulder.
The old man tried to hide his tears, but the small *hic*'s in his voice betrayed him. "I can't find anything..." the man choked through the tears. She knew what he meant.
It happened thirteen years ago, when she was 8 years old. On her walk home from school, she got lost taking a wrong turn. Her father, protective of his only child, frantically called the school and their neighbors, asking for any clues to her whereabouts. Luckily, she came home two hours later, after asking for directions from a kind passerby. Every day since, her father picked her up personally, promptly at school's end.
Thirteen years later, the thought of losing her still weighed heavy on his now forgetful mind.
The man sniffled and wiped away his tears. "I'm tired..." he said, rubbing his head with his hand.
"Then close your eyes and go to sleep," she said, standing up to lay him down. "I'll be right here when you wake up."
She pulled the blankets up under his arms, and re-attached his I.V. "I'm right here, it'll be alright," she repeated, slowly rubbing his arm.
He sighed. In a moment of partial clarity, he asked the young woman in a near whisper, "Where's [Sarah](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNm2_Wth1sE)?"
Sarah was his wife and her mother, but she died many years ago, and it seemed the fact slipped his mind once more.
"Well," the young woman started.
"She...she's on a boat, and she's going to meet some family."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she nodded, biting her trembling lip.
She continued the story, holding his hand until he closed his eyes.
...
*Beep. Beep. Beep*
The young woman silently sat by the bed, holding her father's hand, as she stared out into nothing.
She sniffled. "Is it stupid to think you can hear me?" she asked.
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
Her bottom lip trembled as she took in a deep breath -- he had always come running to her side, always finding a way to make her smile. She tried to stifle her tears, laying her head down on his hand.
"I need you, daddy," she whispered quietly. "Please don't leave me..." | Standing in front of a girl, his hair stands on end. Waves of chills rush through his body, building strength. The waves crescendo, and an aura of blue lightning cloaks him.
They lock eyes as he reaches to caress her face. Just before they touch, a small bolt jumps from his hands and ignites an aura of red flame around her.
He pulls her into a kiss, and the auras meld into a maelstrom or passion. They begin to lift off the ground, slowly at first, and then rocket into night sky. |
Expand it as you will. | [WP] Go listen to a favorite piece of music. Write down the imagery that came to mind. | *Crash!*
The young woman hurried into the room to find the old man huffing, out of breath, standing over the corner table flipped on its side. Slowly, her eyes changed from surprise and fear, to endearing and kind. "Dad," she asked softly. "What are you doing?"
He licked his chapped lips, before weakly replying, "I can't find my watch."
His voice quivered at the end, as he turned to sit back in his bed. Placing his face in his hands, he quietly began to weep. The young woman sat beside him, wrapping her arm around his shoulder.
The old man tried to hide his tears, but the small *hic*'s in his voice betrayed him. "I can't find anything..." the man choked through the tears. She knew what he meant.
It happened thirteen years ago, when she was 8 years old. On her walk home from school, she got lost taking a wrong turn. Her father, protective of his only child, frantically called the school and their neighbors, asking for any clues to her whereabouts. Luckily, she came home two hours later, after asking for directions from a kind passerby. Every day since, her father picked her up personally, promptly at school's end.
Thirteen years later, the thought of losing her still weighed heavy on his now forgetful mind.
The man sniffled and wiped away his tears. "I'm tired..." he said, rubbing his head with his hand.
"Then close your eyes and go to sleep," she said, standing up to lay him down. "I'll be right here when you wake up."
She pulled the blankets up under his arms, and re-attached his I.V. "I'm right here, it'll be alright," she repeated, slowly rubbing his arm.
He sighed. In a moment of partial clarity, he asked the young woman in a near whisper, "Where's [Sarah](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNm2_Wth1sE)?"
Sarah was his wife and her mother, but she died many years ago, and it seemed the fact slipped his mind once more.
"Well," the young woman started.
"She...she's on a boat, and she's going to meet some family."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she nodded, biting her trembling lip.
She continued the story, holding his hand until he closed his eyes.
...
*Beep. Beep. Beep*
The young woman silently sat by the bed, holding her father's hand, as she stared out into nothing.
She sniffled. "Is it stupid to think you can hear me?" she asked.
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
Her bottom lip trembled as she took in a deep breath -- he had always come running to her side, always finding a way to make her smile. She tried to stifle her tears, laying her head down on his hand.
"I need you, daddy," she whispered quietly. "Please don't leave me..." | One night I was wandering in the everglades and I saw things I'll never forget. To this day when I remember this night I have chills all over my body. As I was walking on my usual path I heard weird noises. The noises quickly turned into a chant. I hid behind a tree and as I was about to peek a drunkard came staggering from the other end. He was loud and the creatures that were chanting noticed him. Thankfully they didn't noticed me, yet.
The creatures were tall, all black with glowing eyes. From the sheer horror I almost forgot to breathe. They took the drunkard and led him where they came from. Only then I noticed the big pile of wood. I thought they were going to burn the poor man. But they didn't. They lit the fire, put the man in front of it and then they formed a big circle around him.
They begun to chant again. The air was filled with dark energy. I was so afraid that I couldn't move. The chant was getting louder and louder when the drunkard started dancing. Well dancing, it looked more like if he was a puppet. As if he was outside of his body. His hands moved around wildly, his head rocking back and forth, his legs going in all directions.
Suddenly the chant stopped. The poor man's body dropped on the ground with a heavy thud. A second later the man stood up and started running as fast as he could. I swear he was sober than ever before. I stood there in horror and couldn't move. And then those glowing eyes turned to me... |
[WP] The genie frowned. "Immortal? I thought you said Immoral." | The genie shrugged. "Sorry, kid, no can do."
Eddie's mouth dropped open. "What?!"
"Yeah, I can't make you something you already are." He examined his fingernails.
"Does that mean I still have three wishes?"
"Yupparoonie. Wildest dreams, craziest ideas, you name it, it's yours." The genie sounded bored.
Eddie thought for a long moment. "I wish I had a hundred million dollars."
"That's a lot of money, kid. As you wish --" he snapped his fingers. "Check your bank account."
Eddie tapped at his phone. "Sweet! Next up, a fabulous financial advisor who will manage my money responsibly in my favour."
"All yours. There should be a business card in your wallet." The genie sighed as he snapped his fingers again. This kid was so unimaginative. Eight hundred years trapped in that godforsaken lamp and THIS is the idiot who set him free. The next wish would send him off to the forgotten realm until another enchantress phoned up the office of genies and his number was up.
"Well, since I'm going to have the rest of forever to invest my money, I'd like my financial advisor to be immortal too." Eddie grinned in satisfaction.
"Sure thi -- wait. Did you say *immortal*?" The genie looked at Eddie.
"Yeah, immortal. Like me. You said I already was, right?" Eddie raised an eyebrow.
"Shit, kid, I thought you said immoral! You've gotta be kidding me." The genie ran a hand through his hair. "Fuck, man, now I'm gonna get audited..."
"Wait, was that actually my last wish?" Eddie asked quickly.
"I didn't snap my fingers, and rules is the wish don't get granted until the fingers snap." Now it was the genie's turn to look confused. "Why?"
"I take back what I said earlier, and my third wish is for both me and my financial advisor to be immortal. Can my advisor also be female?" Eddie looked hopeful.
"Immortal, yes, female, no guarantees. I can do compatible personality for ya, though, since you'll be spending forever together," the genie offered.
"Deal." Eddie grinned as the genie snapped his fingers. "Thanks, mate."
"You couldn't have been a little more imaginative?" sighed the genie. "But hey, I suppose money brings happiness. I gotta run, kid. Don't get into too much trouble."
Eddie's phone buzzed in his pocket. As he answered the call, the genie poofed out of existence. "Hello?"
"Is this Eduardo Velasquez?"
"Sure is, what's up?"
"Hi, I'm Emily, calling from Mirrabar Federal Credit Union. We have reason to believe that your account has been compromised..."
"Shit." | Ugh dumb genie, what am I gonna do
With "immoral" beats, unclean mouth, verbal zoo?
I wanted rap eternity, not rap obsurdity
Obscenity is redundant, no change has been incurred to me
My beats were already wrong like murder
Your cute little change has moved me no further
But I got two wishes left, you're pretty deaf
So let's make this loud and clear, like your right from your left
Wish number one, I wish for more wishes
Wish number two, brotha do my dishes
I'll save the rest for later, cuz clearly you're a hater.
Get an attitude adjustment, step up as my placater | |
[WP] Long, continuous vibrations are being felt all over the world. As the days pass, they worsen. | One pulse: That was all it took to bring the world to its knees for a day. A single, one second pulse was able to stop everything, traffic stuck on bridges, planes grounded on runways, people fleeing from skyscrapers. I can't blame them. When the air around you starts to vibrate like you are standing in front of a loudspeaker at a concert for no apparent reason, I think you are justified in panicking. Overall, that first pulse caused little damage. Some delicate stained glass shattered, thousands of car accidents, three or maybe four planes crashed on runways, nothing too major. The entire world felt this pulse, throbbing everywhere.
The second time, I figured people would adapt faster. Maybe get back to work after an hour or two. Instead, it was worse. Two days, two days of the world standing still! Businesses closed, highways stopped, planes grounded. This was a week after the first pulse! Only one week! It’s not like you can forget about that first pulse that quick! Granted, it was two pulses, probably about two seconds long and three seconds apart, which made the air ring like a plucked guitar string, but still, nothing had happened. We were all still there. Damages from those two pulses was more severe than the last pulse: Windows on the top floors of skyscrapers shattered, paintings and shelves fell down, millions of car accidents, some old TV towers collapsed. Again, not too bad. A unified task force was appointed to figure out the nature of these pulses. All we had to do was wait. They turned their instruments to the ground, and we all held our breath.
The next series was irregular. Almost a slow melody of five notes, no two the same length, no two the same pitch. Something a child might have composed. It occurred four days after the two pulses, and it seemed to be stronger. The pulses shook you down to the bones, all the way in your heart. The first set of deaths were directly attributed to this. The vibrations were too much for some of our older folks. The other damages were quite numerous. Several planes fell from the sky after the vibrations ripped the fuselages apart, a couple of buildings collapsed, the remaining windows across the world shattered. Overall, a global state of emergency. The task force turned up nothing. They said, with a 70 percent confidence in their numbers that the vibrations weren't coming from the ground. Something else was causing them. We braced ourselves for the next wave, surely to be worse than the previous ones.
The next day seemed to take an eternity. Injuries were patched up, roads were cleared, and emergency supplies were distributed. Several riots broke out. Then it came in: the pulses which would change everything: A single pulse, then something remarkable. The air was speaking. At least, that's what it felt like. The voice resonated everywhere around us, every corner of the earth, even within our own lungs. "We are coming. We will be in contact." The voice was deep, with a remarkably fluent grasp of English. Preparations broke out immediately, preparations for war, attempts to train diplomats and leaders about what our best idea of "intergalactic cultural competence" was, conspiracy theories, Area 51, Roswell, the whole nine yards.
That was 50 years ago to this day. No other pulses, no spaceships in the sky, nothing. All we have is that promise made to us with our own air: "We are coming." The conspiracy theorists have raged on and on, but I still think that somewhere, something is coming for us, and I'm not sure whether to greet them with open arms or to be terrified of the damage they can cause. I can’t tell you what to think, but I worry for humanity, whenever they decide to contact us again. You should too.
| "First time I noticed, old Tom handed me a pint and it shook in his hand. Thought the poor lad had Parkinson's or something! But it happened again. Round about every Sunday when I was in the pub. More or less every time, I'd be taking a sip and I'd spill it everywhere."
"The wife complains to me nearly every night now. They keep happening. That spice rack - the one I built for her for Christmas? - stupid thing just spills them out onto the counter. Fourteen jars smashed now so I've had to put a bar across it. It looks ugly now. Kitchen's a mess, we can't keep books on the shelves. Piles of them on the floor. And the telly stopped working. Now I have to read. Christ."
"Can't sleep anymore. Far worse than before, you know, daily. It's daily and it's nightly and it's awful."
"Still, when me and the wife have sex, she fuckin' *loves* it." | |
[WP] "I wasn't looking for a relationship either but then I met you." | I wasn't looking for a relationship either but then I met you.
I wasn't expecting a friend but neither were you.
The house was cold, damp, and filthy.
But you didn't care, you sat right there with me.
Food was scarce, and money was tight.
You always knew how to make things feel alright.
Time went on and things improved.
You stuck by my side, even when I moved.
The years were long, but your's were longer.
The day you died, was hollow and somber.
You showed me what it meant to be brave.
Every now and then I come visit your grave.
I lay on the ground next to your stone
and tell you how my life has grown.
You were more to me than just a stray.
I still think fondly of you to this day.
you were my dog until the end.
My hope, my strength, my best friend.
You weren't looking for a relationship either but then you met me.
But you found a friend and some company. | I rest my head on his chest, closing my eyes and feeling comfort in his breathing, his chest rising and falling. I could feel the rays of sunlight on my face, warming certain parts of my body and his, the warm beams shooting through the blinds.
I open my eyes as I feel him shift under me, his arm swinging around and running through my hair. I find my hand on his chest, feeling the rise along with my head, carefully mapping the grooves on his skin.
"Good morning." I hear from beside me, his sleepy voice bringing a welcomed break to the silence of the room.
"Morning." I reply, smiling, enjoying the contact of his body beside mine.
He reaches over to the beside table and grabs his phone, looking at the time then sighing heavily. I knew he had to go, that he had class in a few hours. Every bone in my body was waiting for him to declare it.
"I have to go before class starts, Finn." he says, confirming my fear, "I'll see you again tonight for coffee?"
"Yeah, sure." I reply quietly, moving off of my heated pillow.
"What's wrong?" he asks, eyebrows raised.
I stare off at the white wall in front of me, wondering how to gain the strength to reply to his question, or to just put it off. I open my mouth to speak, to dismiss him like every other night, but close it quickly. I don't want to be another lost memory.
"What are we, Jayson?" I ask, my voice slow, almost a whisper, "I don't know if I can be friends with benefits anymore." I finished, my stomach clenching and dropping, fear rising up my throat.
Jayson stares at me, and looks at his hands, now outside of the covers and sitting halfway up. "I wasn't looking for a relationship, to be honest," he starts, my eyes staring at him hard, I could tell he wasn't finished talking, "but, then I met you."
I close my eyes and break into a small smile, "No more friends with benefits?"
Jayson shuffles over to me in the small bed, and wraps his arms around me, giving me a kiss on my forehead. It's not the first time he's done it, and I hope it's not the last. He rests his head on my shoulder, and speaks quietly, "No. I... I don't think I want that anymore."
I feel a weight lift from my mind, sighing in relief. *Finally.*
***
***
www.thearcherswriting.wordpress.com | |
[WP] Use the random page feature on wikipedia until you get three names. The first person's name you get is the hero of the story. The second is the villain. The third is the reason they're fighting. | 1: Gyula Wlassics, a Hungarian Politician (1852 - 1937)
2: Hartwell W. Stubblefield, an American Street Racer (1907 - 1935)
3: Judith Wright, An Australian Poet and other things (1915 - 2000)
It was the year 1935. At a practice run on some race course Stubby's car veered off the track. Gyula Wlassics who was visiting America for some reason near the end of his life pulled a twenty year old Judith Wright away from where Stubby's car was heading. Stubby died in the crash.
The end. | 1 - Heroine - Michelle Branch, an American singer-songwriter and guitarist
2 - Villain - Peter David, a Grenadian politician
3 - Reason - Aldo Giordano, the Apostolic Nuncio to Venezuela
Alright, here goes nothing. My first post to this sub.
Music is not only the universal language that unites us all, but a basic human right. Or so thought Michelle, as she perched on the concrete ledge overlooking the Caribbean Sea. The wind blew her hair into eyes, and the waves crashed over the rocks below, but she scarcely noticed over the symphony of thoughts playing through her mind. She reached for her guitar as she felt that elusive stirring inside her, the one that made her grab her iPhone, open up the microphone, and begin recording.
"My religion is your song, I dance to your beat. The only time when I belong, is when our voices meet."
"No that isn't right, too cheesy," she thought. She stopped, squinting as the sun, large and round, reflected off the water below. Michelle had come here to Grenada to escape the pressures of a pop rock star and to find inspiration for her music. So far though, she was having trouble leaving it all behind at the airport. Sighing, she stuffed her iPhone into her pocket, slung her guitar over her shoulder, and wandered along the divider overlooking the ocean. Raising a hand to block the sun, she spotted a lone figure who appeared to be engrossed in prayer. As she drew near, the older man turned and his kind face wrinkled into a smile.
"I see I'm not the only one enjoying the beauty of God's world. My name is Aldo Giordano . Pardon my forwardness, but you aren't from here, are you?
Michelle smiled. "How could you tell?" she joked. "Was it my fair skin or my American clothing? Oh, and I'm Michelle."
"Neither," Aldo responded. "It takes an outsider and a dreamer to truly appreciate this view. You have the look of both. I too hail from afar. I grew up in Italy in the Catholic Church; I received my ordination there before I was appointed to Venezuela. I've always been a dreamer, and you could say that's why I'm here now in Grenada."
Michelle grinned shyly, replying, "Yeah, you have me pegged there. Sometimes my dreams get the best of my sensibility. She looked over the pounding waves, adjusting her guitar on her shoulder. Did that happen to you too?"
Aldo chuckled. "You could say that, but I think I'm here for a reason." He frowned. "A local politician, he goes by the name of Peter David, he is pushing for legislature prohibiting any form of religious expression on public land. Anything from folding my hands in pray, to singing a song mentioning God could land me in jail for a day if his plan is adopted."
The two gazed out over the empty ocean. Michelle hesitated, unsure of what to say as she thought about Aldo's words. She had just met the man, but felt oddly at peace by his side. The island birds flew in dizzying circles above them, and the sun cast long shadows upon the rocky beach below, when suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of squealing tires coming from behind them. As Michelle turned to look, a tall man stepped out of a black SUV and began rapidly approaching them.
"Aldo!" the man exclaimed, "did I not instruct you to remove your sorry ass from my island? Why are you still here?"
"Ahh, Peter. I had a feeling I would be seeing you soon." Aldo winked at Michelle. "I was just telling my new friend here about your new agenda. As you know, I'm here for the people on this island whose religious freedom is at risk."
"I don't give a crap," shouted Peter. "I have had enough of your meddling in my affairs. I'll give you two options. Either you say goodbye to your stupid little friend and leave now, or I will force you to come with me and *ensure you never return to this island again.* Do you understand me?"
Scarcely thinking, Michelle grabbed her guitar off her back, brandishing like a weapon. "Back off you freak! How you dare you threaten him, a man of god?"
Peter scoffed, but backed up cautiously, muttering "Crazy bitch," when all of a sudden Aldo firmly grasped Michelle's arm, preventing her from swinging. "Not this way, Michelle," he said quietly. She glanced up at him, startled.
"You've been warned, Giordano!" Peter shouted as he made a hasty retreat back to the safety of his vehicle.
Aldo sighed. "I know you meant well Michelle, but my life is in good hands. There is no need for violence." His long and wrinkled fingers clenched the concrete ledge, as he uttered, "It is not our job to take matters into our own hands, but merely to fulfill the role God has placed before us. Take care my young friend, it has been a pleasure, but I must get ready for the days ahead."
With a wink, Aldo turned and left. Michelle watched him go, pondering the events that had transpired. What was her role? The breeze, now cool, carried mist from the ocean and with it, the beginning of an idea. She grabbed her iPhone, picked up her guitar and began singing to herself.
"On an island, there is a man. His life's at risk, but he's in good hands. For he is a man of God."
| |
[WP] Use the random page feature on wikipedia until you get three names. The first person's name you get is the hero of the story. The second is the villain. The third is the reason they're fighting. | **Hero:** [Sir John Watson Gibson](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Watson_Gibson) OBE (1885–1947) was an English civil engineer, key in developing the water supply infrastructure in the former British Empire, and instrumental in the design of Mulberry Harbour used in the Normandy landings
**Villain:** [Shamawd Chambers](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shamawd_Chambers) (born March 10, 1989 in Markham, Ontario) is a Canadian football wide receiver who is currently playing with the Edmonton Eskimos
**Reason:** [Juci Komlós](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Juci_Koml%C3%B3s) (10 February 1919 - 5 April 2011) was a Hungarian film actress.
*Sir Waterboy*
The noble Sir Gibson had once been a humble waterboy. Every day, he would offer the athletes only the purest H20. But he was ridiculed. He was mocked. The football players would hold him upside down and dunk his head into his own bucket of spring water. But as a lad, Jonny Gibson never gave up on his team. No matter how his team treated him, he’d ensure they still had the best.
Years Later, World War I began. He went to the recruiter. They refused him! He wanted to fight for his country! He wanted his team to win! His best friend Buck made the cut, but he didn’t… none the less, he still did all he could to help, and while all the other men were fighting a war for the survival their country, he left Europe and traveled abroad, increasing his education and skills.
It was on these journeys that he ran into the lovely Juci! She was the most beautiful women he had ever met, one who had aspirations of becoming an actress. They met in New York City, where she was studying to become a film actress. She was an immigrant, of lowly birth, and had no money to provide for herself. Jonny found her in a back alley near death. She was so desperate for water that she was slurping water from a mud puddle. He immediately grabbed one of his canteens, lifted her chin, and quenched her thirst with pure water he had brought from the glaciers in the Hungarian Alps. She herself was from Hungary, and as soon as the water touch her lips, her first raspy words were, “this… is… from… my homeland… I can taste it!” He brought her to a hospital, and paid them to take care of her. But he couldn’t stay and get to know this beautiful young woman, he had to leave Juci behind and get back to Europe, for a new World War was beginning! And he had to help his home team!
During WWII he performed the task as waterboy once again, but at a higher level, only this time he was appreciated! He ensured that British people had quality drinking water during the War to end all Wars. He even used his superior knowledge of H20 to create mobile harbours which were used to invade Normandy! Everyone loved him! Nearly everyone…
He had become so popular that Juci was finally able to locate him again. She greeted him with “You are the most important man in my life, for you saved it! It belongs only to you!” He was nervous, as he had never hoped to be in love. He had only expected the rejection that a waterboy has come to expect in romance. But this woman loved him. She had even started acting! She had everything going for her! And it seemed that with Juci in his life, Jonny might finally have everything going for him. But nothing was ever that easy…
It was indeed a small world! For, one of Jonny Gibson childhood bullies just happened have been Juci’s ex-fiancé. His name was Shamawd Chambers. Sham was a football player. He was one of the ones who used to dunk Jonny into the water bucket. Sham had even abandoned his own nation’s football team and had joined Canada’s instead. As soon as Sham had heard of how “the Waterboy” from school was courting his old flame, he flew over from Canada.
One day, as Jonny was testing the PH level in a rooftop water tower, he felt a hand grasp firmly around his leg and drag him down the short ladder. Jonny barely managed to land upright and on his feet. He spun around and saw his old childhood bully. “Chambers! What are you doing here!” said Jonny in surprise. “I go by Sham. I hear you are with my Juci, eh?” “Yes, that’s true!” “I am not about to let a waterboy like you end up with a gal like Juci, eh!” “Why?!” The football player grabbed Jonny and pulled him near. He whispered to Jonny, “She dumped me. So, if I can’t have her, then neither can you, Waterboy, eh!” Then with that he moved Jonny aside, and he walked away.
Well poor Jonny was a timid creature, and so he began avoiding all contact with his beloved Juci. She tried to reach him, to contact him. But to no avail. And so she went back to her home country. She went on to become an actress in the popular Hungarian soap opera ‘Neighbors’.
Jonny was eventually knighted for being a good team player. Juci even showed up, with her entourage, to show her support! But Jonny was too scared to talk to her.
He was after all, only a lowly waterboy…
(This is a very much not-historically accurate work of fiction!)
| 1 - Heroine - Michelle Branch, an American singer-songwriter and guitarist
2 - Villain - Peter David, a Grenadian politician
3 - Reason - Aldo Giordano, the Apostolic Nuncio to Venezuela
Alright, here goes nothing. My first post to this sub.
Music is not only the universal language that unites us all, but a basic human right. Or so thought Michelle, as she perched on the concrete ledge overlooking the Caribbean Sea. The wind blew her hair into eyes, and the waves crashed over the rocks below, but she scarcely noticed over the symphony of thoughts playing through her mind. She reached for her guitar as she felt that elusive stirring inside her, the one that made her grab her iPhone, open up the microphone, and begin recording.
"My religion is your song, I dance to your beat. The only time when I belong, is when our voices meet."
"No that isn't right, too cheesy," she thought. She stopped, squinting as the sun, large and round, reflected off the water below. Michelle had come here to Grenada to escape the pressures of a pop rock star and to find inspiration for her music. So far though, she was having trouble leaving it all behind at the airport. Sighing, she stuffed her iPhone into her pocket, slung her guitar over her shoulder, and wandered along the divider overlooking the ocean. Raising a hand to block the sun, she spotted a lone figure who appeared to be engrossed in prayer. As she drew near, the older man turned and his kind face wrinkled into a smile.
"I see I'm not the only one enjoying the beauty of God's world. My name is Aldo Giordano . Pardon my forwardness, but you aren't from here, are you?
Michelle smiled. "How could you tell?" she joked. "Was it my fair skin or my American clothing? Oh, and I'm Michelle."
"Neither," Aldo responded. "It takes an outsider and a dreamer to truly appreciate this view. You have the look of both. I too hail from afar. I grew up in Italy in the Catholic Church; I received my ordination there before I was appointed to Venezuela. I've always been a dreamer, and you could say that's why I'm here now in Grenada."
Michelle grinned shyly, replying, "Yeah, you have me pegged there. Sometimes my dreams get the best of my sensibility. She looked over the pounding waves, adjusting her guitar on her shoulder. Did that happen to you too?"
Aldo chuckled. "You could say that, but I think I'm here for a reason." He frowned. "A local politician, he goes by the name of Peter David, he is pushing for legislature prohibiting any form of religious expression on public land. Anything from folding my hands in pray, to singing a song mentioning God could land me in jail for a day if his plan is adopted."
The two gazed out over the empty ocean. Michelle hesitated, unsure of what to say as she thought about Aldo's words. She had just met the man, but felt oddly at peace by his side. The island birds flew in dizzying circles above them, and the sun cast long shadows upon the rocky beach below, when suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of squealing tires coming from behind them. As Michelle turned to look, a tall man stepped out of a black SUV and began rapidly approaching them.
"Aldo!" the man exclaimed, "did I not instruct you to remove your sorry ass from my island? Why are you still here?"
"Ahh, Peter. I had a feeling I would be seeing you soon." Aldo winked at Michelle. "I was just telling my new friend here about your new agenda. As you know, I'm here for the people on this island whose religious freedom is at risk."
"I don't give a crap," shouted Peter. "I have had enough of your meddling in my affairs. I'll give you two options. Either you say goodbye to your stupid little friend and leave now, or I will force you to come with me and *ensure you never return to this island again.* Do you understand me?"
Scarcely thinking, Michelle grabbed her guitar off her back, brandishing like a weapon. "Back off you freak! How you dare you threaten him, a man of god?"
Peter scoffed, but backed up cautiously, muttering "Crazy bitch," when all of a sudden Aldo firmly grasped Michelle's arm, preventing her from swinging. "Not this way, Michelle," he said quietly. She glanced up at him, startled.
"You've been warned, Giordano!" Peter shouted as he made a hasty retreat back to the safety of his vehicle.
Aldo sighed. "I know you meant well Michelle, but my life is in good hands. There is no need for violence." His long and wrinkled fingers clenched the concrete ledge, as he uttered, "It is not our job to take matters into our own hands, but merely to fulfill the role God has placed before us. Take care my young friend, it has been a pleasure, but I must get ready for the days ahead."
With a wink, Aldo turned and left. Michelle watched him go, pondering the events that had transpired. What was her role? The breeze, now cool, carried mist from the ocean and with it, the beginning of an idea. She grabbed her iPhone, picked up her guitar and began singing to herself.
"On an island, there is a man. His life's at risk, but he's in good hands. For he is a man of God."
| |
[WP] Use the random page feature on wikipedia until you get three names. The first person's name you get is the hero of the story. The second is the villain. The third is the reason they're fighting. | Heroine: [Helen Kleinbort Krauze](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helen_Kleinbort_Krauze)
Villain: [Christopher Stephen Grayling] (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chris_Grayling)
Reason: [Valentin Stansel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valentin_Stansel)
---
It has been almost twenty years since the Heaven's Gate cult had committed mass suicide for the purpose or riding a comet into the cosmos.
Helen had interviewed the families of the victims after it had happened, and what she discovered was that the cult was composed of people who were depressed or suicidal already. Some of them didn't even believe in the promise of Hale-Bopp. They just wanted their own lives to end.
Helen had wanted to run a "Where are they now" piece, as a way to remind people that there would always be victims of tragedy, so she started searching the internet for those people she had met so long ago.
The first thing she discovers is the old Heaven's Gate website. Despite the years since it was relevant, someone had gone to the trouble of keeping it funded. The site, with it's mid-nineties graphics and "Message of Hope" from Applewhite and Nettles is still available for public browsing. That isn't too surprising. A lot of websites from that era are still maintained, even if the people paying for the maintenance costs aren't aware of it.
As she is about to close the page, Helen notices a bit of flashing text at the bottom of the screen. In that old style of hypertext were five words.
"We know they were wrong."
The words weren't on the webpage when she had first clicked over to it, but they are there now. Someone is editing the page and linking to another place.
Her reporter's instincts kick in and she clicks the next link. Now, before her was another webpage, still bearing the Heaven's Gate logo, but referring to a different celestial body. According to the text on the page, the Estancel-Gottignies Comet is due to make another circuit around the Earth in a few months, and the "faithful" are being called to Surrey, England to prepare for their ascension.
A quick check with the European Space Agency website confirms her suspicion. That comet is coming again. It would be visible in the northern hemisphere on September 25th.
Suddenly, Helen has a new mission. Even if this is some cruel hoax, she couldn't risk doing nothing. Her first step is to forward the information to INTERPOL, but she can't wait for them to respond.
Helen know she has to get out there and prevent another mass suicide. Thankfully, her passport is up to date and she is cleared for travel to the UK. She informed her family and friends of her itinerary and set off for Heathrow.
By the time she has landed, the website has updated again with co-ordinates for the new cult base and instructions on what to bring. No phones, no tablets, no computers, enough changes of clothing to last thirteen days and no food with artificial coloring or flavoring. Whoever was setting this up wanted them to believe they were "pure" enough to be claimed by the spaceship in the comet's tail.
Fortunately, in this modern era, technology allows reporters to get information without having to be there in person. Helen purchases a quadcopter drone and with the help of the Sony store clerk, fits it to carry a small video camera which would relay the footage back to her phone.
The drone flies over the compound while Helen controls it from a quarter mile away. A pastoral place, with no power lines, and the only source of water seeming to be pumps drawing from groundwater. Of course. If you're going to set up a cult, it's best to be off the grid.
As her drone reaches the limit of its range, she noticed a parking lot half a mile from the main compound. The three vehicles were all Black SUV's, and though she couldn't get the quadcopter close enough to read the license plates, it is clear from the color and shape of the plates that these are government cars. Was INTERPOL already here? Part of her wants to believe that, until one of the agents in the car draws a bead on her drone and shoots it down with his sidearm.
Realizing she had overstayed her welcome, Helen gets into a taxi and has the driver take a circuit around the county until she is certain that any tails had been lost.
Once back at her hotel, Helen uploads her video files to her contact at INTERPOL, Agent Gwendolyn Fitzgerald, and sits back for a moment, before a sharp knock comes at her door. She hadn't ordered any room service, and her friends at INTERPOL would have called ahead. Sensing something amiss, Helen turns on her spare phone's voice recorder and tucks it into the top of her pantyhose, hiding it underneath her skirt and blouse. After taking a deep breath, she goes straight to the door.
"Yes, how can I help you?" She asks of the two men in black suits once the deadbolt was off.
"Mrs Krause, you need to come with us. It's a matter of national security. We're also going to need to confiscate your phone." The security agent holds out his hand and she places her main phone into it, with feigned reluctance.
The men lead her from the hotel out the back, and down a block to an otherwise empty cafe. There, sitting in the central table, surrounded by more of his bodyguards, is the Leader of the House of Commons, Christoper Grayling.
"It's such a pleasure to meet such an esteemed journalist, Mrs Krause." He says by way of introduction. "Now, my men tell me that you've been looking into the Heaven's Gate Compound in Surrey. I wonder why?"
"Because for it to happen once is a tragedy." She cannot continue her thought, as one of the bodyguards starts frisking her. "Are you really going to pat down a seventy year-old woman?" She fixes the guard with a death glare and he immediately backs off.
"As I was saying, Lord President, for the mass suicide to happen once was a tragedy. For it to happen twice is a crime against humanity. There is no alien vessel in that comet's tail, and to make people believe so is preying on their own insecurities." Helen takes her seat carefully.
"Indeed. Such a thing should be prevented. It is almost a shame that I had to set it into motion."
Could he really be this evil? Helen shakes her head. "Would you care to repeat that? I am getting along in my years."
"Of course. I created the new Heaven's Gate. I chose an obscure comet set to come back as the trigger for a new event. And I set up one of my former aides as the new version of Applewhite to lead the flock to their next life."
Helen drums her fingers on the table and stares unblinkingly at him. "But that would make you an accessory to mass murder."
"Oh no. I would be the hero of the story. It's quite simple. Acting on an 'anonymous' tip, I would bring the police and INTERPOL into the compound the day before the comet was to make its appearance and rescue all the cultists. It would be the perfect cap to my career, and the end to any accusations of corruption." Grayling drinks from his tea cup and smiles at the aged reporter before him.
"And you're telling me this, why?" Helen keeps her face passive.
"Because you're going to sign a non-disclosure agreement right here and now, saying that you won't reveal anything you've discovered to the press for thirty years." Grayling slides the paper across the table. "You wouldn't want to create an international incident, would you?"
Helen looks at the paper and laughs. "So, your brilliant plan was to become a hero for people who are so suicidal that they'd just kill themselves a few days after the rescue? I have to tell you, Lord President, I can take down your plan with just six words."
"Oh really? What words might they be?" Grayling's face loses its calm demeanor.
"Siri, send recording to Agent Fitzgerald." There's a beep from the phone in her waistband, and the digital assistant chimes in. "Recording sent to Agent Fitzgerald."
Helen stands up, grinning at the Lord President and his guards, who all draw their guns. "Now now, boys. Shooting a Mexican journalist in a British cafe? You wouldn't want to create an international incident." Turning to the guard who had confiscated her phone, she gives him that death glare again. "I'll be taking my other phone back now." | 1 - Heroine - Michelle Branch, an American singer-songwriter and guitarist
2 - Villain - Peter David, a Grenadian politician
3 - Reason - Aldo Giordano, the Apostolic Nuncio to Venezuela
Alright, here goes nothing. My first post to this sub.
Music is not only the universal language that unites us all, but a basic human right. Or so thought Michelle, as she perched on the concrete ledge overlooking the Caribbean Sea. The wind blew her hair into eyes, and the waves crashed over the rocks below, but she scarcely noticed over the symphony of thoughts playing through her mind. She reached for her guitar as she felt that elusive stirring inside her, the one that made her grab her iPhone, open up the microphone, and begin recording.
"My religion is your song, I dance to your beat. The only time when I belong, is when our voices meet."
"No that isn't right, too cheesy," she thought. She stopped, squinting as the sun, large and round, reflected off the water below. Michelle had come here to Grenada to escape the pressures of a pop rock star and to find inspiration for her music. So far though, she was having trouble leaving it all behind at the airport. Sighing, she stuffed her iPhone into her pocket, slung her guitar over her shoulder, and wandered along the divider overlooking the ocean. Raising a hand to block the sun, she spotted a lone figure who appeared to be engrossed in prayer. As she drew near, the older man turned and his kind face wrinkled into a smile.
"I see I'm not the only one enjoying the beauty of God's world. My name is Aldo Giordano . Pardon my forwardness, but you aren't from here, are you?
Michelle smiled. "How could you tell?" she joked. "Was it my fair skin or my American clothing? Oh, and I'm Michelle."
"Neither," Aldo responded. "It takes an outsider and a dreamer to truly appreciate this view. You have the look of both. I too hail from afar. I grew up in Italy in the Catholic Church; I received my ordination there before I was appointed to Venezuela. I've always been a dreamer, and you could say that's why I'm here now in Grenada."
Michelle grinned shyly, replying, "Yeah, you have me pegged there. Sometimes my dreams get the best of my sensibility. She looked over the pounding waves, adjusting her guitar on her shoulder. Did that happen to you too?"
Aldo chuckled. "You could say that, but I think I'm here for a reason." He frowned. "A local politician, he goes by the name of Peter David, he is pushing for legislature prohibiting any form of religious expression on public land. Anything from folding my hands in pray, to singing a song mentioning God could land me in jail for a day if his plan is adopted."
The two gazed out over the empty ocean. Michelle hesitated, unsure of what to say as she thought about Aldo's words. She had just met the man, but felt oddly at peace by his side. The island birds flew in dizzying circles above them, and the sun cast long shadows upon the rocky beach below, when suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of squealing tires coming from behind them. As Michelle turned to look, a tall man stepped out of a black SUV and began rapidly approaching them.
"Aldo!" the man exclaimed, "did I not instruct you to remove your sorry ass from my island? Why are you still here?"
"Ahh, Peter. I had a feeling I would be seeing you soon." Aldo winked at Michelle. "I was just telling my new friend here about your new agenda. As you know, I'm here for the people on this island whose religious freedom is at risk."
"I don't give a crap," shouted Peter. "I have had enough of your meddling in my affairs. I'll give you two options. Either you say goodbye to your stupid little friend and leave now, or I will force you to come with me and *ensure you never return to this island again.* Do you understand me?"
Scarcely thinking, Michelle grabbed her guitar off her back, brandishing like a weapon. "Back off you freak! How you dare you threaten him, a man of god?"
Peter scoffed, but backed up cautiously, muttering "Crazy bitch," when all of a sudden Aldo firmly grasped Michelle's arm, preventing her from swinging. "Not this way, Michelle," he said quietly. She glanced up at him, startled.
"You've been warned, Giordano!" Peter shouted as he made a hasty retreat back to the safety of his vehicle.
Aldo sighed. "I know you meant well Michelle, but my life is in good hands. There is no need for violence." His long and wrinkled fingers clenched the concrete ledge, as he uttered, "It is not our job to take matters into our own hands, but merely to fulfill the role God has placed before us. Take care my young friend, it has been a pleasure, but I must get ready for the days ahead."
With a wink, Aldo turned and left. Michelle watched him go, pondering the events that had transpired. What was her role? The breeze, now cool, carried mist from the ocean and with it, the beginning of an idea. She grabbed her iPhone, picked up her guitar and began singing to herself.
"On an island, there is a man. His life's at risk, but he's in good hands. For he is a man of God."
| |
[WP] Use the random page feature on wikipedia until you get three names. The first person's name you get is the hero of the story. The second is the villain. The third is the reason they're fighting. | **Hero:** [Sir John Watson Gibson](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Watson_Gibson) OBE (1885–1947) was an English civil engineer, key in developing the water supply infrastructure in the former British Empire, and instrumental in the design of Mulberry Harbour used in the Normandy landings
**Villain:** [Shamawd Chambers](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shamawd_Chambers) (born March 10, 1989 in Markham, Ontario) is a Canadian football wide receiver who is currently playing with the Edmonton Eskimos
**Reason:** [Juci Komlós](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Juci_Koml%C3%B3s) (10 February 1919 - 5 April 2011) was a Hungarian film actress.
*Sir Waterboy*
The noble Sir Gibson had once been a humble waterboy. Every day, he would offer the athletes only the purest H20. But he was ridiculed. He was mocked. The football players would hold him upside down and dunk his head into his own bucket of spring water. But as a lad, Jonny Gibson never gave up on his team. No matter how his team treated him, he’d ensure they still had the best.
Years Later, World War I began. He went to the recruiter. They refused him! He wanted to fight for his country! He wanted his team to win! His best friend Buck made the cut, but he didn’t… none the less, he still did all he could to help, and while all the other men were fighting a war for the survival their country, he left Europe and traveled abroad, increasing his education and skills.
It was on these journeys that he ran into the lovely Juci! She was the most beautiful women he had ever met, one who had aspirations of becoming an actress. They met in New York City, where she was studying to become a film actress. She was an immigrant, of lowly birth, and had no money to provide for herself. Jonny found her in a back alley near death. She was so desperate for water that she was slurping water from a mud puddle. He immediately grabbed one of his canteens, lifted her chin, and quenched her thirst with pure water he had brought from the glaciers in the Hungarian Alps. She herself was from Hungary, and as soon as the water touch her lips, her first raspy words were, “this… is… from… my homeland… I can taste it!” He brought her to a hospital, and paid them to take care of her. But he couldn’t stay and get to know this beautiful young woman, he had to leave Juci behind and get back to Europe, for a new World War was beginning! And he had to help his home team!
During WWII he performed the task as waterboy once again, but at a higher level, only this time he was appreciated! He ensured that British people had quality drinking water during the War to end all Wars. He even used his superior knowledge of H20 to create mobile harbours which were used to invade Normandy! Everyone loved him! Nearly everyone…
He had become so popular that Juci was finally able to locate him again. She greeted him with “You are the most important man in my life, for you saved it! It belongs only to you!” He was nervous, as he had never hoped to be in love. He had only expected the rejection that a waterboy has come to expect in romance. But this woman loved him. She had even started acting! She had everything going for her! And it seemed that with Juci in his life, Jonny might finally have everything going for him. But nothing was ever that easy…
It was indeed a small world! For, one of Jonny Gibson childhood bullies just happened have been Juci’s ex-fiancé. His name was Shamawd Chambers. Sham was a football player. He was one of the ones who used to dunk Jonny into the water bucket. Sham had even abandoned his own nation’s football team and had joined Canada’s instead. As soon as Sham had heard of how “the Waterboy” from school was courting his old flame, he flew over from Canada.
One day, as Jonny was testing the PH level in a rooftop water tower, he felt a hand grasp firmly around his leg and drag him down the short ladder. Jonny barely managed to land upright and on his feet. He spun around and saw his old childhood bully. “Chambers! What are you doing here!” said Jonny in surprise. “I go by Sham. I hear you are with my Juci, eh?” “Yes, that’s true!” “I am not about to let a waterboy like you end up with a gal like Juci, eh!” “Why?!” The football player grabbed Jonny and pulled him near. He whispered to Jonny, “She dumped me. So, if I can’t have her, then neither can you, Waterboy, eh!” Then with that he moved Jonny aside, and he walked away.
Well poor Jonny was a timid creature, and so he began avoiding all contact with his beloved Juci. She tried to reach him, to contact him. But to no avail. And so she went back to her home country. She went on to become an actress in the popular Hungarian soap opera ‘Neighbors’.
Jonny was eventually knighted for being a good team player. Juci even showed up, with her entourage, to show her support! But Jonny was too scared to talk to her.
He was after all, only a lowly waterboy…
(This is a very much not-historically accurate work of fiction!)
| And that, folks is all you need to be an author. I heard Bill Shakespeare used a version of that technique. | |
[WP] Use the random page feature on wikipedia until you get three names. The first person's name you get is the hero of the story. The second is the villain. The third is the reason they're fighting. | "Oh come on!" screamed Daphne Zuniga as she pressed the Random button again.
"What the hell are you screaming for?" asked her roommate, Lady Ann Clifford. Daphne had been angrily fuming at her computer for hours, something that Ann didn't mind. But this was the first time that she verbally lashed out her anger.
"I'm writing a story for Writing Prompts where I have to click the random button on Wikipedia until I got three names then use those names for the story. But the fucking website won't cooperate!"
Ann gave an exasperated sigh. "That's hardly something to get frustrated about. Why don't you rest for a bit? Maybe you'll have better luck later?"
Daphne stretched her arms and got up the chair. "Maybe you're right. I'll ask Davey if he's up for a threesome."
Ann narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Oh, no you don't. It's my turn to have my way with him this evening, got it?"
"Hey, not fair! I let you join us yesterday! We even role played as Victoria Davis and Princess Vespa! Why won't you let me join you tonight?"
"I have some positions that I want to test out and I don't want you to see them." boasted Ann.
Daphne scoffed. "You and your Kama Sutra. Learn from the master and get ideas from film dumbass!"
"You can take your films and shove it. I'll stick with my books."
Daphne grinned a predatory grin.
"Oh, really? Wanna bet that I can get Davey to climax better than you can?" she said. She licked her lips in anticipation.
"Loser pays the bills for next month."
"Deal!"
That night, neither women won because Davey fainted before they could ask him. Ann eventually helped Daphne on her prompt.
The end.
---
Characters
Daphne Zuniga (actress)
Lady Ann Clifford (literary figure)
Davey (surname)
| Pam Tillis
Albert Handcock, 5th Baron Castlemaine
U.S. Senate
Pam and her dog Lucky were finally reunited on this day, the day befor the last. The country singer and her shitty modern pop music were riding the wave of falsified success in this golden era of cultured idiots. The media had a field day with this story, endlessly broadcasting its irrelevance nationwide.
This reunion of woman and k9 caused such an uproar the U.S. Senate shoved a bill through that gave dogs equal rights, allowing homosexual dogs the privilege of marriage, amongst other things. They also dedicated September 23rd National Dog Day. Owners everywhere were wedding their dogs.
Proud cat owner Albert Handcock, 5th Baron Castlemain became enraged with all the attention dogs were receiving. The tyrannical landowner dognapped Pams beloved k9 and left this ransom note.
I've taken your faggot dog untill you stop making shitty music. Also I would have it illegal for gay dogs to wed.
Handcock
So distraught over losing her beloved dog once again, Pam did the only thing she could think of. She wrote another shitty country song about her missing dog. But this time it was so horrendous it started prison riots and even a civil war. Inner city inhabitants formed militias and called for a national uprising against the flag for some unknown reason.
After a few days of chaotic rioting, looting, and dogs defecating on the U.S. flag, Pam realized what she had to do. She released a statement of her resignation as a country singer. She went to Handcocks estate to retrieve her hostage dog. As promised he released Lucky to his owner. Order was restored and Pam was viewed as a hero. In November she ran for office, and of course, was elected president of the U.S.
Two days later, Albert Handcock, 5th Baron Castlemain was found dead at his estate. Policed reported a self inflicted gun shot to the head and cat shit everywhere. | |
[WP] Use the random page feature on wikipedia until you get three names. The first person's name you get is the hero of the story. The second is the villain. The third is the reason they're fighting. | Heroine: [Helen Kleinbort Krauze](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helen_Kleinbort_Krauze)
Villain: [Christopher Stephen Grayling] (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chris_Grayling)
Reason: [Valentin Stansel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valentin_Stansel)
---
It has been almost twenty years since the Heaven's Gate cult had committed mass suicide for the purpose or riding a comet into the cosmos.
Helen had interviewed the families of the victims after it had happened, and what she discovered was that the cult was composed of people who were depressed or suicidal already. Some of them didn't even believe in the promise of Hale-Bopp. They just wanted their own lives to end.
Helen had wanted to run a "Where are they now" piece, as a way to remind people that there would always be victims of tragedy, so she started searching the internet for those people she had met so long ago.
The first thing she discovers is the old Heaven's Gate website. Despite the years since it was relevant, someone had gone to the trouble of keeping it funded. The site, with it's mid-nineties graphics and "Message of Hope" from Applewhite and Nettles is still available for public browsing. That isn't too surprising. A lot of websites from that era are still maintained, even if the people paying for the maintenance costs aren't aware of it.
As she is about to close the page, Helen notices a bit of flashing text at the bottom of the screen. In that old style of hypertext were five words.
"We know they were wrong."
The words weren't on the webpage when she had first clicked over to it, but they are there now. Someone is editing the page and linking to another place.
Her reporter's instincts kick in and she clicks the next link. Now, before her was another webpage, still bearing the Heaven's Gate logo, but referring to a different celestial body. According to the text on the page, the Estancel-Gottignies Comet is due to make another circuit around the Earth in a few months, and the "faithful" are being called to Surrey, England to prepare for their ascension.
A quick check with the European Space Agency website confirms her suspicion. That comet is coming again. It would be visible in the northern hemisphere on September 25th.
Suddenly, Helen has a new mission. Even if this is some cruel hoax, she couldn't risk doing nothing. Her first step is to forward the information to INTERPOL, but she can't wait for them to respond.
Helen know she has to get out there and prevent another mass suicide. Thankfully, her passport is up to date and she is cleared for travel to the UK. She informed her family and friends of her itinerary and set off for Heathrow.
By the time she has landed, the website has updated again with co-ordinates for the new cult base and instructions on what to bring. No phones, no tablets, no computers, enough changes of clothing to last thirteen days and no food with artificial coloring or flavoring. Whoever was setting this up wanted them to believe they were "pure" enough to be claimed by the spaceship in the comet's tail.
Fortunately, in this modern era, technology allows reporters to get information without having to be there in person. Helen purchases a quadcopter drone and with the help of the Sony store clerk, fits it to carry a small video camera which would relay the footage back to her phone.
The drone flies over the compound while Helen controls it from a quarter mile away. A pastoral place, with no power lines, and the only source of water seeming to be pumps drawing from groundwater. Of course. If you're going to set up a cult, it's best to be off the grid.
As her drone reaches the limit of its range, she noticed a parking lot half a mile from the main compound. The three vehicles were all Black SUV's, and though she couldn't get the quadcopter close enough to read the license plates, it is clear from the color and shape of the plates that these are government cars. Was INTERPOL already here? Part of her wants to believe that, until one of the agents in the car draws a bead on her drone and shoots it down with his sidearm.
Realizing she had overstayed her welcome, Helen gets into a taxi and has the driver take a circuit around the county until she is certain that any tails had been lost.
Once back at her hotel, Helen uploads her video files to her contact at INTERPOL, Agent Gwendolyn Fitzgerald, and sits back for a moment, before a sharp knock comes at her door. She hadn't ordered any room service, and her friends at INTERPOL would have called ahead. Sensing something amiss, Helen turns on her spare phone's voice recorder and tucks it into the top of her pantyhose, hiding it underneath her skirt and blouse. After taking a deep breath, she goes straight to the door.
"Yes, how can I help you?" She asks of the two men in black suits once the deadbolt was off.
"Mrs Krause, you need to come with us. It's a matter of national security. We're also going to need to confiscate your phone." The security agent holds out his hand and she places her main phone into it, with feigned reluctance.
The men lead her from the hotel out the back, and down a block to an otherwise empty cafe. There, sitting in the central table, surrounded by more of his bodyguards, is the Leader of the House of Commons, Christoper Grayling.
"It's such a pleasure to meet such an esteemed journalist, Mrs Krause." He says by way of introduction. "Now, my men tell me that you've been looking into the Heaven's Gate Compound in Surrey. I wonder why?"
"Because for it to happen once is a tragedy." She cannot continue her thought, as one of the bodyguards starts frisking her. "Are you really going to pat down a seventy year-old woman?" She fixes the guard with a death glare and he immediately backs off.
"As I was saying, Lord President, for the mass suicide to happen once was a tragedy. For it to happen twice is a crime against humanity. There is no alien vessel in that comet's tail, and to make people believe so is preying on their own insecurities." Helen takes her seat carefully.
"Indeed. Such a thing should be prevented. It is almost a shame that I had to set it into motion."
Could he really be this evil? Helen shakes her head. "Would you care to repeat that? I am getting along in my years."
"Of course. I created the new Heaven's Gate. I chose an obscure comet set to come back as the trigger for a new event. And I set up one of my former aides as the new version of Applewhite to lead the flock to their next life."
Helen drums her fingers on the table and stares unblinkingly at him. "But that would make you an accessory to mass murder."
"Oh no. I would be the hero of the story. It's quite simple. Acting on an 'anonymous' tip, I would bring the police and INTERPOL into the compound the day before the comet was to make its appearance and rescue all the cultists. It would be the perfect cap to my career, and the end to any accusations of corruption." Grayling drinks from his tea cup and smiles at the aged reporter before him.
"And you're telling me this, why?" Helen keeps her face passive.
"Because you're going to sign a non-disclosure agreement right here and now, saying that you won't reveal anything you've discovered to the press for thirty years." Grayling slides the paper across the table. "You wouldn't want to create an international incident, would you?"
Helen looks at the paper and laughs. "So, your brilliant plan was to become a hero for people who are so suicidal that they'd just kill themselves a few days after the rescue? I have to tell you, Lord President, I can take down your plan with just six words."
"Oh really? What words might they be?" Grayling's face loses its calm demeanor.
"Siri, send recording to Agent Fitzgerald." There's a beep from the phone in her waistband, and the digital assistant chimes in. "Recording sent to Agent Fitzgerald."
Helen stands up, grinning at the Lord President and his guards, who all draw their guns. "Now now, boys. Shooting a Mexican journalist in a British cafe? You wouldn't want to create an international incident." Turning to the guard who had confiscated her phone, she gives him that death glare again. "I'll be taking my other phone back now." | Pam Tillis
Albert Handcock, 5th Baron Castlemaine
U.S. Senate
Pam and her dog Lucky were finally reunited on this day, the day befor the last. The country singer and her shitty modern pop music were riding the wave of falsified success in this golden era of cultured idiots. The media had a field day with this story, endlessly broadcasting its irrelevance nationwide.
This reunion of woman and k9 caused such an uproar the U.S. Senate shoved a bill through that gave dogs equal rights, allowing homosexual dogs the privilege of marriage, amongst other things. They also dedicated September 23rd National Dog Day. Owners everywhere were wedding their dogs.
Proud cat owner Albert Handcock, 5th Baron Castlemain became enraged with all the attention dogs were receiving. The tyrannical landowner dognapped Pams beloved k9 and left this ransom note.
I've taken your faggot dog untill you stop making shitty music. Also I would have it illegal for gay dogs to wed.
Handcock
So distraught over losing her beloved dog once again, Pam did the only thing she could think of. She wrote another shitty country song about her missing dog. But this time it was so horrendous it started prison riots and even a civil war. Inner city inhabitants formed militias and called for a national uprising against the flag for some unknown reason.
After a few days of chaotic rioting, looting, and dogs defecating on the U.S. flag, Pam realized what she had to do. She released a statement of her resignation as a country singer. She went to Handcocks estate to retrieve her hostage dog. As promised he released Lucky to his owner. Order was restored and Pam was viewed as a hero. In November she ran for office, and of course, was elected president of the U.S.
Two days later, Albert Handcock, 5th Baron Castlemain was found dead at his estate. Policed reported a self inflicted gun shot to the head and cat shit everywhere. | |
[WP] Use the random page feature on wikipedia until you get three names. The first person's name you get is the hero of the story. The second is the villain. The third is the reason they're fighting. | 1. The hero: [**Hideaki Okabe**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hideaki_Okabe) – born 1959, he is a Japanese politician of the Liberal Democratic Party, a member of the House of Representatives in the Diet (national legislature).
1. The villian: [**John Chamberlaine**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Chamberlaine) – born 1745, he was an antiquary and acted as keeper of George III's drawings, coins and medals from 1791 until his death in 1812.
1. The reason: [**Mihály Ivanicsics**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mih%C3%A1ly_Ivanicsics) – an international football referee in the 1920s and 1930s who lived 1893–1968.
---
[This story is incomplete right now. I skip from the middle to the end without explaining how the character got there.]
Hideaki started at the pile of papers in his inbox forlornly. He had thought being a politician would involve a lot more exciting debates. But most of his time was spent dealing with paperwork about meaningless minutia. In fact, he suspected one of his political rivals had purposefully arranged for him to be assigned the dullest work possible.
His current project was to research the refereeing of football, of all things, to see if it needed to be regulated. Should the government change the licensing requirements for referees? Should they start teaching refereeing during physical education classes in Japanese schools? These were the questions Hideaki would diligently answer – even though he sometimes wondered if anyone would actually read his report.
Hideaki picked up the document on the top of his inbox. It was an academic article he had requested a copy of a few days ago, titled “Ivanicsics – A Case Study in Refereeing”. With a sigh, he flipped past the title page and started reading.
After twenty minutes, something finally caught Hideaki’s eye amidst the clinical descriptions of fouls and free kicks. Apparently, when interviewed after one match, Mihály had described his decision-making philosophy for close calls. He always asked himself “what would John Chamberlaine do?”.
Who was John Chamberlaine? The unfamiliar name stuck out. Hideaki turned on his swivel chair to his computer and looked him up.
…
John Chamberlaine had preserved many of the drawings of King George III of Britain. The drawings had been photographed and put on a museum’s website. Hideaki discovered a coded message within them.
The message invited all future owners of the drawing to continue a plan started by George III himself. Chamberlaine had accepted – and thus advanced the plan of a centuries-old British conspiracy to poison the decisions of sports referees in other countries.
The conspiracy had worked by pretending to follow a particular philosophy when among foreigners, with the goal to subtly spread it to them. The philosophy emphasized that the senses were an illusion, and only the self could be trusted. In fact, it said, the self could be trusted so much that usually the first idea that came to mind was right. If you weren’t sure if you saw something, then you didn’t see it. In fact, it didn’t happen – the only reality is you.
Influenced by this philosophy, foreign referees had unconsciously started to trust their senses less. Referees of various sports started to randomly ignore fouls, or penalize players for a mere touch. The effect was almost like referees became temporarily blind during matches.
The conspiracy’s plan had already started taking hold. With capriciousness instilled into every referee, fear and mistrust was gradually spreading in the hearts of sports fans everywhere. Every country plays sports – such a plot could affect citizens of every country. Eventually, when a whole country was suffused with an atmosphere of confusion, the plan was that Britain would be able to invade, and the natives would be too demoralized to resist.
Hideaki wouldn’t let that happen. He was going to fight back.
…
And thus, football in Japan was saved.
Hideaki was rewarded with an assignment to review the regulations about the widths of lines on roads. | Pam Tillis
Albert Handcock, 5th Baron Castlemaine
U.S. Senate
Pam and her dog Lucky were finally reunited on this day, the day befor the last. The country singer and her shitty modern pop music were riding the wave of falsified success in this golden era of cultured idiots. The media had a field day with this story, endlessly broadcasting its irrelevance nationwide.
This reunion of woman and k9 caused such an uproar the U.S. Senate shoved a bill through that gave dogs equal rights, allowing homosexual dogs the privilege of marriage, amongst other things. They also dedicated September 23rd National Dog Day. Owners everywhere were wedding their dogs.
Proud cat owner Albert Handcock, 5th Baron Castlemain became enraged with all the attention dogs were receiving. The tyrannical landowner dognapped Pams beloved k9 and left this ransom note.
I've taken your faggot dog untill you stop making shitty music. Also I would have it illegal for gay dogs to wed.
Handcock
So distraught over losing her beloved dog once again, Pam did the only thing she could think of. She wrote another shitty country song about her missing dog. But this time it was so horrendous it started prison riots and even a civil war. Inner city inhabitants formed militias and called for a national uprising against the flag for some unknown reason.
After a few days of chaotic rioting, looting, and dogs defecating on the U.S. flag, Pam realized what she had to do. She released a statement of her resignation as a country singer. She went to Handcocks estate to retrieve her hostage dog. As promised he released Lucky to his owner. Order was restored and Pam was viewed as a hero. In November she ran for office, and of course, was elected president of the U.S.
Two days later, Albert Handcock, 5th Baron Castlemain was found dead at his estate. Policed reported a self inflicted gun shot to the head and cat shit everywhere. | |
[WP] Use the random page feature on wikipedia until you get three names. The first person's name you get is the hero of the story. The second is the villain. The third is the reason they're fighting. | Heroine: [Helen Kleinbort Krauze](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helen_Kleinbort_Krauze)
Villain: [Christopher Stephen Grayling] (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chris_Grayling)
Reason: [Valentin Stansel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valentin_Stansel)
---
It has been almost twenty years since the Heaven's Gate cult had committed mass suicide for the purpose or riding a comet into the cosmos.
Helen had interviewed the families of the victims after it had happened, and what she discovered was that the cult was composed of people who were depressed or suicidal already. Some of them didn't even believe in the promise of Hale-Bopp. They just wanted their own lives to end.
Helen had wanted to run a "Where are they now" piece, as a way to remind people that there would always be victims of tragedy, so she started searching the internet for those people she had met so long ago.
The first thing she discovers is the old Heaven's Gate website. Despite the years since it was relevant, someone had gone to the trouble of keeping it funded. The site, with it's mid-nineties graphics and "Message of Hope" from Applewhite and Nettles is still available for public browsing. That isn't too surprising. A lot of websites from that era are still maintained, even if the people paying for the maintenance costs aren't aware of it.
As she is about to close the page, Helen notices a bit of flashing text at the bottom of the screen. In that old style of hypertext were five words.
"We know they were wrong."
The words weren't on the webpage when she had first clicked over to it, but they are there now. Someone is editing the page and linking to another place.
Her reporter's instincts kick in and she clicks the next link. Now, before her was another webpage, still bearing the Heaven's Gate logo, but referring to a different celestial body. According to the text on the page, the Estancel-Gottignies Comet is due to make another circuit around the Earth in a few months, and the "faithful" are being called to Surrey, England to prepare for their ascension.
A quick check with the European Space Agency website confirms her suspicion. That comet is coming again. It would be visible in the northern hemisphere on September 25th.
Suddenly, Helen has a new mission. Even if this is some cruel hoax, she couldn't risk doing nothing. Her first step is to forward the information to INTERPOL, but she can't wait for them to respond.
Helen know she has to get out there and prevent another mass suicide. Thankfully, her passport is up to date and she is cleared for travel to the UK. She informed her family and friends of her itinerary and set off for Heathrow.
By the time she has landed, the website has updated again with co-ordinates for the new cult base and instructions on what to bring. No phones, no tablets, no computers, enough changes of clothing to last thirteen days and no food with artificial coloring or flavoring. Whoever was setting this up wanted them to believe they were "pure" enough to be claimed by the spaceship in the comet's tail.
Fortunately, in this modern era, technology allows reporters to get information without having to be there in person. Helen purchases a quadcopter drone and with the help of the Sony store clerk, fits it to carry a small video camera which would relay the footage back to her phone.
The drone flies over the compound while Helen controls it from a quarter mile away. A pastoral place, with no power lines, and the only source of water seeming to be pumps drawing from groundwater. Of course. If you're going to set up a cult, it's best to be off the grid.
As her drone reaches the limit of its range, she noticed a parking lot half a mile from the main compound. The three vehicles were all Black SUV's, and though she couldn't get the quadcopter close enough to read the license plates, it is clear from the color and shape of the plates that these are government cars. Was INTERPOL already here? Part of her wants to believe that, until one of the agents in the car draws a bead on her drone and shoots it down with his sidearm.
Realizing she had overstayed her welcome, Helen gets into a taxi and has the driver take a circuit around the county until she is certain that any tails had been lost.
Once back at her hotel, Helen uploads her video files to her contact at INTERPOL, Agent Gwendolyn Fitzgerald, and sits back for a moment, before a sharp knock comes at her door. She hadn't ordered any room service, and her friends at INTERPOL would have called ahead. Sensing something amiss, Helen turns on her spare phone's voice recorder and tucks it into the top of her pantyhose, hiding it underneath her skirt and blouse. After taking a deep breath, she goes straight to the door.
"Yes, how can I help you?" She asks of the two men in black suits once the deadbolt was off.
"Mrs Krause, you need to come with us. It's a matter of national security. We're also going to need to confiscate your phone." The security agent holds out his hand and she places her main phone into it, with feigned reluctance.
The men lead her from the hotel out the back, and down a block to an otherwise empty cafe. There, sitting in the central table, surrounded by more of his bodyguards, is the Leader of the House of Commons, Christoper Grayling.
"It's such a pleasure to meet such an esteemed journalist, Mrs Krause." He says by way of introduction. "Now, my men tell me that you've been looking into the Heaven's Gate Compound in Surrey. I wonder why?"
"Because for it to happen once is a tragedy." She cannot continue her thought, as one of the bodyguards starts frisking her. "Are you really going to pat down a seventy year-old woman?" She fixes the guard with a death glare and he immediately backs off.
"As I was saying, Lord President, for the mass suicide to happen once was a tragedy. For it to happen twice is a crime against humanity. There is no alien vessel in that comet's tail, and to make people believe so is preying on their own insecurities." Helen takes her seat carefully.
"Indeed. Such a thing should be prevented. It is almost a shame that I had to set it into motion."
Could he really be this evil? Helen shakes her head. "Would you care to repeat that? I am getting along in my years."
"Of course. I created the new Heaven's Gate. I chose an obscure comet set to come back as the trigger for a new event. And I set up one of my former aides as the new version of Applewhite to lead the flock to their next life."
Helen drums her fingers on the table and stares unblinkingly at him. "But that would make you an accessory to mass murder."
"Oh no. I would be the hero of the story. It's quite simple. Acting on an 'anonymous' tip, I would bring the police and INTERPOL into the compound the day before the comet was to make its appearance and rescue all the cultists. It would be the perfect cap to my career, and the end to any accusations of corruption." Grayling drinks from his tea cup and smiles at the aged reporter before him.
"And you're telling me this, why?" Helen keeps her face passive.
"Because you're going to sign a non-disclosure agreement right here and now, saying that you won't reveal anything you've discovered to the press for thirty years." Grayling slides the paper across the table. "You wouldn't want to create an international incident, would you?"
Helen looks at the paper and laughs. "So, your brilliant plan was to become a hero for people who are so suicidal that they'd just kill themselves a few days after the rescue? I have to tell you, Lord President, I can take down your plan with just six words."
"Oh really? What words might they be?" Grayling's face loses its calm demeanor.
"Siri, send recording to Agent Fitzgerald." There's a beep from the phone in her waistband, and the digital assistant chimes in. "Recording sent to Agent Fitzgerald."
Helen stands up, grinning at the Lord President and his guards, who all draw their guns. "Now now, boys. Shooting a Mexican journalist in a British cafe? You wouldn't want to create an international incident." Turning to the guard who had confiscated her phone, she gives him that death glare again. "I'll be taking my other phone back now." | "Oh come on!" screamed Daphne Zuniga as she pressed the Random button again.
"What the hell are you screaming for?" asked her roommate, Lady Ann Clifford. Daphne had been angrily fuming at her computer for hours, something that Ann didn't mind. But this was the first time that she verbally lashed out her anger.
"I'm writing a story for Writing Prompts where I have to click the random button on Wikipedia until I got three names then use those names for the story. But the fucking website won't cooperate!"
Ann gave an exasperated sigh. "That's hardly something to get frustrated about. Why don't you rest for a bit? Maybe you'll have better luck later?"
Daphne stretched her arms and got up the chair. "Maybe you're right. I'll ask Davey if he's up for a threesome."
Ann narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Oh, no you don't. It's my turn to have my way with him this evening, got it?"
"Hey, not fair! I let you join us yesterday! We even role played as Victoria Davis and Princess Vespa! Why won't you let me join you tonight?"
"I have some positions that I want to test out and I don't want you to see them." boasted Ann.
Daphne scoffed. "You and your Kama Sutra. Learn from the master and get ideas from film dumbass!"
"You can take your films and shove it. I'll stick with my books."
Daphne grinned a predatory grin.
"Oh, really? Wanna bet that I can get Davey to climax better than you can?" she said. She licked her lips in anticipation.
"Loser pays the bills for next month."
"Deal!"
That night, neither women won because Davey fainted before they could ask him. Ann eventually helped Daphne on her prompt.
The end.
---
Characters
Daphne Zuniga (actress)
Lady Ann Clifford (literary figure)
Davey (surname)
| |
[WP] Use the random page feature on wikipedia until you get three names. The first person's name you get is the hero of the story. The second is the villain. The third is the reason they're fighting. | 1. The hero: [**Hideaki Okabe**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hideaki_Okabe) – born 1959, he is a Japanese politician of the Liberal Democratic Party, a member of the House of Representatives in the Diet (national legislature).
1. The villian: [**John Chamberlaine**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Chamberlaine) – born 1745, he was an antiquary and acted as keeper of George III's drawings, coins and medals from 1791 until his death in 1812.
1. The reason: [**Mihály Ivanicsics**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mih%C3%A1ly_Ivanicsics) – an international football referee in the 1920s and 1930s who lived 1893–1968.
---
[This story is incomplete right now. I skip from the middle to the end without explaining how the character got there.]
Hideaki started at the pile of papers in his inbox forlornly. He had thought being a politician would involve a lot more exciting debates. But most of his time was spent dealing with paperwork about meaningless minutia. In fact, he suspected one of his political rivals had purposefully arranged for him to be assigned the dullest work possible.
His current project was to research the refereeing of football, of all things, to see if it needed to be regulated. Should the government change the licensing requirements for referees? Should they start teaching refereeing during physical education classes in Japanese schools? These were the questions Hideaki would diligently answer – even though he sometimes wondered if anyone would actually read his report.
Hideaki picked up the document on the top of his inbox. It was an academic article he had requested a copy of a few days ago, titled “Ivanicsics – A Case Study in Refereeing”. With a sigh, he flipped past the title page and started reading.
After twenty minutes, something finally caught Hideaki’s eye amidst the clinical descriptions of fouls and free kicks. Apparently, when interviewed after one match, Mihály had described his decision-making philosophy for close calls. He always asked himself “what would John Chamberlaine do?”.
Who was John Chamberlaine? The unfamiliar name stuck out. Hideaki turned on his swivel chair to his computer and looked him up.
…
John Chamberlaine had preserved many of the drawings of King George III of Britain. The drawings had been photographed and put on a museum’s website. Hideaki discovered a coded message within them.
The message invited all future owners of the drawing to continue a plan started by George III himself. Chamberlaine had accepted – and thus advanced the plan of a centuries-old British conspiracy to poison the decisions of sports referees in other countries.
The conspiracy had worked by pretending to follow a particular philosophy when among foreigners, with the goal to subtly spread it to them. The philosophy emphasized that the senses were an illusion, and only the self could be trusted. In fact, it said, the self could be trusted so much that usually the first idea that came to mind was right. If you weren’t sure if you saw something, then you didn’t see it. In fact, it didn’t happen – the only reality is you.
Influenced by this philosophy, foreign referees had unconsciously started to trust their senses less. Referees of various sports started to randomly ignore fouls, or penalize players for a mere touch. The effect was almost like referees became temporarily blind during matches.
The conspiracy’s plan had already started taking hold. With capriciousness instilled into every referee, fear and mistrust was gradually spreading in the hearts of sports fans everywhere. Every country plays sports – such a plot could affect citizens of every country. Eventually, when a whole country was suffused with an atmosphere of confusion, the plan was that Britain would be able to invade, and the natives would be too demoralized to resist.
Hideaki wouldn’t let that happen. He was going to fight back.
…
And thus, football in Japan was saved.
Hideaki was rewarded with an assignment to review the regulations about the widths of lines on roads. | * Nayib Armando Bukele Ortez (born July 24, 1981 in San Salvador) is a Salvadoran politician and businessman.
* Reginald Wilson is an American psychologist, Education Councilor, and former president of Wayne County Community College in Detroit, MI
* Dan Shorey was a former Grand Prix motorcycle road racer.
He stood looking out the window of the office in his high rise building that served as his mega company's headquarters. To him, they were not just cars driving down the busy street, they were moving around the people that he knew were about to make him rich.
"As soon as I broadcast this signal, my stores will be jam packed! They will make lines at the Apple store look like child's play!"
"Sir, the device is ready!"
He was so deep in his fantasy that he didn't notice his assistant walk into his office. Turning to him, he gave a slight nod, indicating to go on with the plan.
"Are the storefronts ready for customers?"
"Yes, they put the final touches on the displays this morning. The best designers in America couldn't have done a better job."
Nayib Ortez didn't really care about the design, after all, people were going to flock to his stores no matter what they looked like.
"Good, it's time" and his plan was underway.
Reginald was up late again. Papers strewn everywhere across his desk, only illuminated by the single incandescent lamp and the blueish glow of the TV behind him. He liked to have the television on when working late. It made him feel less lonely in the otherwise empty dull night. His book, on the status of minorities in higher education, was originally planned to be done 4 weeks prior, and the additional stress of being late was only a hindrance on his progress. Closing his eyes, he started to drift off, suddenly waking up instantly when he caught himself. This time when he awoke, the television caught his attention. It was playing the rerun of the local late night news.
"El Salvadorians consumed by fad of Don Shorey merchandise!" was the tag line for the story.
"Who on god's earth is Don Shorey?" he thought to himself. As he slowly turned back toward his book, mere fractions of a second before shrugging off the previous thought, he caught a glimpse of the riots. He turned back to the television with a confused look. The sight was brutal. It was comparable to the protests he took part of for the civil rights movement. People fighting, police shooting tear gas, loud bangs, and people running and screaming. Something wasn't right about this. Not just the fact that it was a riot, but he knew something was off. Watching closer, he noticed that the police were shooting the people not to stop the riots, but they were part of the riots themselves! They too wanted to get whatever it was everyone was fighting about.
"Man, that's terrible. All my years studying psychology and humans never fail to surprise me." He turned off the television, sat down in his chair, and nodded off for the last time.
He awoke to daylight peeking through the curtains. He always checked his phone first thing in the morning.
"10 missed calls! What's going on?"
They were all from his former graduate school friend who he had not spoken to in 15 years.
"What is so important that he called me this many times?"
His curiosity was piquing more and more as the phone was ringing on the other end of the line. Finally, someone answered.
"Gerald, we haven't spoken in what feels like ages! What can I do for you?"
"Reginald, I have some disturbing news. Did you happen to see the news of the Salvadorian riots?"
"Yeah, I saw the footage briefly last night. Terrible. What about them?"
"Well, I got notice early this morning that our thesis project was stolen from the university"
A feeling of dread instantly washed over him. That project was top secret! How could anyone have possibly stolen it?!
"...so that's why they were all obsessed! The thief must be using the persuasion wave generator function of the device to deceive people!"
"It was confirmed that the signal was detected in the area, there's no doubt about it"
"So what do you want me to do about it? That project was decades ago!"
"You're the only one who knows how to remotely disable the signal. You have to go there and stop this guy!"
"I can't do that! I'm just one guy! And I have a book to finish!"
"I'm sorry Reginald, but it has to be done"
Just then there was a loud knock on the door. He opened the door to a couple FBI agents standing on his porch.
"Pack your bags, we're going on a little vacation"
| |
[WP] Use the random page feature on wikipedia until you get three names. The first person's name you get is the hero of the story. The second is the villain. The third is the reason they're fighting. | Our heroine: **Julie Halpern**. An American YA fiction writer.
The villain: **Bryotropha vondermuhlli**. A species of moth from western Europe.
The reason for all this: **Den Beste Sykkel**. A Norwegian bicycle manufacturer.
Well then.
Julie overpaid the taxi driver by a good two hundred Kroner, leaving him to bemusedly count the notes as she sprinted across the street toward the office block. The city of Sandnes slept around it in the almost perpetual darkness of a Norwegian winter, though thankfully one thus far free of snow.
The building was intact, which was always a good sign, but Julie forced herself to keep alert nonetheless. She had no idea exactly what was planning to attack this place, and she wasn't about to let down her guard; the dreadful business with the parasitic wasps in Munich had taught her that.
Inside, a bored looking receptionist flicked a pen across a light pine desk.
"You there, is Jonas here!?" she asked the girl, who looked up in annoyance.
"Office hours are over," the girl replied, her English spoken in the lilting tones of Scandinavia.
"To hell with office hours!" Julie shouted, causing the girl to jump in her seat. "Den Beste Sykkel is in danger!"
"What would anyone want with this place?"
Julie looked at her as if she were stupid. "I have no time for this," she muttered, and pushed past the receptionist through a door. She guessed the sign above it must have read 'Staff only', seeing as the girl cried out in protest, but she paid her no heed, instead sprinting along a corridor and up a flight of stairs.
She found Jonas in his office on the third floor. He was surrounded by bicycle parts laid out in a pattern on the carpet and appeared to be in a meditative state. She shook him roughly by the shoulder, and he jerked awake with a gasp.
"J-Julie," he stammered, "What are you doing here!?"
"Sykkel is being targeted, Jonas. Thankfully I made it here in time."
He nodded. "It was inevitable. Is it the ants? We've been fearing a reprisal from them for what went down in Moscow."
"I don't know. I only got word out of the Colonel today. I had just enough time to stock up on the most general compounds." She withdrew a set of canisters from her jacket, and lined them up on Jonas' desk.
"They'll have to do," he said, eyeing them. "I'll get the gear."
He walked to the wood panelling, at the corner of the office, and inserted a silver key. A section of wall swung back to reveal a series of sleek, dark firearms and other military paraphernalia hung inside a second space within. He prised a long rifle off the wall and tossed it to her. She caught it neatly, balancing its weight with practised ease as she swung it around, placing the butt upon the ground. She took one of the canisters and began fitting it inside the rifle's barrel.
Jonas was hefting a second weapon out when they heard a hammering at the window. They both turned as one to the noise.
"They're here..." Julie breathed.
Jonas stood stock still, eyes closed, breathing in slowly.
"But what is it?" he whispered.
Julie approached the blinds, heart pounding. The noise from outside was growing more intense by the second, an incessant drumming upon the panes, harder and harder and...
Julie yanked them back. A swarm of small winged bodies battered the glass, a seething tempest of tiny, brown wings.
"*Bryotropha vondermuhlii*," she spat, "you sons of bitches."
She cocked her rifle with a sharp motion, and span back toward Jonas, her face hardening.
"I hope you're ready," she growled, "this is going to be a bloodbath."
> edit: words
| 1. William Kennard, former American ambassador to the EU
2. W. L. "Jack" Howard Mayor of Monroe Louisiana in the 50's, 60's and 70's
3. Brenda Nicholls, Canadian curler
Hmmm . . . okay.
Will was excited. He has come up with a plan to improve relations with Europe. America and other countries had long argued over which "football" was the proper "football." Will would fix this by leaving all sports with feet and balls behind and advocating a new organized sporting event to unite people: curling. The president had liked the idea, and so did his staff. Will had been given the go-ahead to organize a curling conference in Scandinavia to help sell the idea to the European public. The special guest at the conference was Brenda Nicholls. She was Canadian, but Will really admired how she played.
During the conference, one of Will's aid anxiously took him aside.
"We have a crisis, sir. A disgruntled Southern gentleman had taken Ms. Nicholls hostage! Their on the ice rink right now and he wants to talk to you."
Will raced to the ice rink and took in the scene. Brenda was in the middle with her hands tied to several large curling stones. The Southerner was on the far side of the rink, standing on a Zamboni.
"Are you in charge of this 'curling' business?" asked the Southerner.
"Yes I am," replied Will. "Who are you and what do you want?"
"My name is Jack and I am here to stop this 'curling' before it starts. It unfairly favors Yankees because the north is much colder than the south. I demand that you choose a different sport, one that all American can participate in equally. If you do not, I will run over this woman with this ice-cleaning truck."
"It's called a Zamboni," Brenda yelled, "and I will willingly die for the great sport of curling."
Will ran through his options. As they were in Europe, the only person in the area who would likely have a gun would be Jack (Southerners *always* have guns, don't you know), so they couldn't just shoot him. Will didn't think that he could reach the Zamboni before Jack started driving it, so he couldn't physically stop him. Will also couldn't think of a replacement sport that didn't involve feet or balls. Well, there was hockey, but that was also a Canadian ice sport that (apparently) discriminated against southerners.
"I am *waiting*," snapped Jack, obviously a little annoyed.
"Please," begged Will. "Give me more time."
"Damn you, Yankee," yelled Jack as he hopped into the Zamboni and fired it up.
Will started to panic, but then he noticed that Brenda had managed to free one of her arms.
"Sweep me a path!" she ordered. As Brenda forcefully pushed one large stone forward, Will got in front of it and swept the ice frantically with a broom. The stone moved forward to meet the oncoming Zamboni and when the two were about ten feet apart, Will abandoned his sweeping and raced back to the other side of the rink. The Zamboni and the stone collided, causing a giant explosion. The evil Southerner was blown to bits!
Thus the sport of curling was saving and went on to become very popular in both Europe and North America. Brenda thanked Will for saving her by giving him two tons of maple syrup and a moose, because Canada. | |
[WP] Once, there were Four queens. One held the grandest party ever, making her kingdom the happiest. One built the grandest university, making hers the wisest. One, however, raised the grandest army ever known, making hers the deadliest. And, finally, there was the Fourth queen... | Dear diary,
Nurse Becki said that is how you are supposed to start when you write in your diary. She said that pretty little girls should not worry about medical journals, and that I should get a diary instead. I told her that I have never had a diary before, so she told me how to start. And she even gave me some shiny stickers for it! I like Nurse Becki, she is really nice. Dr. Martin told me it was a journal when he gave it to me, but he doesn’t seem to mind that Nurse Becki got me a diary instead. She said I should write in it like Dr. Martin wanted me to, but that I can put other stuff in here too. He said that we were gonna try something new.
I like my new diary but I do not like what Dr. Martin wants me to put in it. He wants me to talk about the queens. I told him that I was scared of the queens, and he gave me a magical pill. He said that it will hide me from the queens so they can’t hear what I say. But just in case I’m hiding under the blankets on my bed. I want to make extra sure they can’t hear me. The first queen is not that bad. She just wants to play and have fun all the time. I don’t mind her too badly. She gets upset if I don’t let her play though. I don’t really like the second queen. She is not mean like the third queen, but she doesn’t make me feel very good. She is really smart and says lots of things that make me feel dumb. She must have been friends with mommy, she said some of that stuff too. I don’t think she is trying to be mean, but I don’t like it anyway. The third queen is the scary one. She is mean and angry all the time. I can hear her screaming sometimes, and it seems to be for no reason. She tells me to do bad things sometimes. I know they are bad but when she says it they don’t always sound so bad. She is the scariest of the queens. Some of the things she wants me to do scare me the most, because even if I don’t do them when I’m awake she makes me do them when I’m asleep. Dr. Martin let Nurse Becki bring a puppy to see me yesterday and he was so cute! The first queen was so happy and she wanted to run and play with it. I wanted to play with the puppy too. He was so soft and fluffy. The second queen told me that playing with puppies is not what a smart girl would do. But the third queen wanted me to do bad things to the puppy. She started to yell at me when I didn’t and I got scared I would hurt the puppy. I ran back over to Dr. Martin, and the third queen got in a fight with the first queen and they started yelling. My head started to hurt and I started crying so Nurse Becki took the puppy and left. I want to see the puppy again, but I’m scared the third queen will want to hurt it again. She is mean all the time, even to Nurse Becki and Dr. Martin. I told Nurse Becki how much the third queen scared me and she said that the third queen should be scared of me, and that made her real mad. I told her to not be so mean, that Nurse Becki is nice. She laughed at me, and it made me even more scared. I know what she said next because she tells me it all the time. She said to run along little fourth queen, and go play with the first queen. Run along and let her have control. I wanna go play with the first queen because I get lonely here, but I do not want the third queen to be in control. I don’t know what she’d control but it would not be good. She is too mean for anything good.
I hope Dr. Martin does not let her see this, she would be very mad at me. When I told him she called me the fourth queen he said he wanted me to try writing in my diary. That is what he gave it to me for. I’m think I’m gonna go to take a nap for a little bit since I am already under my blanket. My head is starting to feel funny. I can hear the queens calling for me. They sound like they are trying to find me. That pill Dr. Martin gave me must be working if they can’t find me. I am happy about that, they would not like that I’m writing about them. Dr. Martin said we are gonna try something new tonight, I am gonna ask if I can have more of the magic pills. The voices are getting louder. I’m scared. I don’t want them to find me here. I want the queens to go away. Nurse Becki says I can make them go away, and that Dr. Martin is gonna help me. They are screaming! Just leave me alo
{the rest of the writing on the page is unintelligible scribbling}
| The happy queen held a great gala that lastest for years. Everyone's morale was high. News of this grand nation and their many treasures spread abroad. But when the warrior queen heard, she saw an opportunity! The warrior queen attacked the happy queen's kingdom. The happy kingdom's queen offered many wonderful gifts to the invading soldiers. But their warrior queen said to her troops, "why settle for some. when you can have all!" And so, the happiest kingdom became the saddest kingdom. For, having never been prepared for such suffering, most of the spoiled inhabitants killed themselves out of grief. The rest were either slaughtered or enslaved.
The wise queen's spies returned with this sad news. The nation which exported most of the lands joys had fallen! The wise kingdom had realized this day would come, and so had been preparing. For if the warrior queen would attempt to take one nation, she would probably try to take others... The wise queen made a dreadful error, though. She believed that the warrior queen was driven by greed. The wise queen believed that since her kingdom didn't have the riches of the happy kingdom, and since they didn't have the valuable treasures, that she might be spared. But just to be safe, she decided to offer to the warrior queen all of what treasures her nation did have. The wise kingdom's true value was in the minds of it's great teachers and thinkers. And so, they could easily part with material things. She invited the warrior queen into her lands, and showed her about her meager kingdom. Then she gave a peace offering of all that her kingdom had. The warrior queen thanked the wise queen and left. The next week, the warrior queen's army was outside the wise queen's kingdom's walls. The wise queen sent a message: "Why do you attack us? We have nothing more to give!" There was no reply. And so on that day, the wise queen died, as did everyone in her kingdom. There were no slaves taken. Only the books and tomes of learning were spared.
The warrior queen now had all the treasures and riches of the happy kingdom, without the dangerous threat of the wise kingdom. She had done her duty.
Just as the conspiring queen of the fourth kingdom had planned... | |
[WP] Once, there were Four queens. One held the grandest party ever, making her kingdom the happiest. One built the grandest university, making hers the wisest. One, however, raised the grandest army ever known, making hers the deadliest. And, finally, there was the Fourth queen... | "Jen!"
"Where is that girl? Jennifer!" The aging servant glided through the lower halls of the keep, her skirt barley brushing the cold stone floor as she called out to her newest kitchen maid.
"Yes mistress. I'm sorry mistress," the response came as a young girl jetted out of a side room and bowed ever so slightly. Even in rags, her beauty was more fitted to one of the four queens than that of the low-born submitting before her.
"What exactly were you doing in the soldier's quarters?"
"Just delivering some food, mistress". The lie was obvious, but a girl like her was bound to have flings from time to time.
"I need you to get cleaned up immediately. Brittany already has garments prepared for you. Go see her first. Then bathe, dress and meet me in the kitchen in 20 minutes."
"What?...I'm sorry...may I ask what for?"
"There isn't time for that. Go now and I'll explain later," she replied in the way she had learned to over the last 50 years, both forcefully and kind.
As the girl skittered down the hall quickly, off to her assigned task, the woman couldn't help but laugh to herself. The clumsy dolt would soon be serving the fourth queen herself. In her many years of working in the Grand Keep, even as the head of the kitchen, she had never had the privilege of walking through the upper corridors.
Each of the Queens, when they would come for discussions about wars and merchant dealings, demanded a specific manner in which they were to be served. The red queen would only allow soldiers in her quarters. The green, scholars. The blue, jesters. A woman like her had no place there.
This, however, was no ordinary visit. For the first time in her life, the White Queen would make an appearance. The most beautiful woman in the country, she had made no demands at all of the staff. Rather, she had sent a letter ahead of her that she would be 'quite comfortable anywhere and her attendees needn't trouble themselves too much.' Such a request was, of course, out of the question. Thus it was decided that among the paltry low-born living within the lower-halls, the only one fit to be in the presence of the queen, the most beautiful and most kind queen, was Jennifer.
| Before the Great Civil War, there were 5 of us. 5 princesses that became 4 queens. Lady Mao focused all her resources into science. Lady Gandhi mastered destruction. And Lady Isabella built culture. We went away in separate directions.
That left Maury and me, Elizabeth. Maury wasn't the brightest, and settled near my villages. Her village was on a mountain on an island nearby and never grew much. She wasn't a threat, and she was my sister, so I sent my merchants to her via boat. She was very happy to receive the shipments, and paid me handsomely each time.
Once I had built my economic empire accordingly, I invested in money and naval technology. I built new cities. I built roads. Eventually I built banks. And as my empire grew, so did my proximity to my more competent sisters. Lady Mao and Isabella remained peaceful, but Gandhi was unreasonable. Unfortunately for Lady Gandhi, Mao had already developed riflemen and defeated Gandhi's warriors swiftly.
Lady Mao, emboldened by her brazen victory over the long-time military superpower, attacked Lady Isabella next. Isabella saw this coming ahead of time, however, due to the effects of her large cultural influence. She entreated me to trade with her, and was able to build roads and defend herself. She sent me her great economists and steam power and gunpowder, and I sent her caravans.
Fearing the inevitable, I built bottlenecks where I could. I built long roads to outposts, and prepared settlers to break up the roads. Isabella was defeated, but I had plenty of time and gold to build my defense. Maury was my secret weapon.
Years passed, and Lady Mao was ruthless. City after city fell with terrible losses on both sides. She bombed my cities. I stole her great people. But even so, the onslaught was too much. She won, time and time again. Eventually only one of my island cities was left....
...And it had just built the World Bank. | |
[WP] Once, there were Four queens. One held the grandest party ever, making her kingdom the happiest. One built the grandest university, making hers the wisest. One, however, raised the grandest army ever known, making hers the deadliest. And, finally, there was the Fourth queen... | The four Queendoms they were known as a whole, however they were rarely referred to as a "whole". Their differences had estranged them to the point of hostility once.
The Queen of Wealth's kingdom focused solely on luxury and opulence. The best diamond mines, the fairest pearl farms, and richest vineyards the world had ever known. All of it contributed to the "Shining Capital", where the ruling class would celebrate endlessly. It should be said they they weren't tyrants however. The Queen's great wealth was often used to help her people, and they adored her for her benevolence.
The Queen of Nothing, as she was affectionately called by her people, boasted probably the strangest thing a monarch could. She had no power. Her country was run instead by the community. The entirety of her society was motivated to improve themselves, improve humanity, and as such held the most prestigious Universities, the most advanced research facilities, and even the world's only Academy of Space Sciences, bent upon reaching the stars.
The Queen of Blades was perhaps an outdated name, but it suited her. She ruled with an iron fist. Every civilian was trained in combat. Whatever else they did in the country was secondary. Every man and woman held a religious devotion to their country that can only be achieved through intense training in her military. the camaraderie between the populous that happened was an unintended yet serendipitous side effect of their shared experiences. Her country had boasted the greatest efficiency that could be achieved by anything without a hive mind.
And finally The Queen, she was called. She needed no secondary title. Ages ago there was war that devastated the three Queendoms, until a fourth Queen rose from the ashes. Her country is only a small, if not grand city that resides precisely in the center where the three countries' borders meet. Her queendoms' purpose is only to prevent war. Every year the three great Queens meet at her palace. They are locked in together for 2 weeks to sort out any differences that might have arisen in that passing year, with The Queen as moderator. The world has never known such a time of peace and sharing. | Before the Great Civil War, there were 5 of us. 5 princesses that became 4 queens. Lady Mao focused all her resources into science. Lady Gandhi mastered destruction. And Lady Isabella built culture. We went away in separate directions.
That left Maury and me, Elizabeth. Maury wasn't the brightest, and settled near my villages. Her village was on a mountain on an island nearby and never grew much. She wasn't a threat, and she was my sister, so I sent my merchants to her via boat. She was very happy to receive the shipments, and paid me handsomely each time.
Once I had built my economic empire accordingly, I invested in money and naval technology. I built new cities. I built roads. Eventually I built banks. And as my empire grew, so did my proximity to my more competent sisters. Lady Mao and Isabella remained peaceful, but Gandhi was unreasonable. Unfortunately for Lady Gandhi, Mao had already developed riflemen and defeated Gandhi's warriors swiftly.
Lady Mao, emboldened by her brazen victory over the long-time military superpower, attacked Lady Isabella next. Isabella saw this coming ahead of time, however, due to the effects of her large cultural influence. She entreated me to trade with her, and was able to build roads and defend herself. She sent me her great economists and steam power and gunpowder, and I sent her caravans.
Fearing the inevitable, I built bottlenecks where I could. I built long roads to outposts, and prepared settlers to break up the roads. Isabella was defeated, but I had plenty of time and gold to build my defense. Maury was my secret weapon.
Years passed, and Lady Mao was ruthless. City after city fell with terrible losses on both sides. She bombed my cities. I stole her great people. But even so, the onslaught was too much. She won, time and time again. Eventually only one of my island cities was left....
...And it had just built the World Bank. | |
[WP] Once, there were Four queens. One held the grandest party ever, making her kingdom the happiest. One built the grandest university, making hers the wisest. One, however, raised the grandest army ever known, making hers the deadliest. And, finally, there was the Fourth queen... | The fourth Queen built deep mines, vast farms, and grand marketplaces, so that her kingdom became the richest. The scientists of the Wisest traveled to her, so that they could secure the funds to launch the grand projects they invented. The people of the Happiest flocked to her, for there was always something beautiful and fun to buy in her markets. Even the soldiers of the Deadliest, who eschewed such frivolity, traveled there, because a wealthy merchant will hire guards and a wealthy nation will hire mercenaries.
In time, diplomats from a kingdom across the sea visited the four kingdoms, seeking to ally with the most powerful nation. First they went to the palace of the Deadliest, for a kingdom's true power rests in its army. But the Deadliest Queen glared at them from her throne of swords, and said "I am but a humble soldier. I secure these lands, but I could never rule them."
So the diplomats went to the palace of the Wisest, for knowledge is power, so surely the most powerful nation must be the smartest. But the Wisest Queen looked up at them from her desk and said "I am but a humble scholar. I guide these lands, but I could never rule them."
So the diplomats went to the Happiest Palace, for surely only a powerful ruler could safely enjoy such luxury. And the Happiest Queen smiled at them from her banquet table and said "I am but a humble entertainer. I make the people happy, but I do not rule them."
So the diplomats scratched their heads and went to the palace of the Richest Queen, for it is said that money can buy anything, and they had heard she was responsible for everything that happened in the four kingdoms. And the Richest Queen looked down at them from her golden throne and said "I am but a humble merchant. I buy the services of these lands, but I do not rule them."
This greatly perplexed the diplomats, for they had gone everywhere on the island and found that nobody claimed to hold any power. One of them pondered that perhaps this meant that none of the kingdoms were powerful, which would make the island ripe for conquest.
The Richest Queen overheard this, and grew very angry. "None of our nations hold any power, but if your kingdom seeks to invade us, they will be annihilated by the most deadly, intelligent, wealthy, and happy nation in the world!"
The diplomats, still confused, returned home. They reported that the island was a strange place, where no nation held any power, yet the island as a whole was exceedingly wealthy and powerful. And the King Across the Sea laughed and said that he would divide them and conquer the island piece by piece.
But the spies of the Wisest overheard him, and the Happiest beat the drums of war, and the Richest raised an army, and the Deadliest delivered such a crushing defeat to the King Across the Sea that he never invaded them again.
And so the island remained at peace, and they prospered and traded with each other, until nobody could say where one nation ended and the other nation began. | Before the Great Civil War, there were 5 of us. 5 princesses that became 4 queens. Lady Mao focused all her resources into science. Lady Gandhi mastered destruction. And Lady Isabella built culture. We went away in separate directions.
That left Maury and me, Elizabeth. Maury wasn't the brightest, and settled near my villages. Her village was on a mountain on an island nearby and never grew much. She wasn't a threat, and she was my sister, so I sent my merchants to her via boat. She was very happy to receive the shipments, and paid me handsomely each time.
Once I had built my economic empire accordingly, I invested in money and naval technology. I built new cities. I built roads. Eventually I built banks. And as my empire grew, so did my proximity to my more competent sisters. Lady Mao and Isabella remained peaceful, but Gandhi was unreasonable. Unfortunately for Lady Gandhi, Mao had already developed riflemen and defeated Gandhi's warriors swiftly.
Lady Mao, emboldened by her brazen victory over the long-time military superpower, attacked Lady Isabella next. Isabella saw this coming ahead of time, however, due to the effects of her large cultural influence. She entreated me to trade with her, and was able to build roads and defend herself. She sent me her great economists and steam power and gunpowder, and I sent her caravans.
Fearing the inevitable, I built bottlenecks where I could. I built long roads to outposts, and prepared settlers to break up the roads. Isabella was defeated, but I had plenty of time and gold to build my defense. Maury was my secret weapon.
Years passed, and Lady Mao was ruthless. City after city fell with terrible losses on both sides. She bombed my cities. I stole her great people. But even so, the onslaught was too much. She won, time and time again. Eventually only one of my island cities was left....
...And it had just built the World Bank. | |
[WP] Once, there were Four queens. One held the grandest party ever, making her kingdom the happiest. One built the grandest university, making hers the wisest. One, however, raised the grandest army ever known, making hers the deadliest. And, finally, there was the Fourth queen... | The four Queendoms they were known as a whole, however they were rarely referred to as a "whole". Their differences had estranged them to the point of hostility once.
The Queen of Wealth's kingdom focused solely on luxury and opulence. The best diamond mines, the fairest pearl farms, and richest vineyards the world had ever known. All of it contributed to the "Shining Capital", where the ruling class would celebrate endlessly. It should be said they they weren't tyrants however. The Queen's great wealth was often used to help her people, and they adored her for her benevolence.
The Queen of Nothing, as she was affectionately called by her people, boasted probably the strangest thing a monarch could. She had no power. Her country was run instead by the community. The entirety of her society was motivated to improve themselves, improve humanity, and as such held the most prestigious Universities, the most advanced research facilities, and even the world's only Academy of Space Sciences, bent upon reaching the stars.
The Queen of Blades was perhaps an outdated name, but it suited her. She ruled with an iron fist. Every civilian was trained in combat. Whatever else they did in the country was secondary. Every man and woman held a religious devotion to their country that can only be achieved through intense training in her military. the camaraderie between the populous that happened was an unintended yet serendipitous side effect of their shared experiences. Her country had boasted the greatest efficiency that could be achieved by anything without a hive mind.
And finally The Queen, she was called. She needed no secondary title. Ages ago there was war that devastated the three Queendoms, until a fourth Queen rose from the ashes. Her country is only a small, if not grand city that resides precisely in the center where the three countries' borders meet. Her queendoms' purpose is only to prevent war. Every year the three great Queens meet at her palace. They are locked in together for 2 weeks to sort out any differences that might have arisen in that passing year, with The Queen as moderator. The world has never known such a time of peace and sharing. | "Jen!"
"Where is that girl? Jennifer!" The aging servant glided through the lower halls of the keep, her skirt barley brushing the cold stone floor as she called out to her newest kitchen maid.
"Yes mistress. I'm sorry mistress," the response came as a young girl jetted out of a side room and bowed ever so slightly. Even in rags, her beauty was more fitted to one of the four queens than that of the low-born submitting before her.
"What exactly were you doing in the soldier's quarters?"
"Just delivering some food, mistress". The lie was obvious, but a girl like her was bound to have flings from time to time.
"I need you to get cleaned up immediately. Brittany already has garments prepared for you. Go see her first. Then bathe, dress and meet me in the kitchen in 20 minutes."
"What?...I'm sorry...may I ask what for?"
"There isn't time for that. Go now and I'll explain later," she replied in the way she had learned to over the last 50 years, both forcefully and kind.
As the girl skittered down the hall quickly, off to her assigned task, the woman couldn't help but laugh to herself. The clumsy dolt would soon be serving the fourth queen herself. In her many years of working in the Grand Keep, even as the head of the kitchen, she had never had the privilege of walking through the upper corridors.
Each of the Queens, when they would come for discussions about wars and merchant dealings, demanded a specific manner in which they were to be served. The red queen would only allow soldiers in her quarters. The green, scholars. The blue, jesters. A woman like her had no place there.
This, however, was no ordinary visit. For the first time in her life, the White Queen would make an appearance. The most beautiful woman in the country, she had made no demands at all of the staff. Rather, she had sent a letter ahead of her that she would be 'quite comfortable anywhere and her attendees needn't trouble themselves too much.' Such a request was, of course, out of the question. Thus it was decided that among the paltry low-born living within the lower-halls, the only one fit to be in the presence of the queen, the most beautiful and most kind queen, was Jennifer.
| |
[WP] Once, there were Four queens. One held the grandest party ever, making her kingdom the happiest. One built the grandest university, making hers the wisest. One, however, raised the grandest army ever known, making hers the deadliest. And, finally, there was the Fourth queen... | The four Queendoms they were known as a whole, however they were rarely referred to as a "whole". Their differences had estranged them to the point of hostility once.
The Queen of Wealth's kingdom focused solely on luxury and opulence. The best diamond mines, the fairest pearl farms, and richest vineyards the world had ever known. All of it contributed to the "Shining Capital", where the ruling class would celebrate endlessly. It should be said they they weren't tyrants however. The Queen's great wealth was often used to help her people, and they adored her for her benevolence.
The Queen of Nothing, as she was affectionately called by her people, boasted probably the strangest thing a monarch could. She had no power. Her country was run instead by the community. The entirety of her society was motivated to improve themselves, improve humanity, and as such held the most prestigious Universities, the most advanced research facilities, and even the world's only Academy of Space Sciences, bent upon reaching the stars.
The Queen of Blades was perhaps an outdated name, but it suited her. She ruled with an iron fist. Every civilian was trained in combat. Whatever else they did in the country was secondary. Every man and woman held a religious devotion to their country that can only be achieved through intense training in her military. the camaraderie between the populous that happened was an unintended yet serendipitous side effect of their shared experiences. Her country had boasted the greatest efficiency that could be achieved by anything without a hive mind.
And finally The Queen, she was called. She needed no secondary title. Ages ago there was war that devastated the three Queendoms, until a fourth Queen rose from the ashes. Her country is only a small, if not grand city that resides precisely in the center where the three countries' borders meet. Her queendoms' purpose is only to prevent war. Every year the three great Queens meet at her palace. They are locked in together for 2 weeks to sort out any differences that might have arisen in that passing year, with The Queen as moderator. The world has never known such a time of peace and sharing. | Once there were four queens, there was Litian queen of the north, known for her extravagant parties and its happy citizens.
There was Salian queen of the west, known for the grand university's she founded and highly educated citizens who called it their home.
Velian queen of the east was best known for her army's, their size and strength unparalleled, not even the lowliest baker was without military training in her domain.
Rulian queen of the south was the one who changed all of it, she was known for her economy, easily outproducing many of the other kingdoms.
Rulian wished to unite the kingdoms but knew the other queens would never agree, thus she started a secret campaign, she started with reducing the prices for the other kingdoms to import her resources.
Slowly but surely she put the other kingdoms productions on decline or even halted them completely by making them unable to compete with her prices and infrastructure, Litian was the first victim, her dependency grew over the years, and when slowly the prices rose again she found the kingdom coffers draining at a rapid pace, of course she tried restarting production in her own country but it was to late, her dependency was her undoing.
She realized that the only way to save enough money was to cut back on parties and increase the burdens of the citizens, thus ended their era of happiness.
Salian though she was wise to trade knowledge rather then wealth for resources as there was always more knowledge to be gained, but she forgot that knowledge took time, it only took Rulian several years to gain most of the queens knowledge.
When the knowledge ran out it was supplemented with wealth, and over the following years more and more wealth was needed as Rulian slowly raised her prices.
This had two consequences, Salian's citizens no longer had the luxury to spend their lives learning, and because they no longer had the time there reputation as the most intelligent slowly began to degrade.
Velian was both the easiest and the hardest for Rulian, the supplies her army needed were enormous, but Rulian could not cut her of or increase the price to much or she might invade.
What she did was slowly make Velians army obsolete, she hired mercenaries to guard trade routes, made peace agreements with the nations overseas and overall insured that Velian had no reason to go to war. Velian enjoyed this time of peace and slowly over the years reduced her armies to a mere fraction to save costs, Thats when part two of Rulians plan came into action.
Many of the foreign allies Rulian made decided to attack Velian after she carelessly mentioned Velians current army size, when questioned how she knew she explained the supplies she exported to her.
After a secret agreement to stop all trade with Velian the other nations attacked, their combined might riped though Velians army and looted her capitol. And thus ended the reign of Velian.
Rulian in the years following retook the lands with the aid of the soldiers of Litian and Salian, who in return got much needed supplies.
With the soldiers of Litian and Salian reduced it was childsplay for Rulian to march on their capitols with her still intact army and demand their surrender.
And thus ended the era of the queens and began the era of Rulian.
| |
[WP] Once, there were Four queens. One held the grandest party ever, making her kingdom the happiest. One built the grandest university, making hers the wisest. One, however, raised the grandest army ever known, making hers the deadliest. And, finally, there was the Fourth queen... | The fourth Queen built deep mines, vast farms, and grand marketplaces, so that her kingdom became the richest. The scientists of the Wisest traveled to her, so that they could secure the funds to launch the grand projects they invented. The people of the Happiest flocked to her, for there was always something beautiful and fun to buy in her markets. Even the soldiers of the Deadliest, who eschewed such frivolity, traveled there, because a wealthy merchant will hire guards and a wealthy nation will hire mercenaries.
In time, diplomats from a kingdom across the sea visited the four kingdoms, seeking to ally with the most powerful nation. First they went to the palace of the Deadliest, for a kingdom's true power rests in its army. But the Deadliest Queen glared at them from her throne of swords, and said "I am but a humble soldier. I secure these lands, but I could never rule them."
So the diplomats went to the palace of the Wisest, for knowledge is power, so surely the most powerful nation must be the smartest. But the Wisest Queen looked up at them from her desk and said "I am but a humble scholar. I guide these lands, but I could never rule them."
So the diplomats went to the Happiest Palace, for surely only a powerful ruler could safely enjoy such luxury. And the Happiest Queen smiled at them from her banquet table and said "I am but a humble entertainer. I make the people happy, but I do not rule them."
So the diplomats scratched their heads and went to the palace of the Richest Queen, for it is said that money can buy anything, and they had heard she was responsible for everything that happened in the four kingdoms. And the Richest Queen looked down at them from her golden throne and said "I am but a humble merchant. I buy the services of these lands, but I do not rule them."
This greatly perplexed the diplomats, for they had gone everywhere on the island and found that nobody claimed to hold any power. One of them pondered that perhaps this meant that none of the kingdoms were powerful, which would make the island ripe for conquest.
The Richest Queen overheard this, and grew very angry. "None of our nations hold any power, but if your kingdom seeks to invade us, they will be annihilated by the most deadly, intelligent, wealthy, and happy nation in the world!"
The diplomats, still confused, returned home. They reported that the island was a strange place, where no nation held any power, yet the island as a whole was exceedingly wealthy and powerful. And the King Across the Sea laughed and said that he would divide them and conquer the island piece by piece.
But the spies of the Wisest overheard him, and the Happiest beat the drums of war, and the Richest raised an army, and the Deadliest delivered such a crushing defeat to the King Across the Sea that he never invaded them again.
And so the island remained at peace, and they prospered and traded with each other, until nobody could say where one nation ended and the other nation began. | Once there were four queens, there was Litian queen of the north, known for her extravagant parties and its happy citizens.
There was Salian queen of the west, known for the grand university's she founded and highly educated citizens who called it their home.
Velian queen of the east was best known for her army's, their size and strength unparalleled, not even the lowliest baker was without military training in her domain.
Rulian queen of the south was the one who changed all of it, she was known for her economy, easily outproducing many of the other kingdoms.
Rulian wished to unite the kingdoms but knew the other queens would never agree, thus she started a secret campaign, she started with reducing the prices for the other kingdoms to import her resources.
Slowly but surely she put the other kingdoms productions on decline or even halted them completely by making them unable to compete with her prices and infrastructure, Litian was the first victim, her dependency grew over the years, and when slowly the prices rose again she found the kingdom coffers draining at a rapid pace, of course she tried restarting production in her own country but it was to late, her dependency was her undoing.
She realized that the only way to save enough money was to cut back on parties and increase the burdens of the citizens, thus ended their era of happiness.
Salian though she was wise to trade knowledge rather then wealth for resources as there was always more knowledge to be gained, but she forgot that knowledge took time, it only took Rulian several years to gain most of the queens knowledge.
When the knowledge ran out it was supplemented with wealth, and over the following years more and more wealth was needed as Rulian slowly raised her prices.
This had two consequences, Salian's citizens no longer had the luxury to spend their lives learning, and because they no longer had the time there reputation as the most intelligent slowly began to degrade.
Velian was both the easiest and the hardest for Rulian, the supplies her army needed were enormous, but Rulian could not cut her of or increase the price to much or she might invade.
What she did was slowly make Velians army obsolete, she hired mercenaries to guard trade routes, made peace agreements with the nations overseas and overall insured that Velian had no reason to go to war. Velian enjoyed this time of peace and slowly over the years reduced her armies to a mere fraction to save costs, Thats when part two of Rulians plan came into action.
Many of the foreign allies Rulian made decided to attack Velian after she carelessly mentioned Velians current army size, when questioned how she knew she explained the supplies she exported to her.
After a secret agreement to stop all trade with Velian the other nations attacked, their combined might riped though Velians army and looted her capitol. And thus ended the reign of Velian.
Rulian in the years following retook the lands with the aid of the soldiers of Litian and Salian, who in return got much needed supplies.
With the soldiers of Litian and Salian reduced it was childsplay for Rulian to march on their capitols with her still intact army and demand their surrender.
And thus ended the era of the queens and began the era of Rulian.
| |
[WP] Once, there were Four queens. One held the grandest party ever, making her kingdom the happiest. One built the grandest university, making hers the wisest. One, however, raised the grandest army ever known, making hers the deadliest. And, finally, there was the Fourth queen... | The four sister were the like the four direction, never on the same page. Despite being from the same mother,they had each lived different lives and chosen different callings. That they all became queens was possibly their only commonality.
The Red Queen followed the philosophy of Hedonism. The eve of her coronation was marked by a celebration that was still ongoing 5 years down the line. The royal court was a merry procession that moved from city to city, bringing color and joy to many. The parties were so legendary that people from other kingdoms actually paid to attend. Exorbitant admittance fees ensured that wine never ran out. The Red Queen had invented the concept of clubs. She lived like there was no tomorrow.
The White Queen, or Aura, as she preferred was a lady of the books. She debated with scholars, paid patronage to great scientists and started universities to develop the next generation. She was the wisest, trusting the power of logical thinking to see through any perils.
Persephone or the Winter Queen was infamous among the land. Unlike others she hadn't inherited, married or been elected into power. She had simply taken it. The woman had walked into the royal court and massacred the entire Royal Guard. Having already brought the royal army to her side, she brutally squashed any attempts to displace her. By the year end, she was had firmly entrenched her influence. By the next, she launched simultaneous attacks on her three neighbors. 2 had surrendered withing the year. The last kingdom had been annihilated. Persephone was building an army to conquer the world. Its launch would mark the onset of the greatest war the Pangea continent had seen since the fracture of the Empire.
Hope was the last one. The youngest. She had inherited their home kingdom. Her sisters had left early, either getting married or leaving on their quest for knowledge and power. She was the one left behind to take care of mother. On the Queen's passing the court had passed on the crown to her for a simple trait she had displayed since childhood. She was perfectly ordinary.
Red was wild, Aura too isolated and Persephone down right dangerous. Hope was a sharp contrast to her siblings. She didn't possess the academic or military genius of the oldest two . And she certainly held Red's lifestyle in disdain. She was a perfectly ordinary person. She wasn't specially good or bad at anything. She was ....... nothing.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Which was why it was surprising to see that the Central Kingdom had flourished under Hope. She was nothing, that's why she could evolve her self into whatever the moment called for.
She knew her sisters were more brilliant than her,much more more passionate; so she watched and learned.
From Red she learned the importance of developing culture and tradition. How to keep the morale high. The importance of appearances. The exchange of culture was leading to a renaissance in her kingdom
Aura, the wise, was an important ally to her kingdoms. She sent many of her young populous to Aura's universities to become learned men and women. The knowledge they brought back was integral to kingdom's growth. From Aura she learned the importance of progress.
And from the Persephone she learned the necessity of action. Hope was frantic when one of her ministers started a rebellion to overthrow her. Persephone' advice was harsh, but it resolved the matter quickly and cemented her rule more thoroughly. She showed Hope how to build an army and how to keep loyalty. From her Hope learned the importance of strength.
In many ways Hope was like the moon. She didn't possess her own light, but she reflected the light of the sun to become the brightest object in the night sky.
Hope was a great leader of her time for she understood a simple fact: A leader does not have to do everything on her own. She just has to ensure that those under her can show their talent to their full potential.
| Once there were four queens, there was Litian queen of the north, known for her extravagant parties and its happy citizens.
There was Salian queen of the west, known for the grand university's she founded and highly educated citizens who called it their home.
Velian queen of the east was best known for her army's, their size and strength unparalleled, not even the lowliest baker was without military training in her domain.
Rulian queen of the south was the one who changed all of it, she was known for her economy, easily outproducing many of the other kingdoms.
Rulian wished to unite the kingdoms but knew the other queens would never agree, thus she started a secret campaign, she started with reducing the prices for the other kingdoms to import her resources.
Slowly but surely she put the other kingdoms productions on decline or even halted them completely by making them unable to compete with her prices and infrastructure, Litian was the first victim, her dependency grew over the years, and when slowly the prices rose again she found the kingdom coffers draining at a rapid pace, of course she tried restarting production in her own country but it was to late, her dependency was her undoing.
She realized that the only way to save enough money was to cut back on parties and increase the burdens of the citizens, thus ended their era of happiness.
Salian though she was wise to trade knowledge rather then wealth for resources as there was always more knowledge to be gained, but she forgot that knowledge took time, it only took Rulian several years to gain most of the queens knowledge.
When the knowledge ran out it was supplemented with wealth, and over the following years more and more wealth was needed as Rulian slowly raised her prices.
This had two consequences, Salian's citizens no longer had the luxury to spend their lives learning, and because they no longer had the time there reputation as the most intelligent slowly began to degrade.
Velian was both the easiest and the hardest for Rulian, the supplies her army needed were enormous, but Rulian could not cut her of or increase the price to much or she might invade.
What she did was slowly make Velians army obsolete, she hired mercenaries to guard trade routes, made peace agreements with the nations overseas and overall insured that Velian had no reason to go to war. Velian enjoyed this time of peace and slowly over the years reduced her armies to a mere fraction to save costs, Thats when part two of Rulians plan came into action.
Many of the foreign allies Rulian made decided to attack Velian after she carelessly mentioned Velians current army size, when questioned how she knew she explained the supplies she exported to her.
After a secret agreement to stop all trade with Velian the other nations attacked, their combined might riped though Velians army and looted her capitol. And thus ended the reign of Velian.
Rulian in the years following retook the lands with the aid of the soldiers of Litian and Salian, who in return got much needed supplies.
With the soldiers of Litian and Salian reduced it was childsplay for Rulian to march on their capitols with her still intact army and demand their surrender.
And thus ended the era of the queens and began the era of Rulian.
| |
[WP] Once, there were Four queens. One held the grandest party ever, making her kingdom the happiest. One built the grandest university, making hers the wisest. One, however, raised the grandest army ever known, making hers the deadliest. And, finally, there was the Fourth queen... | "Uh.... Food?", Queen 1 inquired.
"Yes. Food.", replied Queen 4.
Queen 3 started laughing uncontrollably. Queen 1 just stood there shocked and confused.
"Why don't you come see my queendom?" Queen 4 said as she rolled her eyes and gestured towards the balcony.
The doors opened and revealed farms for as far as the eye could see. The"city" around the palace was pitifully small.
Queen 1 cleared her throat and said, "Well I better get going, I have something fun planned for my subjects."
Queen 3 stopped laughing and grinned. "I shall also go... uh... train some troops."
Queen 2 looked strangely at Queen 4. She finally remarked, "This is an interesting focus you have, but I do wish to tell you that my queendom will be building spaceships before your queendom gets anywhere."
Queen 4 was left alone but smiled.
As expected Queen 3 came for war a couple years later. Queen 3's army was shocked at how numerous Queen 4's army was. The army seemed to go on forever. Slowly but surely, Queen 3's army dwindled and so she retreated.
Queen 2 eventually came to visit much later and was surprised to find Queen 4's people operating factories. Queen 2's people, who had been thoroughly focused on science had only just established their first public university.
Queen 1 was partying when she saw a huge rocket shoot into the sky from Queen 4's kingdom. The music stopped.
Back in Queen 4's palace, Queen 4 smirked and remarked to herself, "Stupid noobs... they don't know how to play Civilisation 5." | Four Queens.
The Opal Queen threw a party of otherworldly extravagance to last countless generations, all in her kingdom would spend each day of their lives celebrating and rejoicing. There was endless fun to be had and joy was a plenty. However they could never truly appreciate what they had for the lacked the knowledge to understand it and contentment was hard found amongst them.
The Sapphire Queen built a great library and amassed the greatest wealth of information the world had ever seen. All the people of her kingdom studied in this immense house of learning and not a soul among them was without great knowledge. However as much as they might have learned they failed to ever truly live and they never knew contentment.
The Ruby Queen bred her people for war, all her subjects played a role in the army from the smallest girl-child to the oldest man each had their part to play. They made war with all nations around them and none could resist their might. However they fought amongst themselves as much as with their enemies and the kingdom was rife with discontent.
These three Queens each thought themself the greatest leader the world had to offer, they were blind to the unhappiness their people suffered. They also failed to notice a fourth arising amongst the people.
The Dirt Queen knew no riches and came from no nobility. She was of the people, raised by them and now she moved to unite them. Too long the Jewel Queens had ruled over the three great continents and now time had come to dethrone them. The Dirt Queen wore her title with pride, she held no shame in her background. She knew she was not perfect but that if perfection were to be found it lay in balance. The extremes of the Queens had been their greatest faults, too absorbed in one belief to appreciate the intricate complexity of life. The people rallied behind their new Queen, in her they had found the courage to seek change!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Edit: Spelling & Grammar corrections. | |
[WP] You believe you are one of the last people alive on earth after an apocalypse. You have taken refuge in a building with a radio tower and have been broadcasting daily, imploring any survivors to come to you, and just talking. Your supplies have run out, and you broadcast one last time. | The trek stops today, whether I want it to or not. The end already came for the rest of them, and I can feel it catching up to me as well. I've forgotten what day it is at this point, how could I possibly tell? I suppose this is how I die, doomed to starve in this eternal night. Alone, separated from the husks of humanity, in this god forsaken wilderness.
When the first meteor hit, half of eastern Asia was taken out by the tsunamis alone. The second one came a few days later, an asteroid 300km in diameter smack dab into eastern Hungary.
When people started coming to their senses, that's when the looting began. Cities were ghost towns within weeks, devoid of food and water. Like Pompeii, 2000 years ago, the ash cloud plowed through all living organisms in its way. By 2 weeks later, anyone that hadn't evaded the cloud was dead.
I had batteries for months and food for years, and now I have batteries for perhaps a couple more hours. I stopped using my flashlight when it stopped mattering what was or wasn't in the dark, but my radio was always on. Today, it would have to go too. As I scroll through the channels of white noise one final time, the sound of music shocks me to attention. Is this it? Have I finally found someone to share in my affirmed destruction? I tune in the station only to hear:
"We're no strangers to looooooove..." | "My name is Allan Lewinsky. For ten years, I've been broadcasting from the St. Louis radio antenna, located right off of Brown Street. I'd begin everyone of my daily broadcasts the same way, 'Good Morning and welcome to the final station, the last hope for all those who might remain out there.' But sadly the final station is broadcasting for the final time. For ten years, I've made this broadcasting station my home. I built a guest room... for anyone that wished to have it. I always had spare rations on the off chance somebody showed up, but nobody did and I don't have those rations anymore. For ten years I'd ask anybody remaining to come to the broadcasting station or just give me a sign that I'm not the last one alive. Nobody has done that in the ten years of this station. I promise you, if there is anyone there, that all I wanted was to know you. I wanted to know that I wasn't going to be the one to see the final sunset, the one to say the final word... I didn't want to have the last laugh, never did. I just wanted to know you. I've waited ten years for you and I've never been able to even say hello or get your name. My name is Allan Lewinsky, I was born in this city and I lived in it for my entire life. I married a beautiful woman... her name was Elise. She died along with the others the first day. Today I turn sixty-three and I don't care. What are celebrations if nobody else is there to celebrate with. My name is Allan Lewinsky. Today there is a slight chance of rain. I am the last human alive, I saw the final sunset, said the last word, and had the... last laugh. Thank you, and goodnight." | |
[WP] You believe you are one of the last people alive on earth after an apocalypse. You have taken refuge in a building with a radio tower and have been broadcasting daily, imploring any survivors to come to you, and just talking. Your supplies have run out, and you broadcast one last time. | The trek stops today, whether I want it to or not. The end already came for the rest of them, and I can feel it catching up to me as well. I've forgotten what day it is at this point, how could I possibly tell? I suppose this is how I die, doomed to starve in this eternal night. Alone, separated from the husks of humanity, in this god forsaken wilderness.
When the first meteor hit, half of eastern Asia was taken out by the tsunamis alone. The second one came a few days later, an asteroid 300km in diameter smack dab into eastern Hungary.
When people started coming to their senses, that's when the looting began. Cities were ghost towns within weeks, devoid of food and water. Like Pompeii, 2000 years ago, the ash cloud plowed through all living organisms in its way. By 2 weeks later, anyone that hadn't evaded the cloud was dead.
I had batteries for months and food for years, and now I have batteries for perhaps a couple more hours. I stopped using my flashlight when it stopped mattering what was or wasn't in the dark, but my radio was always on. Today, it would have to go too. As I scroll through the channels of white noise one final time, the sound of music shocks me to attention. Is this it? Have I finally found someone to share in my affirmed destruction? I tune in the station only to hear:
"We're no strangers to looooooove..." | All right, I'm still here. Uh...it-it's 4 October 2018. Tues...Tues...Tuesday, I think. Thursday maybe. I only keep track so I have something else to think about. First Sergeant John O'Hara checking in.
Uh, two? Two years I think, since the world shifted. Two years, thirteen days. I was deployed when it happened, so it must've been two...whatever. Uh.
This broadcast is to any and all survivors. I haven't seen human in...hell, a year? Eighteen months? Whatever. Anyway, here I am. I'm at the Williams Building, looking over downtown. I set up shop here a little over a week ago, only thing here was this radio. I don't even know if it works. Um....I uh....found the bar, last night. Only thing to drink, heh.
Um. I'm moving to the Mayo, hoping to find something there. If you're listening, I'll be there at 0400 tomorrow, hoping to dodge the solar slag but still get some sleep tonight. Anyone's welcome, I guess. Ever you Jackal bastards. No food left for you to steal anyway. Um....hold on, I don't really....Sorry. If you want someone to starve with, you know where I'll be. My only request is if you kill me, don't waste me. Still some good meat left on me.
Challenge word is Star, reply is Texas. I'll see you there, maybe. Good luck, if not.
O'Hara, signing off. | |
[WP] You believe you are one of the last people alive on earth after an apocalypse. You have taken refuge in a building with a radio tower and have been broadcasting daily, imploring any survivors to come to you, and just talking. Your supplies have run out, and you broadcast one last time. |
Looking out the window onto the ravaged, desolate street, I took a deep breath. The smell of mildew and musty wood engulfed me, a scent I had learned to ignore. As the reality of the situation settled in my thoughts for what could be the final time, I breathed out in a heavy sigh.
"Is this really it? After everything that happened, all the shit I went through, this is the end?" I thought.
It was unbelievable. Despite it being so long, everything up until now just seems so... short. Time doesn't really mean much when you're so close to the end. Everything just feels so empty. Your thoughts, your surroundings, even your memories.
What does any of that mean when nobody else is there?
I looked at the microphone sitting on the oak table, surrounded by dials, half of which I didn't even understand. Was this final endeavor pointless? Should I even make the effort, simply because the only thought with any content I can manage to muster is "What if?", just to disappoint myself again and again?
I picked up the opened, half empty can of chili sauce, the rancid aroma piercing my nostrils. Returning it, I went back to the window and pried it open to retrieve some water. Being careful not to collect too many debris, I picked the mug up off of the windowsill and dipped it into what used to be a flower box.
I returned to the desk, pouring the water into the can. I swished it around trying to retrieve as much of the contents as I could, then took a sip of the disgusting solution. Holding back the desire to gag, I set the solution back down.
I looked back to the window, the smell of the seared landscape fresh from the recent rain. The smell that reminded me every day, nothing would ever be the same. I never understood that sentiment until it happened.
Returning my attention back to the microphone, I pressed the button that had become so worn down from my countless efforts to reach anyone. My need to be choosy had long been eradicated, at a certain point I realized I'd rather be murdered than spend another day alone.
I recited the oration I had burned into my mind; "Hello. I am a survivor of the apocalypse that occurred in 2015. If anyone can hear this, I am located at the Radio Station Office in Virginia Beach, near the 264 and 64 Interchange. From there, go east and take the 15A exit to Greenwich road, and I am on Ivy court."
Taking a breath, I continued trying to keep my speech clear and audible; "If you can hear this, respond on frequencies of 30-300 Hz. I have shelter, electricity, and enough food t-"
I paused. I got up and rummaged through all my things. Boxes, crates, closets. I looked through everything, and then I looked again. I already knew what I would find: nothing. I looked anyways. Detached, I walked slowly towards the microphone, and took a seat, glancing at the putrid can of chili water.
"S... sorry about that... I have enough food to.. uhh... to last for a few.... for a few days. Please. uh, please respond. I'm.. just so fucking *lonely*!"
Choking back tears and breaking my own superficial procedure, I attempted to compose myself and stammered; "If anyone, literally anyone can hear me, I need *someone*. I've been alone for more months than I can count, I don't know what to do anymore, I'm scared. Please, I'm begging you. I've been doing this for so long, it's all been for nothing. I've experienced failure day in and out, again and again. Anyone..."
My face became hot, and my chest tingling. I slammed the table, screaming into the microphone "WHY? WHY WON'T YOU ANSWER? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS? I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG! I didn't do anything..."
I was broken. Sobbing on the table for God knows how long. "fuck you.." I stuttered out. "fuck you, fuck you fuck you FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!" I shouted, slamming my hands against the table, as everything clattered atop it.
My eyes filled with tears, I stopped lying to myself. This was really it. I wiped my face, feeling like a golf ball was stuck in my throat. I looked around the room, and I saw it. The can, spilled onto the floor. In reality, it probably didn't matter anyways. The only purpose that served was a slap in the face to my endeavor.
My eyes drifted, focusing on the lid, sharp jagged edges glistening from the dreary light entering the window.
***
This is my first time doing something like this. Any advice would be appreciated, not sure how much I should put here in this... footnote? | "This is Rockin' Rob Bower coming to you live from the huge antennae, This next song is going out to all the lovers. God damn it, is anyone out there, I need help. I am out of stuff, the vending machine is empty and the my sink filled with water, its all gone. If anyone can hear me I am at the antennae thing in the middle of the desert. God damn it help me!
Rocking Rob was lucky, sort of. He was out in the desert doing peyote when the first bomb was dropped on what he could assume was Los Angeles and then some more dropped just South, possibly in San Diego and he eventually figured the glow to the East was Las Vegas.
Its an odd sensation to watch the deaths millions of people thinking that it was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
It was quite spectacular, would up vote, but now Rob may be the last person on Earth. But that's not going to last long, he is trapped hundred of miles from nowhere with no food and no water and nuclear rage fire happening all around him.
Too start with Rob wasn't a skinny dude. The amount of mass he dropped though in such a short amount of time was staggering. The contents of the vending machine did not last a week. It seemed the processed food just made him hungrier.
When it was gone he emptied the fridge in the small kitchenette in the shack attached to the antennae. The shack had a dozen cubicles shoved into it, one sound booth and three offices all marked with some degree of management. He found and ate condiment packets. Not one thing that once had food in it was safe from being licked clean.
Out of desperation he has tried to set traps for bugs and rodents. The flesh was willing but he was a complete moron when it came to woodsy stuff.
At first he thought being in a radio antennae would be cool, until he discovered there was no music to be had. It was a weather station broadcasting regional updates.
In a desert!
That had to be the most boring job. Probably almost as boring as sitting out here waiting to die.
Rocking Rob lowers his head. Its been two weeks since had any food. he has been thinking about cutting flesh from his leg and maybe getting a couple more days off the calories.
He wont do it though he will hold out hope.
The air outside is filled with black snow. He was afraid to walk through the dark desert looking for rescue, but now it's too late.
His hand trembles under the effort to squeeze the talk button on the microphone.
He whispers, "please," before the strength to leaves his body.
In terms of struggle Rob did not put up much of one and maybe the world is better off for it. | |
[WP] She still continued to knock on my window even as the blizzard struck the city. "Please let me in dear, it's cold outside." | I must be dreaming. There's no way this is real.
There's no goddamn way this girl is outside my window in the middle of a blizzard in a sundress and no shoes on. I mean, I'm looking at her, but she can't *actually* be there.
"Are you pinching yourself?" she shouts through the glass. I look down at my wrist. Why yes, yes I am. "Please let me in, dear, it's cold out here.", she continues, which is a weird thing to say cause (aside from the fact that she called me "dear") she doesn't look cold at all. Her eyes are sad but the rest of her looks absolutely at ease in the snow. Like she's Jack Frost's cousin or something.
Oh whoops, guess I was too busy staring to actually answer, 'cause she just let out a real depressed sigh and began to walk away all dejectedly. Now I feel like a shit. Something awful must have happened to her. Like her house caught on fire and all she had time to put on before escaping the blazing pit of death was a little green sun dress. Or maybe she had been kidnapped and had just escaped from a kidnapper furiously pursuing her through the streets of Calm Valley just as I'm thinking about this now.
I open the door and go "Hey, whoa! I'm sorry, you just surprised me! Come in, please."
She turns around and boy oh boy the smile she gives could melt a solid block of ice, which I suppose isn't a very good metaphor, because a blow-dryer could do the same thing. She's way prettier than a blow-dryer, though.
She has jet-black hair and mahogany skin and almond eyes and a dancer's figure and a grin that's like summer. "Thank you", she says. Her voice is like warm maple syrup once it's not being filtered through a window. She's the kind of girl who can get away with wearing nothing but a sun dress in the snow. Well, not quite, but almost. She moves past me, almost floating.
I have a small crib, the first floor in dingy apartment complex consisting of a bedroom, a living room, kitchen and bathroom. Despite the name, Calm Valley is a shit-show and the real estate is equally cheap and shitty. But my living room does have a pellet stove, and a cute little carpet I got at Walmart. She takes my rocking chair and sits by the fire. I close the door and go get a towel from the bathroom. When I come back she's rocking peacefully back and forth. Her eyes look less sad now- but not wholly. The snow on her arms and legs starts to melt, living a thin residue of moisture. She has nice legs, I notice.
"Would you like something to eat? Something to drink?" I ask as I hand her the towel.
"Some warm tea would be nice, please." I make her the tea. She drinks it slowly, savoring each sip. I put honey and milk in it, so I'm glad she likes it. I'm just kind of waiting for her to say something though...
Fuck it. "So, um, what happened?"
"What do you mean?" She replies.
*What? What the fuck does she think I mean? It's -10 degrees and she ended up at my door-step with no shoes on!* I only think that though. What I actually say is: "Um, well, you're a little under dressed for the weather. And I've never seen you around before...so, I guess, I mean...what's your story?"
She looks me right in the eye and says, "Ok, pull up a chair, and I'll tell you."
*Motherfucker. This is not a negotiation.*, I think. "Ok." I say. *I'm an idiot*, I think. I pull up a chair.
She stops rocking back and forth. "You know, you're the first person to actually let me in. Well, the second person. I've been to six houses so far. Five refused me. One man let me in, but I'm pretty sure he was trying to have his way with me so I got the fuck out of there quick."
"Did you call the cops?!?"
"Nah, I took care of it," she says. I'm confused by that line. What did she do to him? What will she do to me if she gets the idea that I'm some kind of threat? Is this skinny 5'4" girl even capable of doing anything remotely scary? What drugs did she take?
"What do you mean?"
"Don't worry. Anyway, I really appreciate you letting me in." She looks right at me as she says it. Her lips are really pink. "And you're not a stranger."
"What? I mean, have we met?"
"When you were a little baby, you probably don't remember me much." She smiles, but this isn't an ice-melting smile. It's more like a 'Ha ha I'm fucking with you with smile'. "I'm older than I look." She continues. Well, she looks 21. But I'm 22, and if she was there when I was an infant that would make her 44. She's lying. No fucking way she's that old. Not unless the super rich have figured out how to freeze themselves and wake themselves up later in time and just didn't bother telling poor grad students like me. Why would she lie though? *And what did she do to that guy?* She's laughing quietly. She puts down her tea. "I know you don't believe me, Jake. But I'm promise, I could *definitely* be your mother. Also, I never introduced myself properly. You can call me Holly."
"N-nice to meet you, Holly." None of this makes sense. First she comes to my window in a green sun dress in the middle of a blizzard. Then she says she's 42 when she looks like she's my age. Then she says she knew me when I was a baby. This bitch is on heroin. I knew it. Why did I let her in. I'm so stupid. I- wait. How did she know my name? "How do you know my name?"
"Call me a family friend. I knew your grandmother, I use to play with her when she was a child."
Ok. Yes. Heroin confirmed. What the fuck do I do? How do I get her out of my house? "I see. Well, that's nice. Where do you live? Perhaps I can call a taxi?"
"No, no, that won't be necessary. I'll be on my way soon. But I'm really happy you're the one who let me in. Because I wanted to give my condolences. I know your grandmother passed away quite recently. We were close."
So she's not only a drug addict, she's an insensitive lunatic. Who thinks it's funny to make fun of people's dead grandmothers. I get up and open my mouth, but she's not done talking.
"After your kindness today, offering a warm place by the fire and tea to a stranger, I see you take after her. Because she was my friend, I will be yours. Always know someone is watching out for you-"
"Ok, look, do you need a taxi? Because I really can call you a taxi. It's snowing but the roads were cleared a little while ago and we can check and see if they're running. If not maybe the cops can give you a lift- but it's getting late and I should really get you home. I'm sure someone is worrying about you."
"Even when you're kicking me out, so polite! You were raised right, young man." Holly stands up and float-walks over to me. There's something inhumanly desirable about this girl. She smells like a spring garden, and her skin looks so soft up close. Like expensive silk. She touches my hand and I want to kick myself in the nut-sack for wanting to kiss her on her lips. Being a young man is, I suppose, a little complicated. Wait, was is she doing? What the- ok, yes, she kissed me, and for a split second I'm transported into Narnia. Or is it Nirvana? All I know is the place where I was was soft and sweet and full of flowers and the kind of doughnuts you get fresh off the farms where you go apple picking.
I open my eyes and she's gone. The door isn't open, neither the windows. But there's holly, holly fucking everywhere. It's growing out of my walls, the carpets, my ceiling. OMFG THERE IS HOLLY EVERYWHERE. GREEN-ASS HOLLY WITH THE LITTLE BERRIES IN IT. LIKE IT'S CHRISTMAS. The shock knocks me off balance. I back up clumsily and the heels of my feet hit something hard. I whip around and there's a little antique, wooden jewelry box with its lid half open. In it are two things: one is a picture, slightly faded, of my grandma as a little girl. She's like maybe five in it, but next to her is Holly in the same damn green sun dress looking the same damn age she did today. The picture is signed in cursive: "Love, Holly." Underneath the letter, the jewelry box was filled with what appears to be pieces of solid gold- shaped into holly leaves.
| I killed her so, I did-- she died,
And as the snow blew in, I heard "it's cold outside",
But colder in here, colder in here.
Colder by far in here, my dear.
..
The scratching at the window pane,
Driving me quickly insane,
It's darker in here, darker in here...
Darker by far in here, my dear.
..
Fingers of bone in blowing snow,
Howling aloud the cold wind blows,
Louder in here, louder in here,
Louder by far in here, my dear.
***
Rattling at the doorframe,
As a wind blows the fire,
It gutters, the flame,
And the snow blows ever higher.
I run to my closet,
I run to my bed,
And then I hear footsteps,
On the roof overhead.
The chimney is open,
Though the fire is gone.
I peek down the hallway,
Then slip slippers on.
Scuttling on cold brick,
A shadow on the hearth,
Churning, my stomach sick,
Will this stop my heart?
A groaning sigh ahead,
Something soot-black from the fire,
A thing reeking and dead.
In the cold I perspire,
Closing my bedroom door.
There comes rap-rap-rapping,
Bones rat-rat-rattling,
Heart tap-tap-tapping,
And a voice from the noir:
..
"Please let me in dear, it's cold outside."
Her voice steals my breath,
Radiating the cold from inside,
And I know she is death.
..
I am her lover, her partner in life.
Even though I killed her,
And chopped her up with my knife,
She came back, the dead of winter.
..
Opening the door, I embrace a shade,
Claws curling for my vitality,
She's ending this charade,
Of life in normality.
..
My mouth brought to her ragged lips,
Yellowed flesh peeled back,
We're brought into a final kiss,
My blue soul burned to black.
***
My mind slips away now in this white padded place,
Brought to bear by the memory of her face,
Louder in here, louder in here,
Louder by far in here, my dear.
..
Long shards of broken mirror in my fist,
The end one finds to a life like this.
Darker in here, darker in here,
Darker by far in here, my dear.
..
Red blood spraying, staining the whitewashed walls,
Hell may come, but it's an end to it all,
But it's colder in here, colder in here.
Colder by far in here, my dear. | |
[WP] Someone has been using /r/WritingPrompts to get people to do their English homework. | Bill walked into Sophomore English class that morning with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. He smirked, rather proud of this scam that he had been pulling.
Last semester, he was failing English. He hated to read, and had no talent for writing. He simply didn't care; the written word was a joke to him, particularly when it was getting in the way of playing Halo with his buddies, or demonstrating his worth to the varsity football coach. Nah, words were only for the titles of the porn he watched on his laptop after his mom went to sleep.
This semester, however, he had discovered the r/WritingPrompts, a thread on a popular message board site where users went and shared different ideas and inspiration for stories. It was a jump from his typical r/woahdude, the stoner's favorite thread. He would place his assignments for English on this thread, and wait for others to write his essays for him. He wouldn't have credited them if he could; he felt he deserved all the credit for being so clever.
He walked confidently up to the teacher's desk, and handed his paper over. Mr. Washington was young and clever as well, and looked over his dark framed glasses at Bill. It seemed a little strange that he had gone from a D student to an A/B student in just a few months.
"Thank you Bill," he said after a beat, glancing down at the student's paper.
"Sir," Bill responded, inclining his head and smiling even more broadly.
Bill was halfway back to his seat when Mr. Washington called, "Can you come back here for a moment, Bill?"
As Bill approached the desk, still smirking, Mr. Washington returned the expression with even more gusto. "I wanted to let you know, us unhip teachers have been clued into some of the day's more popular websites, and I especially am invested in one of them...reddit, it's called. It's a wonderful tool, not just for entertainment, but for professional issues, personal issues, creative improvement and advancement, it's just awesome." Mr. Washington was relishing the quick disappearance of the kid's smirk, the color draining from his face and his eyes getting shifty. "Do you know of this site?"
"I think a friend might have mentioned it once," Bill said, trying hard to mask the anxiety in his voice.
Mr. Washington continued as he briefly perused through the essay and then wrote a big fat F over the entire front page. "Well, I think you should check it out sometime. I think you would find a user named "SuperbWordNerd" to be very similar to you in writing style."
"Oh? Is it a friend of yours?"
"No", Mr. Washington stated, smiling amicably at his student and handing back his paper. "It's me. You just plagiarized my work. For MY class. You can head to the principal's office and see if he can give you something new to smirk about." | ''Mr. Colton please stay after class''
John Greymound was the english teacher at the South houston Highschool since summer last year and found himself angered and somewhat surprised when he read Daniel Colton's assignment.
''Everyone else can leave, don't forget homework this time. Yes, Jimmy, i'm talking to you''
John was sitting on his desk and was watching Daniel's every move, from him getting up of his chair 'til he arrived infront of him.
''Yes, Mr. Greymound''
''Take a seat please. I want to talk about your homework. As you know, last friday i asked all of you write a small sciene fiction story about dwarves and elves.'' Truth was, Mr Greymound didn't knew how to tell the kid this news.
''So, Daniel, i found myself browsing over Writing Prompts on the weekend and i happened to stumble upon a post that was *prompting* me to write a science fiction about dwarves and elves and that kind of stuff. I didnt thought of it and i just did it, you know?''
Daniel Colton's forehead was dripping with sweat and his heart was about to sink because he knew that he'd been caught.
''And today, Mr Colton, i read your report. And it turns out your homework is *word by word* what i wrote on that prompt last sunday. How long have you been doing this? You know what, don't even answer. I just wanna let you know you'll be going to detention and you will use the time to rewrite your prompt.''
Mr. Greymound let the kid go, but before he left, Daniel Colton turned around and asked him like if it was no big deal *And what kind of story should i write, Mr Greymound?*. John was staring at his screen already searching for new prompts to write. ''Uh, i dont know... You can probably make it about a kid who uses Writing prompts to do his english homework''.
Daniel Colton left with a grin on his face. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | Red dust swirled in the the door as Satan stepped into the pub. The patrons fell silent save for a few hushed whispers. "Ayy mate you made it!" Yelled God across the room "come sit down". Satan took the stool next to God and sat down gesturing to the barman, "I'll have a pint of export mate". The bartender poured a glass of the chilled larger, he placed it on the bar in front of Satan saying "keep it down yeah?, I don't want any trouble", "don't sweat it mate the big guy here will keep things under control" replied Satan giving God a slap on the back. "He's bloody smashed" sighed the bartender wandering down to the other end of the bar. "How many have you had?" Satan questioned.
"About 30 pints".
"Geez your a lightweight"
"Bugger off"
"Can't hold your bloody piss mate "
"Yeah talk shit, I reckon I could still flog you in a game of pool"
"Your on!" Shouted Satan slapping his empty glass down on the bar, "how about we put a bet on it though?, I'll bet a 20"
"Bigger that mate let's get serious, winner gets the human race for the next hundred years"
The bartender watch them walk across the room to the pool table and sighed "I really need to stop dad from drinking" | "Damn you." Satan sighed as she accepted the stool offered by the blue eyed wizard.
The old sage stroked his beard in a pondering sort of fashion.
"Damn you? I cant be damned? Im..."
Two ice cold mugs of ale slammed in front of the two visiting travelers. The bar keeper bellowed, "Two ice cold brewskies for the Magnificent Frizzbit and his guest!"
The stocky armed inn keeper eyed the wizards companion curiously. "And who might this guest be?"
The old wizards eyes lit up with delight, "Why One Tooth, can't ya see the resemblance? This is my lovely daughter Lucy!"
Lucy feverishly twisted the ends of her long black hair and hissed, "Its Satan. Not Lucy."
Frizzbit rolled his eyes as the bar keeper inched back towards the long shelves of dusty liquor bottles. "Well, I'll let you two get to it! Ive got customers to tend to. This ones on the house Frizzy."
The innkeeper flashed a troubled smile revealing, one tooth, before turning around and hastily grabbing bottles off the shelf.
"What do you want Dad. I mean...Father?" Lucy sneered.
The old wizard pulled a peeling knife out of the depths of his robes. "I swear that orange was..."
Lucy shook her head and lazily pointed at the wizards tall pointy hat.
Frizzbit clapped, "Oh yes, yes yes." The old sage flipped his hat acrobatically and resting atop his long white hair was indeed, a shiny orange. He quickly retrieved the fruit, replaced his hat and began peeling.
"I have some exciting news to tell you! Youre going to have a baby brother!"
Completely stunned, Lucy's hands fiddled threw her own robes, before finally producing a shiny red apple. Frizzbit handed over the peeling knife with the same jolly grin he always had. Lucy angrily peeled the red fruit. With each slice she found it harder and harder to fight back her tears.
To be continued
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | A peculiar thing happened the other day. Quite possibly the most peculiar thing to have ever happened in the history of ever. Let me explain…
It was four in the morning and I was just outside of Nevada. Some old shack of a bar fashioned from the remains of an old wooden caravan. I’d stopped for a few hours to rest my weary eyes from a hypnotic desert drive. There was only one other patron; a sweet faced, almost angelic older fellow reading at the bar. He was sipping what I assumed to be whisky, and had an unopened beer beside him. "Who in the name of God could he be waiting for out here?” I thought to myself. Just then, almost in response to my thoughts, a disheveled yet devilishly handsome young man steps through the door, and without missing a step takes a seat next to the old man.
“have we met before?” cheekily asks the handsome drifter as he takes a seat.
the old man gives him a warm smile, rises from his stool and extends his arms out on either side, waiting to receive the younger man in his embrace. begrudgingly, the young man accepts this greeting, and the two return to their stools. “such a cavalier greeting, even for you.” says the younger one. "Not sure how I feel about this look though, Old man.” the Old man slides the now open beer to the young man before responding. “would you rather have me young, attractive, and fetching for the attention of all that may gaze upon me? No, remember I come here to observe; this…” he motions toward himself. “…is observant; easily unnoticed and it doesn’t warrant attention.” The young man takes a second to look his elder up and down once more. “ You look like a desert santa clause.” the young man bursts into laughter, in uproar over his own silly joke. “Be that as it may, our chosen aesthetic is not the topic of conversation this morning.” replies the old man. “ alright then SIR, what is it you’d wish to talk about this time. My petty sins perhaps? Maybe my recent involvance in the American presidential election? Even you can’t deny this Trump guy is great.” “No, that is not wh—.” “Oh, don’t tell me it’s the same old song and dance about how much you disapprove of my time here? Look, Ive told you time and ti—.”
“Talitha is dead.” solemnly interjects the older man.
Before I continue, id like to mention that at this point, neither of the two had seemed to notice me, or if they had, didn’t bother to care that i was listening. This is important because the contents of their proceeding conversation would make anyone question…pretty much everything.
The room seemed to pause, as if the air itself had been stifled and ordered to participate in a moment of silence for this “Talitha.”
whatever cavalier attitude the young man entered with had been washed away by the old mans statement. “I’m sorry, truly. How old?” “ninety-two.” responded the old man. “ninety-two is a nice age.” says the young man." At that point it becomes a chore; living….*sigh* nothing I’m going to say will help though. Time is and will be the only way it gets better, as always. Unless you intervene…. Will you ever intervene?” “Never, endings make the beginning mean something.” answered the old man curtly. “It had been twenty four years since I last spoke to her. I told her id be waiting for her, one last comforting thought." the old man chuckled to himself. "Dammit old timer, how many times will it take before you stop getting involved with women down here? Does your omnipotence not protect you from making the same mistakes over and over again? And what about her? She, if no one else, deserved more.” The old man pauses before speaking, then smiled warmly at the young man. "Love was never your strong suit, but i don’t doubt you have some form of it somewhere in you." The young man rises from his stool, clearly upset by the old mans last statement. "I’m glad that you came, I’ll be returning home this evening. Before you go, I want to ask you if you would allow Talitha’s remembrance to remain with you?” The young man, now halfway across the room stops his stride and utters a faint “yes” before disappearing into the desert from whence he came.
“I knew you were here.” said the man, now sitting across from me. “Oh, sorry I must have dozed off, i didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your conversation by the way, hard not to listen in a place so small.” I mumbled, half asleep. “He didn’t” the old man throws his thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “Too caught up in himself I suppose. Good thing, for you that is, such knowledge you’ve been privy to this morning! Had he been aware of your presence, you’d have been enslaved for eternity!” My words caught in my throat. “A joke, Mason. You should be plenty rested by now, off to Vegas with you, don’t disappoint me by not disappointing me while you’re there!” words begin to drip from my mouth “uhh, yea, don’t disappoint, got it. Not sure how I feel right now, anything you can say to maybe relieve this existential crisis Im having?” The Old man laughs “No unfortunately, you’re smart enough to acknowledge a higher power. err— you are now that is. I ask you only one thing, the girl that my friend and I discussed, keep that a secret, yea? If you don’t, Ill smite you where you stand.” the sentence seemed to resonate in my head like a gong. I hesitated for a moment, reeling from the levity of this mornings events. “Uh, sir…God, i guess… Of all the questions I could ask, I only would like to know one thing, and that is, who was she, and why did you want your friend to have her?” God gave me the same warm smile he gave what I assume was Satan. “She was my daughter, and as for why I wanted him to have her, well, Talitha will remain a physical rememberence in the afterlife, a statue of a young girl in this case. I can’t bear to see that for eternity, but I think that he could, and although he might not admit it, Id say he would rather enjoy it." God looked around the small weathered tavern with a satisfied look upon his face and took a final sip from his glass. "But alas, i must be off, been here a good hundred years of so, getting kind of homesick to be honest. Good morning Mason, use HANGOVER HEAVEN for all of your morning after needs and good luck with your sins."
I awoke again, this time in what I’m assuming was my hotel room in Vegas, short on the details of last night, and suffering a headache from what seemed like hell itself. My hotel room was clean, immaculate even, as if I had arrived already asleep. The only thing that seemed out of place was a metal dish on the floor with a single card resting in the middle of it. It read…
HANGOVER HEAVEN
headache from hell?
come experience a resurrection of relaxation
702-555-1122
p.s. don’t get smitten | "Damn you." Satan sighed as she accepted the stool offered by the blue eyed wizard.
The old sage stroked his beard in a pondering sort of fashion.
"Damn you? I cant be damned? Im..."
Two ice cold mugs of ale slammed in front of the two visiting travelers. The bar keeper bellowed, "Two ice cold brewskies for the Magnificent Frizzbit and his guest!"
The stocky armed inn keeper eyed the wizards companion curiously. "And who might this guest be?"
The old wizards eyes lit up with delight, "Why One Tooth, can't ya see the resemblance? This is my lovely daughter Lucy!"
Lucy feverishly twisted the ends of her long black hair and hissed, "Its Satan. Not Lucy."
Frizzbit rolled his eyes as the bar keeper inched back towards the long shelves of dusty liquor bottles. "Well, I'll let you two get to it! Ive got customers to tend to. This ones on the house Frizzy."
The innkeeper flashed a troubled smile revealing, one tooth, before turning around and hastily grabbing bottles off the shelf.
"What do you want Dad. I mean...Father?" Lucy sneered.
The old wizard pulled a peeling knife out of the depths of his robes. "I swear that orange was..."
Lucy shook her head and lazily pointed at the wizards tall pointy hat.
Frizzbit clapped, "Oh yes, yes yes." The old sage flipped his hat acrobatically and resting atop his long white hair was indeed, a shiny orange. He quickly retrieved the fruit, replaced his hat and began peeling.
"I have some exciting news to tell you! Youre going to have a baby brother!"
Completely stunned, Lucy's hands fiddled threw her own robes, before finally producing a shiny red apple. Frizzbit handed over the peeling knife with the same jolly grin he always had. Lucy angrily peeled the red fruit. With each slice she found it harder and harder to fight back her tears.
To be continued
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Luuuucy, look at you, you haven't changed a bit!" The man who spoke was jovial, and wore a basic white polo shirt over khaki pants. His face was old, but there was something indefinably youthful about his eyes.
"You know I hate that nickname. That joke has never been funny," said the man who was now pulling up a chair next to him at the bar. He waved down the bartender and asked for a whiskey, neat.
"You have to lighten up, my friend. It was just a joke!" The older man took a sip of his drink and put it down on the bar. He looked over at the other man, who was dressed sharply in a dark blue suit, with a soft expression. "Seriously though, Lucifer, it has been too long. How long has it been now?"
The other man, having just gotten his whiskey, took a sip before answering. "Come *on*. The whole all-knowledgeable thing really makes questions like that sound patronizing. You know *exactly* how long it's been."
"Seven hundred and twenty four years, eight months, two weeks and four days."
"Sounds right to me," said Lucifer, with a scowl. He downed the remainder of his drink and waved to the bartender for a refill. "Why do you want to talk now, after all this time?"
"You know why," said the man in white.
"Oh come ON!" The man in blue slammed his fist down on the bar as he said the last word. Almost cartoon-like, and in a way that would have been funny if not for his evident rage, steam seemed to rise from his ears. "We have had this conversation over and over, and I am not changing my mind. *Especially* not now."
The man in white took a deep breath before he spoke. "You have always had such a temper. Granted I created you that way, but I hoped it would be something you would overcome and be stronger because of it." Lucifer started to respond but the man in white spoke over him. "You have such potential in you, Lucifer. I created you to be the Bringer of Light, but you cast it away and took the fall, and for what? Your kingdom of nothing?"
Again, the man in blue seemed about to speak, but a commotion in the corner of the bar interrupted him. A fight had broken out between two very drunk men. They rained blows on each other until they were finally broken up by another group of patrons, and kicked out by the bartender. The scene now over, the man in blue looked back to the man in white. "I would rather have my kingdom of nothing than fall in second to the ones you really love. Those... *humans*." He spit the last work out with disgust, as if he had just swallowed a spider. "You will always love them more."
The man in white looked at him closely, and leaned in so that he could say his next words quietly. "You're right. I will. It isn't for you to agree with or to understand, but just know that I always will." He stood up from his bar stool and left enough cash on the counter to cover both of their drinks, and looked back at Lucifer. "However, that doesn't change the fact that I will *always* forgive you. I will always let you back in if you only ask. It's your choice, my son."
He patted the man in the blue on the shoulder, but Lucifer pulled away. The man in white gave him one final, somber look, and walked away. As he opened the door to leave, a bright light filled the room, but was gone as quickly as it had come.
The man in blue sat alone at the bar, and downed the rest of his drink. "Go to hell," he said under his breath, though if he was talking to the now departed man or to himself, even he did not know. | "Damn you." Satan sighed as she accepted the stool offered by the blue eyed wizard.
The old sage stroked his beard in a pondering sort of fashion.
"Damn you? I cant be damned? Im..."
Two ice cold mugs of ale slammed in front of the two visiting travelers. The bar keeper bellowed, "Two ice cold brewskies for the Magnificent Frizzbit and his guest!"
The stocky armed inn keeper eyed the wizards companion curiously. "And who might this guest be?"
The old wizards eyes lit up with delight, "Why One Tooth, can't ya see the resemblance? This is my lovely daughter Lucy!"
Lucy feverishly twisted the ends of her long black hair and hissed, "Its Satan. Not Lucy."
Frizzbit rolled his eyes as the bar keeper inched back towards the long shelves of dusty liquor bottles. "Well, I'll let you two get to it! Ive got customers to tend to. This ones on the house Frizzy."
The innkeeper flashed a troubled smile revealing, one tooth, before turning around and hastily grabbing bottles off the shelf.
"What do you want Dad. I mean...Father?" Lucy sneered.
The old wizard pulled a peeling knife out of the depths of his robes. "I swear that orange was..."
Lucy shook her head and lazily pointed at the wizards tall pointy hat.
Frizzbit clapped, "Oh yes, yes yes." The old sage flipped his hat acrobatically and resting atop his long white hair was indeed, a shiny orange. He quickly retrieved the fruit, replaced his hat and began peeling.
"I have some exciting news to tell you! Youre going to have a baby brother!"
Completely stunned, Lucy's hands fiddled threw her own robes, before finally producing a shiny red apple. Frizzbit handed over the peeling knife with the same jolly grin he always had. Lucy angrily peeled the red fruit. With each slice she found it harder and harder to fight back her tears.
To be continued
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | 'Well, if it isn't my incontinent old friend!' the Devil rasped with fiery spittle and a malicious snigger.
'Omnipotent, it's omnipotent!' squeaked the slightly nerdish, bespectacled geek nursing his blackberry tea in the corner.
'Seat taken, God of dorks?'
'Y..y.yyy'
'Good!' The turtle necked Beast sat himself down with a thump, and clapped his anti-colleague overly hard on the back.
'Why are you here Satan, why are you bothering my plane!'
'Hah, just on vacation from all of my antics in the dark beyond, thought I'd remind myself of how pathetic my roots were. Keeps a man honest!' He roared at his own attempt at humour.
God looked deflated. 'How long until you leave?'
Beelzebub grinned. 'Whatsa matter, worried people are going to find out?'
'N..n..no, it's just, I...'
'Still can't figure out how to create using dark matter? So you're stuck playing with piddly humans in the oververse?'
'They're my humans though!'
'Whatever. Who cares about crap here in slowlight central. I just found out though, you've been telling them, behind my back, that you banished me... I think maybe I'll give them a little show before I head off!'
God began to cry.
| "Damn you." Satan sighed as she accepted the stool offered by the blue eyed wizard.
The old sage stroked his beard in a pondering sort of fashion.
"Damn you? I cant be damned? Im..."
Two ice cold mugs of ale slammed in front of the two visiting travelers. The bar keeper bellowed, "Two ice cold brewskies for the Magnificent Frizzbit and his guest!"
The stocky armed inn keeper eyed the wizards companion curiously. "And who might this guest be?"
The old wizards eyes lit up with delight, "Why One Tooth, can't ya see the resemblance? This is my lovely daughter Lucy!"
Lucy feverishly twisted the ends of her long black hair and hissed, "Its Satan. Not Lucy."
Frizzbit rolled his eyes as the bar keeper inched back towards the long shelves of dusty liquor bottles. "Well, I'll let you two get to it! Ive got customers to tend to. This ones on the house Frizzy."
The innkeeper flashed a troubled smile revealing, one tooth, before turning around and hastily grabbing bottles off the shelf.
"What do you want Dad. I mean...Father?" Lucy sneered.
The old wizard pulled a peeling knife out of the depths of his robes. "I swear that orange was..."
Lucy shook her head and lazily pointed at the wizards tall pointy hat.
Frizzbit clapped, "Oh yes, yes yes." The old sage flipped his hat acrobatically and resting atop his long white hair was indeed, a shiny orange. He quickly retrieved the fruit, replaced his hat and began peeling.
"I have some exciting news to tell you! Youre going to have a baby brother!"
Completely stunned, Lucy's hands fiddled threw her own robes, before finally producing a shiny red apple. Frizzbit handed over the peeling knife with the same jolly grin he always had. Lucy angrily peeled the red fruit. With each slice she found it harder and harder to fight back her tears.
To be continued
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "As the snow flies...."
The lyrics to Elvis's song plays in the background, and I see the same lamented and harrowed faces around the bar. I always enjoy coming in at closing time. It's a time where if you are unfortunate enough to still be out and around, your moral belt has slipped to your ankles and you are ready for any penetration.
Societies scum bucket fun time hour I call it. The drunk, the desperate and the depraved. The wicked cruel intentions that fester in this environment is rife with delicious potential.
Tonight is different though. There is a man at the bar, denying he is Steve Jobs to a woman hanging off his shoulder with lustful intent. There is something about him. I feel like I've known him for eternity. I feel like embracing him - and also destroying him. I want to love and throw up intensely. There is only one being that can do that to me, and he is offering me a seat.
I'll indulge him. I sit next to him, and a cold beer slides my way. I've never understood the taste, or enjoyed it - but it's always been the lubricant to hardcore sin, so I take a swig with this in mind.
"This song, you know? It makes me sad. Thoughtful, but sad", the man speaks - in a tone that is both cheery and friendly, but also judgemental and bold.
I swallow the first golden liquid gulp down my mortal vessel's throat. It tastes like glorified cat piss, yet I can help but lick the overspill from the side of my mouth.
"Would you like me to put on some One Direction? That seems more up your alley." I sarcastically say this, with the intention of playing 'Story of my life' for him.
All I see is a grin from him. That stupid wide grin. It's the kind an actor or a salesman gives you to make you feel warm so you can trust what they say. It's such a shit eater grin.
I glance at what he is drinking.
Wine.
This. Guy. Seriously.
"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" He questions earnestly.
"Sure" I scoff. "The being that made life is entitled to ask questions".
"What's your favourite song?"
My brow furrows and I shake my head - take another swing of beer and ponder. It's a stupid question. Of all the questions that could have been asked - why this one? Is there a trick to this? Should I say something intelligent like orchestral? Or should I just say something popular?
"I don't know. Enter Sandman, Metallica".
He takes such a polite sip of his wine again, smiling that damn smile.
What drives me made is that he seems to know everything but still retain such a humble exterior - he is such a rich peasant. What hot can he find from the simple? What good can he see from the worst? It's infuriating.
I take another swig of cat piss, and spitefully splutter it as I ask the same question to him, "What's your favourite song?".
His shit grin again. He thinks - timing the right moment to simply reply ...
"Never gonna give you up - Rick Astley".
Son of a ......... | "Damn you." Satan sighed as she accepted the stool offered by the blue eyed wizard.
The old sage stroked his beard in a pondering sort of fashion.
"Damn you? I cant be damned? Im..."
Two ice cold mugs of ale slammed in front of the two visiting travelers. The bar keeper bellowed, "Two ice cold brewskies for the Magnificent Frizzbit and his guest!"
The stocky armed inn keeper eyed the wizards companion curiously. "And who might this guest be?"
The old wizards eyes lit up with delight, "Why One Tooth, can't ya see the resemblance? This is my lovely daughter Lucy!"
Lucy feverishly twisted the ends of her long black hair and hissed, "Its Satan. Not Lucy."
Frizzbit rolled his eyes as the bar keeper inched back towards the long shelves of dusty liquor bottles. "Well, I'll let you two get to it! Ive got customers to tend to. This ones on the house Frizzy."
The innkeeper flashed a troubled smile revealing, one tooth, before turning around and hastily grabbing bottles off the shelf.
"What do you want Dad. I mean...Father?" Lucy sneered.
The old wizard pulled a peeling knife out of the depths of his robes. "I swear that orange was..."
Lucy shook her head and lazily pointed at the wizards tall pointy hat.
Frizzbit clapped, "Oh yes, yes yes." The old sage flipped his hat acrobatically and resting atop his long white hair was indeed, a shiny orange. He quickly retrieved the fruit, replaced his hat and began peeling.
"I have some exciting news to tell you! Youre going to have a baby brother!"
Completely stunned, Lucy's hands fiddled threw her own robes, before finally producing a shiny red apple. Frizzbit handed over the peeling knife with the same jolly grin he always had. Lucy angrily peeled the red fruit. With each slice she found it harder and harder to fight back her tears.
To be continued
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | He smiled at me. That same smile that I remembered from the old days. Nothing but warmth thinly veiling a vast ocean of rage that could spout out at a moments notice. At least he had calmed down quite a lot since the beginning. Having a kid really mellowed him out.
I sat down. Putting my hat on the bar next to me. "So, given who you are you have known since you created...everything that we would meet here. And since I literally cannot do anything to oppose you lets get this over with yes? What do you want." I hated playing this part. This great corruption in his design, but it was required.
"I'm bored" he said with a deep sigh. One that could only come from a being that had literally seen every possible birth and death of every possible thing in all of creation. "I've made everything, I even tried turning off my omnipotence for a while but...I have nothing to do anymore. I created every star in the universe, every species and planet the cosmos will ever know."
"And?" I asked, taking a sip of my drink, he always knew exactly what I wanted to order. He knew this would happen from the moment he came into being. Knowing everything has serious drawbacks. Not the least of which was that he could always find me to hash out his depression.
"And...I want to start over. Like I did with Noah, only maybe less incest this time. Create a new cosmos, a new universe. Maybe Ill make physics more flexible or something". This thought always cheered him up.
"Remember what the council said. You leave to a new universe this one dies. You expand too far, this one dies. You would literally be killing, fuck, its got to be even higher than trillions at this point, countless lives just because you're bored. And I can't keep playing your therapist, you kicked me out, we are supposed to be enemies."
"That's only what the small minded ones think. I can't stand them anymore, I thought letting them know me would be a good idea, the blood sacrifice, and everything would be okay..."
"Liar, you knew from the beginning it never would."
He sighed again. "Yeah I suppose. But I...I cant keep going like this. I need something new. Something I could never see coming."
"Careful what you wish for." I stand up. I know we are done talking just as he does. I pay the tab. I always pay the tab.
Once upon a time these visits from him were pretty infrequent. But what else can I do. A creator level being with depression cannot just be ignored and this one was turned loose to create his own world far too early, even the council knew that now. A failed experiment, one false move from him and everything in this reality would be gone in an instant.
What can I say I felt bad for all the sentient species He had made. So I stuck around. Of course the council offered me my own space but I just couldn't bring myself to abandon this one.
I patted him on the back, and stepped outside. I stared up into the night sky. Glad that this young species had yet to invent lights.
The stars were always my favorites of his. | "Damn you." Satan sighed as she accepted the stool offered by the blue eyed wizard.
The old sage stroked his beard in a pondering sort of fashion.
"Damn you? I cant be damned? Im..."
Two ice cold mugs of ale slammed in front of the two visiting travelers. The bar keeper bellowed, "Two ice cold brewskies for the Magnificent Frizzbit and his guest!"
The stocky armed inn keeper eyed the wizards companion curiously. "And who might this guest be?"
The old wizards eyes lit up with delight, "Why One Tooth, can't ya see the resemblance? This is my lovely daughter Lucy!"
Lucy feverishly twisted the ends of her long black hair and hissed, "Its Satan. Not Lucy."
Frizzbit rolled his eyes as the bar keeper inched back towards the long shelves of dusty liquor bottles. "Well, I'll let you two get to it! Ive got customers to tend to. This ones on the house Frizzy."
The innkeeper flashed a troubled smile revealing, one tooth, before turning around and hastily grabbing bottles off the shelf.
"What do you want Dad. I mean...Father?" Lucy sneered.
The old wizard pulled a peeling knife out of the depths of his robes. "I swear that orange was..."
Lucy shook her head and lazily pointed at the wizards tall pointy hat.
Frizzbit clapped, "Oh yes, yes yes." The old sage flipped his hat acrobatically and resting atop his long white hair was indeed, a shiny orange. He quickly retrieved the fruit, replaced his hat and began peeling.
"I have some exciting news to tell you! Youre going to have a baby brother!"
Completely stunned, Lucy's hands fiddled threw her own robes, before finally producing a shiny red apple. Frizzbit handed over the peeling knife with the same jolly grin he always had. Lucy angrily peeled the red fruit. With each slice she found it harder and harder to fight back her tears.
To be continued
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | Part One (part two may follow)
Satan slides smoothly onto the bar stood, letting out a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, unbuttoning his expensive looking jacket.
“It wasn’t hard to find you. A creature of habit and all that” he said.
God glanced across and said nothing, swirling the drink in front of him.
The barman walks over and gestures to Satan “What are you having?” Satan looks down at Gods glass.
“Certainly not a beer" he pushes the bottle further down the bar. "Whatever he is having and get him another, he looks like he needs it” pointing to his right.
“Two double Glenfiddichs coming right up” the barman turns and reaches for the bottle and two glasses.
“Scottish? Nice” Satan said surprised, giving a small chuckle. “Well at least you have good taste, quite fitting given the occasion”
Two glasses arrive on the bar with a clink. “There you go gents”
Satan hands three hundred dollar bills over the bar. “Get yourself a drink my good man” he grins.
Shocked the barman takes the cash smiling “Thank you very much sir”
“Think nothing of it” the dark prince replies as the man returns down the bar.
“He won’t get time to spend it you know” he hissed into his glass. The whisky slides down his throat with ease. God gave a sigh.
“You just couldn’t leave it, you had to say something. You had to come in here and give me a hard time”
Satan turns on his chair to face him, cradling his glass.
“So you’re really going to let it happen?” Tilting and lowering his head trying to make eye contact with God.
“Yep” came the cold, empty reply.
“Wow, that’s low, really low, even for you!” Satan’s face became more animated. He took another drink before continuing.
“Out of all your creations, apparently, one of your favourites but yet you’re doing nothing, not even lift a finger?”
“Aren’t you very astute” came the sharp answer. Satan leaned back pondering the response.
“I honestly don’t get you sometimes. You have looked over them for so long only to abandon them in their greatest moment of need. Do they even know?”
God glances up at the clock. “No, not yet, but they will soon.”
Satan turns back to the bar. “You know I have become very fond of them myself, they amuse me no ends; far more than the others you’ve conjured up over the years. Very ironic don’t you think” He emphasises ‘others’ with a hiss. “How many have been lost now, hmm? Dozens? Hundreds? I haven’t been counting since it began, what about…” God’s glass hits the counter.
“Enough!” a few heads turn before they slowely return to their conversations.
“I know what you’re doing; don’t you think this is hard enough for me? Their fate was sealed a long-time ago” he glared into Satan’s dark eyes.
“Hard? It’s your stupid rule. No serious interventions, remember?”
“It can’t be broken”
“Sealed fate? By another creation they aren’t even aware of?” Satan looked dumfounded. "Hardly fair".
The lights suddenly flicker, a faint rumble like thunder sounds in the distance a few seconds later causing the bottles on the wall to jingle ever so slightly. A few patrons stop their conversation to question what it was, some move towards the door.
“Times ticking, I mean I’d do something if I could but I don’t have the privilege, that’s your honour” he taps his designer watch and gives God a smirk and finishes his drink.
“I can’t”
Satan moves in close to God, face to face. “Then don’t break the rules, bend them, throw them a chance, give them an opportunity to do something” he whispers. God looks at him, the internal struggle clear to see. Another flicker of the lights is accompanied by a far stronger rumble, a glass breaks somewhere, a bottle falls of the shelf, neither pay attention. More people get up and run out of the bar into the street as the sounds and shakes continue.
Satan sits up and fixes his jacket. “You know I was the last one I would have expected to plead their case, maybe I like them more than I think” he chuckles to himself “They have a way of doing that to you, don’t they?” He looks around the bar. “Well I best be on my way, it was nice talking to” He gives a grin as God looks at him knowing Satan has done what he does best. The lighters flicker off returning a second later. God is now sitting alone in the bar.
He knocks back the last of his Whisky savouring the taste.
“Very well”
| "Damn you." Satan sighed as she accepted the stool offered by the blue eyed wizard.
The old sage stroked his beard in a pondering sort of fashion.
"Damn you? I cant be damned? Im..."
Two ice cold mugs of ale slammed in front of the two visiting travelers. The bar keeper bellowed, "Two ice cold brewskies for the Magnificent Frizzbit and his guest!"
The stocky armed inn keeper eyed the wizards companion curiously. "And who might this guest be?"
The old wizards eyes lit up with delight, "Why One Tooth, can't ya see the resemblance? This is my lovely daughter Lucy!"
Lucy feverishly twisted the ends of her long black hair and hissed, "Its Satan. Not Lucy."
Frizzbit rolled his eyes as the bar keeper inched back towards the long shelves of dusty liquor bottles. "Well, I'll let you two get to it! Ive got customers to tend to. This ones on the house Frizzy."
The innkeeper flashed a troubled smile revealing, one tooth, before turning around and hastily grabbing bottles off the shelf.
"What do you want Dad. I mean...Father?" Lucy sneered.
The old wizard pulled a peeling knife out of the depths of his robes. "I swear that orange was..."
Lucy shook her head and lazily pointed at the wizards tall pointy hat.
Frizzbit clapped, "Oh yes, yes yes." The old sage flipped his hat acrobatically and resting atop his long white hair was indeed, a shiny orange. He quickly retrieved the fruit, replaced his hat and began peeling.
"I have some exciting news to tell you! Youre going to have a baby brother!"
Completely stunned, Lucy's hands fiddled threw her own robes, before finally producing a shiny red apple. Frizzbit handed over the peeling knife with the same jolly grin he always had. Lucy angrily peeled the red fruit. With each slice she found it harder and harder to fight back her tears.
To be continued
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Light beer" said the Creator when the bartender finally cast his attention towards the end of the bar.
"Double margarita, extra salt!" snapped the angel who was loved once, above all others.
The Almighty blew air gingerly on the head of his glass, taking a long pull once the foam had subsided. "How are things?"
"How are things? How are things? I mean really." Lucifer sucked a toothpick while considering his drink. "I've been at the DMV all day."
"One of your more inspired creations." God chuckled a little at the thought.
"Well, I'm glad my work meets with your approval. Have you put any thought into my transfer request?"
"Now Lou, we've been over this. You're doing good work down there. It's necessary."
"I don't need you to tell me it's necessary, I know it's necessary. I need a vacation. Or better yet- I want to come back. I'm tired of working down in the basement."
"I can give you some more help down there if you feel you need it?" God put his feet up on the low rail below the bar, wiggling his toes a little as he did so, seemingly delighted with the feel of his REI sandals.
"I don't need anymore help. I've got all the souls of the deceased marketing processionals. The basement is running smoothly. I fill Hell up almost as fast as I can empty it. The point is that I'm tired and.." The Accuser stopped himself, the apology having stalled out on his lips where it had formed and almost been given voice "and it's not fair." he finished weakly.
"It was your idea Lou." The Heavenly Father fished a few peanuts from the bowl along the counter, weighing them in his hand like he was trying to deduce the value of pocket change based solely upon its weight.
"That was a long time ago." The Light Bringer downed his drink in one go "and besides, you don't need me there anymore, not really. The basement almost runs itself by this point"
"We've been over this." God chewed thoughtfully, "We decided that we need someone to mind the operation down there."
"But it's been so long! I just want to come back now."
"Then who would we have to oversea your operation? Who would vet all these souls for entry into Heaven? We can't have those who are not ready gaining entry, it would cause all kinds of problems."
"Well, that guy from American Idol only has a few years left?"
God coughed from around a mouthful of beer.
"Good one Lou. Look, it's good to see you again, but we have been over this all before. Keep up the good work would you."
Satan said nothing, watching in silence as God paid for his beer, adjusted his fanny pack and then strolled out of the bar. Inwardly, he seethed. All the time and effort he had spent fostering reality television had been a long shot, but he wasn't prepared to have his hopes dashed just yet. Besides, there were other plans..there were other ways to find a soul dark enough, embittered enough and so utterly devoid of hope and joy that it would be fit to oversee the day to day operations in hell.
Perhaps it was time to check his other pet project for some likely candidates. The comment section of YouTube was bound to have something. | "Damn you." Satan sighed as she accepted the stool offered by the blue eyed wizard.
The old sage stroked his beard in a pondering sort of fashion.
"Damn you? I cant be damned? Im..."
Two ice cold mugs of ale slammed in front of the two visiting travelers. The bar keeper bellowed, "Two ice cold brewskies for the Magnificent Frizzbit and his guest!"
The stocky armed inn keeper eyed the wizards companion curiously. "And who might this guest be?"
The old wizards eyes lit up with delight, "Why One Tooth, can't ya see the resemblance? This is my lovely daughter Lucy!"
Lucy feverishly twisted the ends of her long black hair and hissed, "Its Satan. Not Lucy."
Frizzbit rolled his eyes as the bar keeper inched back towards the long shelves of dusty liquor bottles. "Well, I'll let you two get to it! Ive got customers to tend to. This ones on the house Frizzy."
The innkeeper flashed a troubled smile revealing, one tooth, before turning around and hastily grabbing bottles off the shelf.
"What do you want Dad. I mean...Father?" Lucy sneered.
The old wizard pulled a peeling knife out of the depths of his robes. "I swear that orange was..."
Lucy shook her head and lazily pointed at the wizards tall pointy hat.
Frizzbit clapped, "Oh yes, yes yes." The old sage flipped his hat acrobatically and resting atop his long white hair was indeed, a shiny orange. He quickly retrieved the fruit, replaced his hat and began peeling.
"I have some exciting news to tell you! Youre going to have a baby brother!"
Completely stunned, Lucy's hands fiddled threw her own robes, before finally producing a shiny red apple. Frizzbit handed over the peeling knife with the same jolly grin he always had. Lucy angrily peeled the red fruit. With each slice she found it harder and harder to fight back her tears.
To be continued
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | 'You knew I was coming?'
God smiled and looked up at the small TV mounted above the bar. 'I always do.'
Satan grimaced and climbed onto the stool, breathing a heavy sigh as he wrapped his fingers around the glass.
'Been a while, Lu.'
He winced. 'I told you not to call me that...'
'What're fathers for?'
'Wouldn't know. Never had one.'
God smiled sadly, but didn't turn his head. There was a news reporter on the screen, talking about ISIS. The wind tore at her coat. Sand blew in her face. But she put up with it.
'Why're you here?' Satan asked.
He shrugged. 'It's been a while since I came down. Figured I'd check on things.'
'Check on them,' the Devil sneered. 'But do nothing about it.'
Another sad smile. 'You know the rules, Lu.'
The Devil hissed through clenched teeth. '*Stop calling me that!*'
There was a hint of amusement in His smile as He raised His glass and took a sip.
Satan hunched forward in his seat and glowered at his beer. 'And of all the bars in all the world,' he muttered, tracing a finger around the rim of the glass. 'You just *had* to come to this one...'
'It's been a while since I last saw you, too. Wanted to see how you were doing.'
'Just *fine*,' Satan replied, rolling his eyes.
'Good,' God muttered. 'That's good...'
A moment of awkward silence passed. Even the barman moved further away.
'I do worry, you know,' God continued.
'Sure. Just like you do everyone else on the planet.'
'Can we not do this?' God turned now, frustration lining His face. 'Every time I come to see you, it's the same old routine. You keep trying to hash over issues that are *millennia* old! Can we not just have a beer? Just this once?'
The Devil at least had the grace to feel embarrassed. 'Sure...' he murmured. Another silence. Even more awkward than the one before. 'How's Gabe?'
'He's good. Michael too.'
'Good... That's good.'
They both took another mouthful. Satan took a second, for Gluttony's sake. Had to keep up appearances after all.
'How are things at home?' He asked.
'Crowded.'
'I'll bet.'
'It's like a production line now. I've barely got anywhere to put people.'
'I appreciate it all the same.'
Satan didn't reply. He took another sip instead. He'd never been... *appreciated* before.
'And I'm sorry for that,' God murmured. 'I know I gave you the hardest job. And there's no one to thank you for it. But *I* know how you really are.'
The Devil nodded and looked at the ceiling. *Dusty bar*, he thought. Must've got a speck in his eye.
'For what it's worth,' God continued. 'You're doing a damn fine job. I wish you didn't have to—I want you by my side again—but no one else could do it better.'
'Seeing their faces when they find out the torture and damnation was a lie sure helps make it worthwhile,' Satan said with a smirk.
God chuckled. 'I can imagine.'
'Is...' Satan hesitated for a moment. 'Will we ever be able to tell them? Gabe and the others?'
'Maybe... At the end.' God breathed a heavy sigh and took another sip, emptying the glass. He got up from the stool and clapped a hand on His first son's shoulder. 'Until then, I'm counting on you, Lu.'
The Devil nodded. God smiled. Then vanished, as if He'd never been there. Satan glanced around but, as per usual, no one had noticed anything.
He drained his own glass, then set it down with a small smile.
'Thanks, Dad.' | "Damn you." Satan sighed as she accepted the stool offered by the blue eyed wizard.
The old sage stroked his beard in a pondering sort of fashion.
"Damn you? I cant be damned? Im..."
Two ice cold mugs of ale slammed in front of the two visiting travelers. The bar keeper bellowed, "Two ice cold brewskies for the Magnificent Frizzbit and his guest!"
The stocky armed inn keeper eyed the wizards companion curiously. "And who might this guest be?"
The old wizards eyes lit up with delight, "Why One Tooth, can't ya see the resemblance? This is my lovely daughter Lucy!"
Lucy feverishly twisted the ends of her long black hair and hissed, "Its Satan. Not Lucy."
Frizzbit rolled his eyes as the bar keeper inched back towards the long shelves of dusty liquor bottles. "Well, I'll let you two get to it! Ive got customers to tend to. This ones on the house Frizzy."
The innkeeper flashed a troubled smile revealing, one tooth, before turning around and hastily grabbing bottles off the shelf.
"What do you want Dad. I mean...Father?" Lucy sneered.
The old wizard pulled a peeling knife out of the depths of his robes. "I swear that orange was..."
Lucy shook her head and lazily pointed at the wizards tall pointy hat.
Frizzbit clapped, "Oh yes, yes yes." The old sage flipped his hat acrobatically and resting atop his long white hair was indeed, a shiny orange. He quickly retrieved the fruit, replaced his hat and began peeling.
"I have some exciting news to tell you! Youre going to have a baby brother!"
Completely stunned, Lucy's hands fiddled threw her own robes, before finally producing a shiny red apple. Frizzbit handed over the peeling knife with the same jolly grin he always had. Lucy angrily peeled the red fruit. With each slice she found it harder and harder to fight back her tears.
To be continued
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | A peculiar thing happened the other day. Quite possibly the most peculiar thing to have ever happened in the history of ever. Let me explain…
It was four in the morning and I was just outside of Nevada. Some old shack of a bar fashioned from the remains of an old wooden caravan. I’d stopped for a few hours to rest my weary eyes from a hypnotic desert drive. There was only one other patron; a sweet faced, almost angelic older fellow reading at the bar. He was sipping what I assumed to be whisky, and had an unopened beer beside him. "Who in the name of God could he be waiting for out here?” I thought to myself. Just then, almost in response to my thoughts, a disheveled yet devilishly handsome young man steps through the door, and without missing a step takes a seat next to the old man.
“have we met before?” cheekily asks the handsome drifter as he takes a seat.
the old man gives him a warm smile, rises from his stool and extends his arms out on either side, waiting to receive the younger man in his embrace. begrudgingly, the young man accepts this greeting, and the two return to their stools. “such a cavalier greeting, even for you.” says the younger one. "Not sure how I feel about this look though, Old man.” the Old man slides the now open beer to the young man before responding. “would you rather have me young, attractive, and fetching for the attention of all that may gaze upon me? No, remember I come here to observe; this…” he motions toward himself. “…is observant; easily unnoticed and it doesn’t warrant attention.” The young man takes a second to look his elder up and down once more. “ You look like a desert santa clause.” the young man bursts into laughter, in uproar over his own silly joke. “Be that as it may, our chosen aesthetic is not the topic of conversation this morning.” replies the old man. “ alright then SIR, what is it you’d wish to talk about this time. My petty sins perhaps? Maybe my recent involvance in the American presidential election? Even you can’t deny this Trump guy is great.” “No, that is not wh—.” “Oh, don’t tell me it’s the same old song and dance about how much you disapprove of my time here? Look, Ive told you time and ti—.”
“Talitha is dead.” solemnly interjects the older man.
Before I continue, id like to mention that at this point, neither of the two had seemed to notice me, or if they had, didn’t bother to care that i was listening. This is important because the contents of their proceeding conversation would make anyone question…pretty much everything.
The room seemed to pause, as if the air itself had been stifled and ordered to participate in a moment of silence for this “Talitha.”
whatever cavalier attitude the young man entered with had been washed away by the old mans statement. “I’m sorry, truly. How old?” “ninety-two.” responded the old man. “ninety-two is a nice age.” says the young man." At that point it becomes a chore; living….*sigh* nothing I’m going to say will help though. Time is and will be the only way it gets better, as always. Unless you intervene…. Will you ever intervene?” “Never, endings make the beginning mean something.” answered the old man curtly. “It had been twenty four years since I last spoke to her. I told her id be waiting for her, one last comforting thought." the old man chuckled to himself. "Dammit old timer, how many times will it take before you stop getting involved with women down here? Does your omnipotence not protect you from making the same mistakes over and over again? And what about her? She, if no one else, deserved more.” The old man pauses before speaking, then smiled warmly at the young man. "Love was never your strong suit, but i don’t doubt you have some form of it somewhere in you." The young man rises from his stool, clearly upset by the old mans last statement. "I’m glad that you came, I’ll be returning home this evening. Before you go, I want to ask you if you would allow Talitha’s remembrance to remain with you?” The young man, now halfway across the room stops his stride and utters a faint “yes” before disappearing into the desert from whence he came.
“I knew you were here.” said the man, now sitting across from me. “Oh, sorry I must have dozed off, i didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your conversation by the way, hard not to listen in a place so small.” I mumbled, half asleep. “He didn’t” the old man throws his thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “Too caught up in himself I suppose. Good thing, for you that is, such knowledge you’ve been privy to this morning! Had he been aware of your presence, you’d have been enslaved for eternity!” My words caught in my throat. “A joke, Mason. You should be plenty rested by now, off to Vegas with you, don’t disappoint me by not disappointing me while you’re there!” words begin to drip from my mouth “uhh, yea, don’t disappoint, got it. Not sure how I feel right now, anything you can say to maybe relieve this existential crisis Im having?” The Old man laughs “No unfortunately, you’re smart enough to acknowledge a higher power. err— you are now that is. I ask you only one thing, the girl that my friend and I discussed, keep that a secret, yea? If you don’t, Ill smite you where you stand.” the sentence seemed to resonate in my head like a gong. I hesitated for a moment, reeling from the levity of this mornings events. “Uh, sir…God, i guess… Of all the questions I could ask, I only would like to know one thing, and that is, who was she, and why did you want your friend to have her?” God gave me the same warm smile he gave what I assume was Satan. “She was my daughter, and as for why I wanted him to have her, well, Talitha will remain a physical rememberence in the afterlife, a statue of a young girl in this case. I can’t bear to see that for eternity, but I think that he could, and although he might not admit it, Id say he would rather enjoy it." God looked around the small weathered tavern with a satisfied look upon his face and took a final sip from his glass. "But alas, i must be off, been here a good hundred years of so, getting kind of homesick to be honest. Good morning Mason, use HANGOVER HEAVEN for all of your morning after needs and good luck with your sins."
I awoke again, this time in what I’m assuming was my hotel room in Vegas, short on the details of last night, and suffering a headache from what seemed like hell itself. My hotel room was clean, immaculate even, as if I had arrived already asleep. The only thing that seemed out of place was a metal dish on the floor with a single card resting in the middle of it. It read…
HANGOVER HEAVEN
headache from hell?
come experience a resurrection of relaxation
702-555-1122
p.s. don’t get smitten | The door opened. The chilly draft that followed lifted a young woman's hair, and made her shiver. The figure who had opened it produced a markedly greater reaction, and the girl turned from him, the hairs on the back of her neck raised, and rapidly made to the bathroom.
He watched her go, one corner of his mouth curling up in amusement that did not reach his eyes - eyes that she had not been able to meet. Stepping forwards to let the door swing shut, he moved to the bar, his strides measured and slow. He walked as though he had all the time in the world. He did. People moved out of his way, unconsciously displaced, as though it was the natural order of things. It was.
The bar stool made a soft scrape as he drew it back, then lifted himself onto it. He rested his forearms on the bar and nodded to himself gently once, as though resolving himself to something. And then he turned his head to the person sat next to him.
"Been a while."
His Voice had a rumble to it, something *more* than the mellow baritone that it was spoken in, and everyone in the pub began to talk and laugh after the lull during which he'd spoken in.
God smiled, and passed Satan a beer.
"So it has."
The Lord of Hell took the glass, the condensation on it evaporating in little wisps where his fingers touched it, and took a long, slow draught. He put it down with a sigh, and wiped away his foam moustache.
He nodded again to himself, this one slow, pensive. Then he smiled. And for the first time in a very long time, the smile reached his eyes. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Luuuucy, look at you, you haven't changed a bit!" The man who spoke was jovial, and wore a basic white polo shirt over khaki pants. His face was old, but there was something indefinably youthful about his eyes.
"You know I hate that nickname. That joke has never been funny," said the man who was now pulling up a chair next to him at the bar. He waved down the bartender and asked for a whiskey, neat.
"You have to lighten up, my friend. It was just a joke!" The older man took a sip of his drink and put it down on the bar. He looked over at the other man, who was dressed sharply in a dark blue suit, with a soft expression. "Seriously though, Lucifer, it has been too long. How long has it been now?"
The other man, having just gotten his whiskey, took a sip before answering. "Come *on*. The whole all-knowledgeable thing really makes questions like that sound patronizing. You know *exactly* how long it's been."
"Seven hundred and twenty four years, eight months, two weeks and four days."
"Sounds right to me," said Lucifer, with a scowl. He downed the remainder of his drink and waved to the bartender for a refill. "Why do you want to talk now, after all this time?"
"You know why," said the man in white.
"Oh come ON!" The man in blue slammed his fist down on the bar as he said the last word. Almost cartoon-like, and in a way that would have been funny if not for his evident rage, steam seemed to rise from his ears. "We have had this conversation over and over, and I am not changing my mind. *Especially* not now."
The man in white took a deep breath before he spoke. "You have always had such a temper. Granted I created you that way, but I hoped it would be something you would overcome and be stronger because of it." Lucifer started to respond but the man in white spoke over him. "You have such potential in you, Lucifer. I created you to be the Bringer of Light, but you cast it away and took the fall, and for what? Your kingdom of nothing?"
Again, the man in blue seemed about to speak, but a commotion in the corner of the bar interrupted him. A fight had broken out between two very drunk men. They rained blows on each other until they were finally broken up by another group of patrons, and kicked out by the bartender. The scene now over, the man in blue looked back to the man in white. "I would rather have my kingdom of nothing than fall in second to the ones you really love. Those... *humans*." He spit the last work out with disgust, as if he had just swallowed a spider. "You will always love them more."
The man in white looked at him closely, and leaned in so that he could say his next words quietly. "You're right. I will. It isn't for you to agree with or to understand, but just know that I always will." He stood up from his bar stool and left enough cash on the counter to cover both of their drinks, and looked back at Lucifer. "However, that doesn't change the fact that I will *always* forgive you. I will always let you back in if you only ask. It's your choice, my son."
He patted the man in the blue on the shoulder, but Lucifer pulled away. The man in white gave him one final, somber look, and walked away. As he opened the door to leave, a bright light filled the room, but was gone as quickly as it had come.
The man in blue sat alone at the bar, and downed the rest of his drink. "Go to hell," he said under his breath, though if he was talking to the now departed man or to himself, even he did not know. | The door opened. The chilly draft that followed lifted a young woman's hair, and made her shiver. The figure who had opened it produced a markedly greater reaction, and the girl turned from him, the hairs on the back of her neck raised, and rapidly made to the bathroom.
He watched her go, one corner of his mouth curling up in amusement that did not reach his eyes - eyes that she had not been able to meet. Stepping forwards to let the door swing shut, he moved to the bar, his strides measured and slow. He walked as though he had all the time in the world. He did. People moved out of his way, unconsciously displaced, as though it was the natural order of things. It was.
The bar stool made a soft scrape as he drew it back, then lifted himself onto it. He rested his forearms on the bar and nodded to himself gently once, as though resolving himself to something. And then he turned his head to the person sat next to him.
"Been a while."
His Voice had a rumble to it, something *more* than the mellow baritone that it was spoken in, and everyone in the pub began to talk and laugh after the lull during which he'd spoken in.
God smiled, and passed Satan a beer.
"So it has."
The Lord of Hell took the glass, the condensation on it evaporating in little wisps where his fingers touched it, and took a long, slow draught. He put it down with a sigh, and wiped away his foam moustache.
He nodded again to himself, this one slow, pensive. Then he smiled. And for the first time in a very long time, the smile reached his eyes. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "As the snow flies...."
The lyrics to Elvis's song plays in the background, and I see the same lamented and harrowed faces around the bar. I always enjoy coming in at closing time. It's a time where if you are unfortunate enough to still be out and around, your moral belt has slipped to your ankles and you are ready for any penetration.
Societies scum bucket fun time hour I call it. The drunk, the desperate and the depraved. The wicked cruel intentions that fester in this environment is rife with delicious potential.
Tonight is different though. There is a man at the bar, denying he is Steve Jobs to a woman hanging off his shoulder with lustful intent. There is something about him. I feel like I've known him for eternity. I feel like embracing him - and also destroying him. I want to love and throw up intensely. There is only one being that can do that to me, and he is offering me a seat.
I'll indulge him. I sit next to him, and a cold beer slides my way. I've never understood the taste, or enjoyed it - but it's always been the lubricant to hardcore sin, so I take a swig with this in mind.
"This song, you know? It makes me sad. Thoughtful, but sad", the man speaks - in a tone that is both cheery and friendly, but also judgemental and bold.
I swallow the first golden liquid gulp down my mortal vessel's throat. It tastes like glorified cat piss, yet I can help but lick the overspill from the side of my mouth.
"Would you like me to put on some One Direction? That seems more up your alley." I sarcastically say this, with the intention of playing 'Story of my life' for him.
All I see is a grin from him. That stupid wide grin. It's the kind an actor or a salesman gives you to make you feel warm so you can trust what they say. It's such a shit eater grin.
I glance at what he is drinking.
Wine.
This. Guy. Seriously.
"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" He questions earnestly.
"Sure" I scoff. "The being that made life is entitled to ask questions".
"What's your favourite song?"
My brow furrows and I shake my head - take another swing of beer and ponder. It's a stupid question. Of all the questions that could have been asked - why this one? Is there a trick to this? Should I say something intelligent like orchestral? Or should I just say something popular?
"I don't know. Enter Sandman, Metallica".
He takes such a polite sip of his wine again, smiling that damn smile.
What drives me made is that he seems to know everything but still retain such a humble exterior - he is such a rich peasant. What hot can he find from the simple? What good can he see from the worst? It's infuriating.
I take another swig of cat piss, and spitefully splutter it as I ask the same question to him, "What's your favourite song?".
His shit grin again. He thinks - timing the right moment to simply reply ...
"Never gonna give you up - Rick Astley".
Son of a ......... | The door opened. The chilly draft that followed lifted a young woman's hair, and made her shiver. The figure who had opened it produced a markedly greater reaction, and the girl turned from him, the hairs on the back of her neck raised, and rapidly made to the bathroom.
He watched her go, one corner of his mouth curling up in amusement that did not reach his eyes - eyes that she had not been able to meet. Stepping forwards to let the door swing shut, he moved to the bar, his strides measured and slow. He walked as though he had all the time in the world. He did. People moved out of his way, unconsciously displaced, as though it was the natural order of things. It was.
The bar stool made a soft scrape as he drew it back, then lifted himself onto it. He rested his forearms on the bar and nodded to himself gently once, as though resolving himself to something. And then he turned his head to the person sat next to him.
"Been a while."
His Voice had a rumble to it, something *more* than the mellow baritone that it was spoken in, and everyone in the pub began to talk and laugh after the lull during which he'd spoken in.
God smiled, and passed Satan a beer.
"So it has."
The Lord of Hell took the glass, the condensation on it evaporating in little wisps where his fingers touched it, and took a long, slow draught. He put it down with a sigh, and wiped away his foam moustache.
He nodded again to himself, this one slow, pensive. Then he smiled. And for the first time in a very long time, the smile reached his eyes. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | Part One (part two may follow)
Satan slides smoothly onto the bar stood, letting out a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, unbuttoning his expensive looking jacket.
“It wasn’t hard to find you. A creature of habit and all that” he said.
God glanced across and said nothing, swirling the drink in front of him.
The barman walks over and gestures to Satan “What are you having?” Satan looks down at Gods glass.
“Certainly not a beer" he pushes the bottle further down the bar. "Whatever he is having and get him another, he looks like he needs it” pointing to his right.
“Two double Glenfiddichs coming right up” the barman turns and reaches for the bottle and two glasses.
“Scottish? Nice” Satan said surprised, giving a small chuckle. “Well at least you have good taste, quite fitting given the occasion”
Two glasses arrive on the bar with a clink. “There you go gents”
Satan hands three hundred dollar bills over the bar. “Get yourself a drink my good man” he grins.
Shocked the barman takes the cash smiling “Thank you very much sir”
“Think nothing of it” the dark prince replies as the man returns down the bar.
“He won’t get time to spend it you know” he hissed into his glass. The whisky slides down his throat with ease. God gave a sigh.
“You just couldn’t leave it, you had to say something. You had to come in here and give me a hard time”
Satan turns on his chair to face him, cradling his glass.
“So you’re really going to let it happen?” Tilting and lowering his head trying to make eye contact with God.
“Yep” came the cold, empty reply.
“Wow, that’s low, really low, even for you!” Satan’s face became more animated. He took another drink before continuing.
“Out of all your creations, apparently, one of your favourites but yet you’re doing nothing, not even lift a finger?”
“Aren’t you very astute” came the sharp answer. Satan leaned back pondering the response.
“I honestly don’t get you sometimes. You have looked over them for so long only to abandon them in their greatest moment of need. Do they even know?”
God glances up at the clock. “No, not yet, but they will soon.”
Satan turns back to the bar. “You know I have become very fond of them myself, they amuse me no ends; far more than the others you’ve conjured up over the years. Very ironic don’t you think” He emphasises ‘others’ with a hiss. “How many have been lost now, hmm? Dozens? Hundreds? I haven’t been counting since it began, what about…” God’s glass hits the counter.
“Enough!” a few heads turn before they slowely return to their conversations.
“I know what you’re doing; don’t you think this is hard enough for me? Their fate was sealed a long-time ago” he glared into Satan’s dark eyes.
“Hard? It’s your stupid rule. No serious interventions, remember?”
“It can’t be broken”
“Sealed fate? By another creation they aren’t even aware of?” Satan looked dumfounded. "Hardly fair".
The lights suddenly flicker, a faint rumble like thunder sounds in the distance a few seconds later causing the bottles on the wall to jingle ever so slightly. A few patrons stop their conversation to question what it was, some move towards the door.
“Times ticking, I mean I’d do something if I could but I don’t have the privilege, that’s your honour” he taps his designer watch and gives God a smirk and finishes his drink.
“I can’t”
Satan moves in close to God, face to face. “Then don’t break the rules, bend them, throw them a chance, give them an opportunity to do something” he whispers. God looks at him, the internal struggle clear to see. Another flicker of the lights is accompanied by a far stronger rumble, a glass breaks somewhere, a bottle falls of the shelf, neither pay attention. More people get up and run out of the bar into the street as the sounds and shakes continue.
Satan sits up and fixes his jacket. “You know I was the last one I would have expected to plead their case, maybe I like them more than I think” he chuckles to himself “They have a way of doing that to you, don’t they?” He looks around the bar. “Well I best be on my way, it was nice talking to” He gives a grin as God looks at him knowing Satan has done what he does best. The lighters flicker off returning a second later. God is now sitting alone in the bar.
He knocks back the last of his Whisky savouring the taste.
“Very well”
| The door opened. The chilly draft that followed lifted a young woman's hair, and made her shiver. The figure who had opened it produced a markedly greater reaction, and the girl turned from him, the hairs on the back of her neck raised, and rapidly made to the bathroom.
He watched her go, one corner of his mouth curling up in amusement that did not reach his eyes - eyes that she had not been able to meet. Stepping forwards to let the door swing shut, he moved to the bar, his strides measured and slow. He walked as though he had all the time in the world. He did. People moved out of his way, unconsciously displaced, as though it was the natural order of things. It was.
The bar stool made a soft scrape as he drew it back, then lifted himself onto it. He rested his forearms on the bar and nodded to himself gently once, as though resolving himself to something. And then he turned his head to the person sat next to him.
"Been a while."
His Voice had a rumble to it, something *more* than the mellow baritone that it was spoken in, and everyone in the pub began to talk and laugh after the lull during which he'd spoken in.
God smiled, and passed Satan a beer.
"So it has."
The Lord of Hell took the glass, the condensation on it evaporating in little wisps where his fingers touched it, and took a long, slow draught. He put it down with a sigh, and wiped away his foam moustache.
He nodded again to himself, this one slow, pensive. Then he smiled. And for the first time in a very long time, the smile reached his eyes. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Light beer" said the Creator when the bartender finally cast his attention towards the end of the bar.
"Double margarita, extra salt!" snapped the angel who was loved once, above all others.
The Almighty blew air gingerly on the head of his glass, taking a long pull once the foam had subsided. "How are things?"
"How are things? How are things? I mean really." Lucifer sucked a toothpick while considering his drink. "I've been at the DMV all day."
"One of your more inspired creations." God chuckled a little at the thought.
"Well, I'm glad my work meets with your approval. Have you put any thought into my transfer request?"
"Now Lou, we've been over this. You're doing good work down there. It's necessary."
"I don't need you to tell me it's necessary, I know it's necessary. I need a vacation. Or better yet- I want to come back. I'm tired of working down in the basement."
"I can give you some more help down there if you feel you need it?" God put his feet up on the low rail below the bar, wiggling his toes a little as he did so, seemingly delighted with the feel of his REI sandals.
"I don't need anymore help. I've got all the souls of the deceased marketing processionals. The basement is running smoothly. I fill Hell up almost as fast as I can empty it. The point is that I'm tired and.." The Accuser stopped himself, the apology having stalled out on his lips where it had formed and almost been given voice "and it's not fair." he finished weakly.
"It was your idea Lou." The Heavenly Father fished a few peanuts from the bowl along the counter, weighing them in his hand like he was trying to deduce the value of pocket change based solely upon its weight.
"That was a long time ago." The Light Bringer downed his drink in one go "and besides, you don't need me there anymore, not really. The basement almost runs itself by this point"
"We've been over this." God chewed thoughtfully, "We decided that we need someone to mind the operation down there."
"But it's been so long! I just want to come back now."
"Then who would we have to oversea your operation? Who would vet all these souls for entry into Heaven? We can't have those who are not ready gaining entry, it would cause all kinds of problems."
"Well, that guy from American Idol only has a few years left?"
God coughed from around a mouthful of beer.
"Good one Lou. Look, it's good to see you again, but we have been over this all before. Keep up the good work would you."
Satan said nothing, watching in silence as God paid for his beer, adjusted his fanny pack and then strolled out of the bar. Inwardly, he seethed. All the time and effort he had spent fostering reality television had been a long shot, but he wasn't prepared to have his hopes dashed just yet. Besides, there were other plans..there were other ways to find a soul dark enough, embittered enough and so utterly devoid of hope and joy that it would be fit to oversee the day to day operations in hell.
Perhaps it was time to check his other pet project for some likely candidates. The comment section of YouTube was bound to have something. | The door opened. The chilly draft that followed lifted a young woman's hair, and made her shiver. The figure who had opened it produced a markedly greater reaction, and the girl turned from him, the hairs on the back of her neck raised, and rapidly made to the bathroom.
He watched her go, one corner of his mouth curling up in amusement that did not reach his eyes - eyes that she had not been able to meet. Stepping forwards to let the door swing shut, he moved to the bar, his strides measured and slow. He walked as though he had all the time in the world. He did. People moved out of his way, unconsciously displaced, as though it was the natural order of things. It was.
The bar stool made a soft scrape as he drew it back, then lifted himself onto it. He rested his forearms on the bar and nodded to himself gently once, as though resolving himself to something. And then he turned his head to the person sat next to him.
"Been a while."
His Voice had a rumble to it, something *more* than the mellow baritone that it was spoken in, and everyone in the pub began to talk and laugh after the lull during which he'd spoken in.
God smiled, and passed Satan a beer.
"So it has."
The Lord of Hell took the glass, the condensation on it evaporating in little wisps where his fingers touched it, and took a long, slow draught. He put it down with a sigh, and wiped away his foam moustache.
He nodded again to himself, this one slow, pensive. Then he smiled. And for the first time in a very long time, the smile reached his eyes. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | A peculiar thing happened the other day. Quite possibly the most peculiar thing to have ever happened in the history of ever. Let me explain…
It was four in the morning and I was just outside of Nevada. Some old shack of a bar fashioned from the remains of an old wooden caravan. I’d stopped for a few hours to rest my weary eyes from a hypnotic desert drive. There was only one other patron; a sweet faced, almost angelic older fellow reading at the bar. He was sipping what I assumed to be whisky, and had an unopened beer beside him. "Who in the name of God could he be waiting for out here?” I thought to myself. Just then, almost in response to my thoughts, a disheveled yet devilishly handsome young man steps through the door, and without missing a step takes a seat next to the old man.
“have we met before?” cheekily asks the handsome drifter as he takes a seat.
the old man gives him a warm smile, rises from his stool and extends his arms out on either side, waiting to receive the younger man in his embrace. begrudgingly, the young man accepts this greeting, and the two return to their stools. “such a cavalier greeting, even for you.” says the younger one. "Not sure how I feel about this look though, Old man.” the Old man slides the now open beer to the young man before responding. “would you rather have me young, attractive, and fetching for the attention of all that may gaze upon me? No, remember I come here to observe; this…” he motions toward himself. “…is observant; easily unnoticed and it doesn’t warrant attention.” The young man takes a second to look his elder up and down once more. “ You look like a desert santa clause.” the young man bursts into laughter, in uproar over his own silly joke. “Be that as it may, our chosen aesthetic is not the topic of conversation this morning.” replies the old man. “ alright then SIR, what is it you’d wish to talk about this time. My petty sins perhaps? Maybe my recent involvance in the American presidential election? Even you can’t deny this Trump guy is great.” “No, that is not wh—.” “Oh, don’t tell me it’s the same old song and dance about how much you disapprove of my time here? Look, Ive told you time and ti—.”
“Talitha is dead.” solemnly interjects the older man.
Before I continue, id like to mention that at this point, neither of the two had seemed to notice me, or if they had, didn’t bother to care that i was listening. This is important because the contents of their proceeding conversation would make anyone question…pretty much everything.
The room seemed to pause, as if the air itself had been stifled and ordered to participate in a moment of silence for this “Talitha.”
whatever cavalier attitude the young man entered with had been washed away by the old mans statement. “I’m sorry, truly. How old?” “ninety-two.” responded the old man. “ninety-two is a nice age.” says the young man." At that point it becomes a chore; living….*sigh* nothing I’m going to say will help though. Time is and will be the only way it gets better, as always. Unless you intervene…. Will you ever intervene?” “Never, endings make the beginning mean something.” answered the old man curtly. “It had been twenty four years since I last spoke to her. I told her id be waiting for her, one last comforting thought." the old man chuckled to himself. "Dammit old timer, how many times will it take before you stop getting involved with women down here? Does your omnipotence not protect you from making the same mistakes over and over again? And what about her? She, if no one else, deserved more.” The old man pauses before speaking, then smiled warmly at the young man. "Love was never your strong suit, but i don’t doubt you have some form of it somewhere in you." The young man rises from his stool, clearly upset by the old mans last statement. "I’m glad that you came, I’ll be returning home this evening. Before you go, I want to ask you if you would allow Talitha’s remembrance to remain with you?” The young man, now halfway across the room stops his stride and utters a faint “yes” before disappearing into the desert from whence he came.
“I knew you were here.” said the man, now sitting across from me. “Oh, sorry I must have dozed off, i didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your conversation by the way, hard not to listen in a place so small.” I mumbled, half asleep. “He didn’t” the old man throws his thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “Too caught up in himself I suppose. Good thing, for you that is, such knowledge you’ve been privy to this morning! Had he been aware of your presence, you’d have been enslaved for eternity!” My words caught in my throat. “A joke, Mason. You should be plenty rested by now, off to Vegas with you, don’t disappoint me by not disappointing me while you’re there!” words begin to drip from my mouth “uhh, yea, don’t disappoint, got it. Not sure how I feel right now, anything you can say to maybe relieve this existential crisis Im having?” The Old man laughs “No unfortunately, you’re smart enough to acknowledge a higher power. err— you are now that is. I ask you only one thing, the girl that my friend and I discussed, keep that a secret, yea? If you don’t, Ill smite you where you stand.” the sentence seemed to resonate in my head like a gong. I hesitated for a moment, reeling from the levity of this mornings events. “Uh, sir…God, i guess… Of all the questions I could ask, I only would like to know one thing, and that is, who was she, and why did you want your friend to have her?” God gave me the same warm smile he gave what I assume was Satan. “She was my daughter, and as for why I wanted him to have her, well, Talitha will remain a physical rememberence in the afterlife, a statue of a young girl in this case. I can’t bear to see that for eternity, but I think that he could, and although he might not admit it, Id say he would rather enjoy it." God looked around the small weathered tavern with a satisfied look upon his face and took a final sip from his glass. "But alas, i must be off, been here a good hundred years of so, getting kind of homesick to be honest. Good morning Mason, use HANGOVER HEAVEN for all of your morning after needs and good luck with your sins."
I awoke again, this time in what I’m assuming was my hotel room in Vegas, short on the details of last night, and suffering a headache from what seemed like hell itself. My hotel room was clean, immaculate even, as if I had arrived already asleep. The only thing that seemed out of place was a metal dish on the floor with a single card resting in the middle of it. It read…
HANGOVER HEAVEN
headache from hell?
come experience a resurrection of relaxation
702-555-1122
p.s. don’t get smitten | "Still trying to corrupt all those pieces of me, huh?" G says.
Clovenhoof looks over at him over his beer and nods quietly, "yeah, im still on it..."
"You know in the End, Im gonna have to put the hammer down and collect back all those pieces don't you? Youre just delaying the inevitable...", G nods back and takes a long swig.
"Yeah, but what else do I got to do?", Cloven says, "you got me on lock down from Elysia, and I cannot see the Crystal Halls again...so all I got to hold on to are these little pieces of divinity that I stack up and pretend they mean something..."
G swallows the draught and regards them both in the mirror in front of him. His form is average, white haired, long faced, soft featured, intensely green eyes, the soft stubble of a well kempt beard. While Cloven is tall and broad shouldered, long dark hair spilling over them, face chiseled in stone, with angular features, hard cut cheeks and nose, and eyes so dark they almost draw in the light...but not quite...arrogance personified, G thought, as usual.
He sighed, and tilted his head to the side conspiratorially.
"You know...there are other worlds than this. The Halls of Eternity stretch wide, and the Heavenwrought are seeded all throughout the stars. Why don't you go visit them, taste of their pleasures, enjoy their arts...Im sure theyd be happy to see a Primary Angel in their midst again. It's been so long they probably think they've been forgotten."
Cloven leaned back a little, and regarded them both in the reflection as well. He shrugged his shoulders slightly and looked as if he wanted to say something grand, but only sighed and said,
"It's not the same."
"Why?", G asked.
"Because...", Cloven said, considering, "they don't have the Free Will that these humans have, these clouds of dirt who carry the Breathe, these creatures capable of sharing in Creation and doing, or undoing, all that it pleases them to do...The 'Wrought...they are almost like automatons, doing the work of their masters, of their creators, without a care towards their own end."
"Well, that might have have something to do with their being Immortal.", G said, taking another swig of the heavenly brown ale.
"Exactly!", Cloven said, hitting the nail on the head, "Without Death they have no value to the experiences of life, it's all a droning drama to them that never ends."
He almost spit out the last words, as if an anathema to him.
"Well, who's fault is that?", G said, "The humans were supposed to be the same, immortals, like us, but you had to go and tempt them with all that extraneous knowledge that you wave around so much, and in the process you gave them temporal knowledge of time, and existence, and burned out their ability to sustain their light...you'd rather they bury it in useless knowledge that gains them little to nothing while costing them everything...Their mortality is your doing, not mine. I planned the thing perfect, and then you came along and thought you could improve upon it. So please, spare me, your artificial 'misery'. you reap what you sow, boy, and you sowed yours long ago."
cloven considered this, behind smouldering eyes, and a thirsty throat. But the beer had lost all interest to him. All he could think about was the mess he'd made of things. And the fools among the humans who thought it was a good thing to be Lost from Paradise, and confined to one teeny world because it might mean they were wiser. they knew not even what they could've had, so thing what they did have was the be all, end all...but Cloven knew the vastness of what all they missed. And he missed it too.
He looked up and motioned for the bartender to bring his check. But G reached over and placed his small hand over Cloven's larger one and dismissed the barkeep with a nod.
"No, my old Glimmer, this one is on me."
Cloven regarded him a moment and pushed away from the beer, and the bar, and his Maker, and stood up, and turned to strut for the door, when the wily old man said one more thing.
"There's still time, time to forsake all this, and find another celestial shore..." He let the last words trail out, and in their syllables were hidden swirling worlds of bejeweled planets circled by strange moons, and full of wondrous creatures..."
the visages almost overwhelmed Cloven, and he put out one hand to steady himself on a bar stool nearby, before regaining his head.
"No, not, I cant, it's not..." he mumbled furiously, his voice gaining steam.
and then the images stopped, and the dim, rough, wooden interior of the bar was all that filled his sight again, and his anger faded, knowing how wasted it would be.
He headed for the door, not even bothering to look back when he heard G say.
"I know, I know you to the core...so I guess I'll be seeing you soon."
- | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Luuuucy, look at you, you haven't changed a bit!" The man who spoke was jovial, and wore a basic white polo shirt over khaki pants. His face was old, but there was something indefinably youthful about his eyes.
"You know I hate that nickname. That joke has never been funny," said the man who was now pulling up a chair next to him at the bar. He waved down the bartender and asked for a whiskey, neat.
"You have to lighten up, my friend. It was just a joke!" The older man took a sip of his drink and put it down on the bar. He looked over at the other man, who was dressed sharply in a dark blue suit, with a soft expression. "Seriously though, Lucifer, it has been too long. How long has it been now?"
The other man, having just gotten his whiskey, took a sip before answering. "Come *on*. The whole all-knowledgeable thing really makes questions like that sound patronizing. You know *exactly* how long it's been."
"Seven hundred and twenty four years, eight months, two weeks and four days."
"Sounds right to me," said Lucifer, with a scowl. He downed the remainder of his drink and waved to the bartender for a refill. "Why do you want to talk now, after all this time?"
"You know why," said the man in white.
"Oh come ON!" The man in blue slammed his fist down on the bar as he said the last word. Almost cartoon-like, and in a way that would have been funny if not for his evident rage, steam seemed to rise from his ears. "We have had this conversation over and over, and I am not changing my mind. *Especially* not now."
The man in white took a deep breath before he spoke. "You have always had such a temper. Granted I created you that way, but I hoped it would be something you would overcome and be stronger because of it." Lucifer started to respond but the man in white spoke over him. "You have such potential in you, Lucifer. I created you to be the Bringer of Light, but you cast it away and took the fall, and for what? Your kingdom of nothing?"
Again, the man in blue seemed about to speak, but a commotion in the corner of the bar interrupted him. A fight had broken out between two very drunk men. They rained blows on each other until they were finally broken up by another group of patrons, and kicked out by the bartender. The scene now over, the man in blue looked back to the man in white. "I would rather have my kingdom of nothing than fall in second to the ones you really love. Those... *humans*." He spit the last work out with disgust, as if he had just swallowed a spider. "You will always love them more."
The man in white looked at him closely, and leaned in so that he could say his next words quietly. "You're right. I will. It isn't for you to agree with or to understand, but just know that I always will." He stood up from his bar stool and left enough cash on the counter to cover both of their drinks, and looked back at Lucifer. "However, that doesn't change the fact that I will *always* forgive you. I will always let you back in if you only ask. It's your choice, my son."
He patted the man in the blue on the shoulder, but Lucifer pulled away. The man in white gave him one final, somber look, and walked away. As he opened the door to leave, a bright light filled the room, but was gone as quickly as it had come.
The man in blue sat alone at the bar, and downed the rest of his drink. "Go to hell," he said under his breath, though if he was talking to the now departed man or to himself, even he did not know. | "Still trying to corrupt all those pieces of me, huh?" G says.
Clovenhoof looks over at him over his beer and nods quietly, "yeah, im still on it..."
"You know in the End, Im gonna have to put the hammer down and collect back all those pieces don't you? Youre just delaying the inevitable...", G nods back and takes a long swig.
"Yeah, but what else do I got to do?", Cloven says, "you got me on lock down from Elysia, and I cannot see the Crystal Halls again...so all I got to hold on to are these little pieces of divinity that I stack up and pretend they mean something..."
G swallows the draught and regards them both in the mirror in front of him. His form is average, white haired, long faced, soft featured, intensely green eyes, the soft stubble of a well kempt beard. While Cloven is tall and broad shouldered, long dark hair spilling over them, face chiseled in stone, with angular features, hard cut cheeks and nose, and eyes so dark they almost draw in the light...but not quite...arrogance personified, G thought, as usual.
He sighed, and tilted his head to the side conspiratorially.
"You know...there are other worlds than this. The Halls of Eternity stretch wide, and the Heavenwrought are seeded all throughout the stars. Why don't you go visit them, taste of their pleasures, enjoy their arts...Im sure theyd be happy to see a Primary Angel in their midst again. It's been so long they probably think they've been forgotten."
Cloven leaned back a little, and regarded them both in the reflection as well. He shrugged his shoulders slightly and looked as if he wanted to say something grand, but only sighed and said,
"It's not the same."
"Why?", G asked.
"Because...", Cloven said, considering, "they don't have the Free Will that these humans have, these clouds of dirt who carry the Breathe, these creatures capable of sharing in Creation and doing, or undoing, all that it pleases them to do...The 'Wrought...they are almost like automatons, doing the work of their masters, of their creators, without a care towards their own end."
"Well, that might have have something to do with their being Immortal.", G said, taking another swig of the heavenly brown ale.
"Exactly!", Cloven said, hitting the nail on the head, "Without Death they have no value to the experiences of life, it's all a droning drama to them that never ends."
He almost spit out the last words, as if an anathema to him.
"Well, who's fault is that?", G said, "The humans were supposed to be the same, immortals, like us, but you had to go and tempt them with all that extraneous knowledge that you wave around so much, and in the process you gave them temporal knowledge of time, and existence, and burned out their ability to sustain their light...you'd rather they bury it in useless knowledge that gains them little to nothing while costing them everything...Their mortality is your doing, not mine. I planned the thing perfect, and then you came along and thought you could improve upon it. So please, spare me, your artificial 'misery'. you reap what you sow, boy, and you sowed yours long ago."
cloven considered this, behind smouldering eyes, and a thirsty throat. But the beer had lost all interest to him. All he could think about was the mess he'd made of things. And the fools among the humans who thought it was a good thing to be Lost from Paradise, and confined to one teeny world because it might mean they were wiser. they knew not even what they could've had, so thing what they did have was the be all, end all...but Cloven knew the vastness of what all they missed. And he missed it too.
He looked up and motioned for the bartender to bring his check. But G reached over and placed his small hand over Cloven's larger one and dismissed the barkeep with a nod.
"No, my old Glimmer, this one is on me."
Cloven regarded him a moment and pushed away from the beer, and the bar, and his Maker, and stood up, and turned to strut for the door, when the wily old man said one more thing.
"There's still time, time to forsake all this, and find another celestial shore..." He let the last words trail out, and in their syllables were hidden swirling worlds of bejeweled planets circled by strange moons, and full of wondrous creatures..."
the visages almost overwhelmed Cloven, and he put out one hand to steady himself on a bar stool nearby, before regaining his head.
"No, not, I cant, it's not..." he mumbled furiously, his voice gaining steam.
and then the images stopped, and the dim, rough, wooden interior of the bar was all that filled his sight again, and his anger faded, knowing how wasted it would be.
He headed for the door, not even bothering to look back when he heard G say.
"I know, I know you to the core...so I guess I'll be seeing you soon."
- | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "As the snow flies...."
The lyrics to Elvis's song plays in the background, and I see the same lamented and harrowed faces around the bar. I always enjoy coming in at closing time. It's a time where if you are unfortunate enough to still be out and around, your moral belt has slipped to your ankles and you are ready for any penetration.
Societies scum bucket fun time hour I call it. The drunk, the desperate and the depraved. The wicked cruel intentions that fester in this environment is rife with delicious potential.
Tonight is different though. There is a man at the bar, denying he is Steve Jobs to a woman hanging off his shoulder with lustful intent. There is something about him. I feel like I've known him for eternity. I feel like embracing him - and also destroying him. I want to love and throw up intensely. There is only one being that can do that to me, and he is offering me a seat.
I'll indulge him. I sit next to him, and a cold beer slides my way. I've never understood the taste, or enjoyed it - but it's always been the lubricant to hardcore sin, so I take a swig with this in mind.
"This song, you know? It makes me sad. Thoughtful, but sad", the man speaks - in a tone that is both cheery and friendly, but also judgemental and bold.
I swallow the first golden liquid gulp down my mortal vessel's throat. It tastes like glorified cat piss, yet I can help but lick the overspill from the side of my mouth.
"Would you like me to put on some One Direction? That seems more up your alley." I sarcastically say this, with the intention of playing 'Story of my life' for him.
All I see is a grin from him. That stupid wide grin. It's the kind an actor or a salesman gives you to make you feel warm so you can trust what they say. It's such a shit eater grin.
I glance at what he is drinking.
Wine.
This. Guy. Seriously.
"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" He questions earnestly.
"Sure" I scoff. "The being that made life is entitled to ask questions".
"What's your favourite song?"
My brow furrows and I shake my head - take another swing of beer and ponder. It's a stupid question. Of all the questions that could have been asked - why this one? Is there a trick to this? Should I say something intelligent like orchestral? Or should I just say something popular?
"I don't know. Enter Sandman, Metallica".
He takes such a polite sip of his wine again, smiling that damn smile.
What drives me made is that he seems to know everything but still retain such a humble exterior - he is such a rich peasant. What hot can he find from the simple? What good can he see from the worst? It's infuriating.
I take another swig of cat piss, and spitefully splutter it as I ask the same question to him, "What's your favourite song?".
His shit grin again. He thinks - timing the right moment to simply reply ...
"Never gonna give you up - Rick Astley".
Son of a ......... | "Still trying to corrupt all those pieces of me, huh?" G says.
Clovenhoof looks over at him over his beer and nods quietly, "yeah, im still on it..."
"You know in the End, Im gonna have to put the hammer down and collect back all those pieces don't you? Youre just delaying the inevitable...", G nods back and takes a long swig.
"Yeah, but what else do I got to do?", Cloven says, "you got me on lock down from Elysia, and I cannot see the Crystal Halls again...so all I got to hold on to are these little pieces of divinity that I stack up and pretend they mean something..."
G swallows the draught and regards them both in the mirror in front of him. His form is average, white haired, long faced, soft featured, intensely green eyes, the soft stubble of a well kempt beard. While Cloven is tall and broad shouldered, long dark hair spilling over them, face chiseled in stone, with angular features, hard cut cheeks and nose, and eyes so dark they almost draw in the light...but not quite...arrogance personified, G thought, as usual.
He sighed, and tilted his head to the side conspiratorially.
"You know...there are other worlds than this. The Halls of Eternity stretch wide, and the Heavenwrought are seeded all throughout the stars. Why don't you go visit them, taste of their pleasures, enjoy their arts...Im sure theyd be happy to see a Primary Angel in their midst again. It's been so long they probably think they've been forgotten."
Cloven leaned back a little, and regarded them both in the reflection as well. He shrugged his shoulders slightly and looked as if he wanted to say something grand, but only sighed and said,
"It's not the same."
"Why?", G asked.
"Because...", Cloven said, considering, "they don't have the Free Will that these humans have, these clouds of dirt who carry the Breathe, these creatures capable of sharing in Creation and doing, or undoing, all that it pleases them to do...The 'Wrought...they are almost like automatons, doing the work of their masters, of their creators, without a care towards their own end."
"Well, that might have have something to do with their being Immortal.", G said, taking another swig of the heavenly brown ale.
"Exactly!", Cloven said, hitting the nail on the head, "Without Death they have no value to the experiences of life, it's all a droning drama to them that never ends."
He almost spit out the last words, as if an anathema to him.
"Well, who's fault is that?", G said, "The humans were supposed to be the same, immortals, like us, but you had to go and tempt them with all that extraneous knowledge that you wave around so much, and in the process you gave them temporal knowledge of time, and existence, and burned out their ability to sustain their light...you'd rather they bury it in useless knowledge that gains them little to nothing while costing them everything...Their mortality is your doing, not mine. I planned the thing perfect, and then you came along and thought you could improve upon it. So please, spare me, your artificial 'misery'. you reap what you sow, boy, and you sowed yours long ago."
cloven considered this, behind smouldering eyes, and a thirsty throat. But the beer had lost all interest to him. All he could think about was the mess he'd made of things. And the fools among the humans who thought it was a good thing to be Lost from Paradise, and confined to one teeny world because it might mean they were wiser. they knew not even what they could've had, so thing what they did have was the be all, end all...but Cloven knew the vastness of what all they missed. And he missed it too.
He looked up and motioned for the bartender to bring his check. But G reached over and placed his small hand over Cloven's larger one and dismissed the barkeep with a nod.
"No, my old Glimmer, this one is on me."
Cloven regarded him a moment and pushed away from the beer, and the bar, and his Maker, and stood up, and turned to strut for the door, when the wily old man said one more thing.
"There's still time, time to forsake all this, and find another celestial shore..." He let the last words trail out, and in their syllables were hidden swirling worlds of bejeweled planets circled by strange moons, and full of wondrous creatures..."
the visages almost overwhelmed Cloven, and he put out one hand to steady himself on a bar stool nearby, before regaining his head.
"No, not, I cant, it's not..." he mumbled furiously, his voice gaining steam.
and then the images stopped, and the dim, rough, wooden interior of the bar was all that filled his sight again, and his anger faded, knowing how wasted it would be.
He headed for the door, not even bothering to look back when he heard G say.
"I know, I know you to the core...so I guess I'll be seeing you soon."
- | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | Part One (part two may follow)
Satan slides smoothly onto the bar stood, letting out a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, unbuttoning his expensive looking jacket.
“It wasn’t hard to find you. A creature of habit and all that” he said.
God glanced across and said nothing, swirling the drink in front of him.
The barman walks over and gestures to Satan “What are you having?” Satan looks down at Gods glass.
“Certainly not a beer" he pushes the bottle further down the bar. "Whatever he is having and get him another, he looks like he needs it” pointing to his right.
“Two double Glenfiddichs coming right up” the barman turns and reaches for the bottle and two glasses.
“Scottish? Nice” Satan said surprised, giving a small chuckle. “Well at least you have good taste, quite fitting given the occasion”
Two glasses arrive on the bar with a clink. “There you go gents”
Satan hands three hundred dollar bills over the bar. “Get yourself a drink my good man” he grins.
Shocked the barman takes the cash smiling “Thank you very much sir”
“Think nothing of it” the dark prince replies as the man returns down the bar.
“He won’t get time to spend it you know” he hissed into his glass. The whisky slides down his throat with ease. God gave a sigh.
“You just couldn’t leave it, you had to say something. You had to come in here and give me a hard time”
Satan turns on his chair to face him, cradling his glass.
“So you’re really going to let it happen?” Tilting and lowering his head trying to make eye contact with God.
“Yep” came the cold, empty reply.
“Wow, that’s low, really low, even for you!” Satan’s face became more animated. He took another drink before continuing.
“Out of all your creations, apparently, one of your favourites but yet you’re doing nothing, not even lift a finger?”
“Aren’t you very astute” came the sharp answer. Satan leaned back pondering the response.
“I honestly don’t get you sometimes. You have looked over them for so long only to abandon them in their greatest moment of need. Do they even know?”
God glances up at the clock. “No, not yet, but they will soon.”
Satan turns back to the bar. “You know I have become very fond of them myself, they amuse me no ends; far more than the others you’ve conjured up over the years. Very ironic don’t you think” He emphasises ‘others’ with a hiss. “How many have been lost now, hmm? Dozens? Hundreds? I haven’t been counting since it began, what about…” God’s glass hits the counter.
“Enough!” a few heads turn before they slowely return to their conversations.
“I know what you’re doing; don’t you think this is hard enough for me? Their fate was sealed a long-time ago” he glared into Satan’s dark eyes.
“Hard? It’s your stupid rule. No serious interventions, remember?”
“It can’t be broken”
“Sealed fate? By another creation they aren’t even aware of?” Satan looked dumfounded. "Hardly fair".
The lights suddenly flicker, a faint rumble like thunder sounds in the distance a few seconds later causing the bottles on the wall to jingle ever so slightly. A few patrons stop their conversation to question what it was, some move towards the door.
“Times ticking, I mean I’d do something if I could but I don’t have the privilege, that’s your honour” he taps his designer watch and gives God a smirk and finishes his drink.
“I can’t”
Satan moves in close to God, face to face. “Then don’t break the rules, bend them, throw them a chance, give them an opportunity to do something” he whispers. God looks at him, the internal struggle clear to see. Another flicker of the lights is accompanied by a far stronger rumble, a glass breaks somewhere, a bottle falls of the shelf, neither pay attention. More people get up and run out of the bar into the street as the sounds and shakes continue.
Satan sits up and fixes his jacket. “You know I was the last one I would have expected to plead their case, maybe I like them more than I think” he chuckles to himself “They have a way of doing that to you, don’t they?” He looks around the bar. “Well I best be on my way, it was nice talking to” He gives a grin as God looks at him knowing Satan has done what he does best. The lighters flicker off returning a second later. God is now sitting alone in the bar.
He knocks back the last of his Whisky savouring the taste.
“Very well”
| "Still trying to corrupt all those pieces of me, huh?" G says.
Clovenhoof looks over at him over his beer and nods quietly, "yeah, im still on it..."
"You know in the End, Im gonna have to put the hammer down and collect back all those pieces don't you? Youre just delaying the inevitable...", G nods back and takes a long swig.
"Yeah, but what else do I got to do?", Cloven says, "you got me on lock down from Elysia, and I cannot see the Crystal Halls again...so all I got to hold on to are these little pieces of divinity that I stack up and pretend they mean something..."
G swallows the draught and regards them both in the mirror in front of him. His form is average, white haired, long faced, soft featured, intensely green eyes, the soft stubble of a well kempt beard. While Cloven is tall and broad shouldered, long dark hair spilling over them, face chiseled in stone, with angular features, hard cut cheeks and nose, and eyes so dark they almost draw in the light...but not quite...arrogance personified, G thought, as usual.
He sighed, and tilted his head to the side conspiratorially.
"You know...there are other worlds than this. The Halls of Eternity stretch wide, and the Heavenwrought are seeded all throughout the stars. Why don't you go visit them, taste of their pleasures, enjoy their arts...Im sure theyd be happy to see a Primary Angel in their midst again. It's been so long they probably think they've been forgotten."
Cloven leaned back a little, and regarded them both in the reflection as well. He shrugged his shoulders slightly and looked as if he wanted to say something grand, but only sighed and said,
"It's not the same."
"Why?", G asked.
"Because...", Cloven said, considering, "they don't have the Free Will that these humans have, these clouds of dirt who carry the Breathe, these creatures capable of sharing in Creation and doing, or undoing, all that it pleases them to do...The 'Wrought...they are almost like automatons, doing the work of their masters, of their creators, without a care towards their own end."
"Well, that might have have something to do with their being Immortal.", G said, taking another swig of the heavenly brown ale.
"Exactly!", Cloven said, hitting the nail on the head, "Without Death they have no value to the experiences of life, it's all a droning drama to them that never ends."
He almost spit out the last words, as if an anathema to him.
"Well, who's fault is that?", G said, "The humans were supposed to be the same, immortals, like us, but you had to go and tempt them with all that extraneous knowledge that you wave around so much, and in the process you gave them temporal knowledge of time, and existence, and burned out their ability to sustain their light...you'd rather they bury it in useless knowledge that gains them little to nothing while costing them everything...Their mortality is your doing, not mine. I planned the thing perfect, and then you came along and thought you could improve upon it. So please, spare me, your artificial 'misery'. you reap what you sow, boy, and you sowed yours long ago."
cloven considered this, behind smouldering eyes, and a thirsty throat. But the beer had lost all interest to him. All he could think about was the mess he'd made of things. And the fools among the humans who thought it was a good thing to be Lost from Paradise, and confined to one teeny world because it might mean they were wiser. they knew not even what they could've had, so thing what they did have was the be all, end all...but Cloven knew the vastness of what all they missed. And he missed it too.
He looked up and motioned for the bartender to bring his check. But G reached over and placed his small hand over Cloven's larger one and dismissed the barkeep with a nod.
"No, my old Glimmer, this one is on me."
Cloven regarded him a moment and pushed away from the beer, and the bar, and his Maker, and stood up, and turned to strut for the door, when the wily old man said one more thing.
"There's still time, time to forsake all this, and find another celestial shore..." He let the last words trail out, and in their syllables were hidden swirling worlds of bejeweled planets circled by strange moons, and full of wondrous creatures..."
the visages almost overwhelmed Cloven, and he put out one hand to steady himself on a bar stool nearby, before regaining his head.
"No, not, I cant, it's not..." he mumbled furiously, his voice gaining steam.
and then the images stopped, and the dim, rough, wooden interior of the bar was all that filled his sight again, and his anger faded, knowing how wasted it would be.
He headed for the door, not even bothering to look back when he heard G say.
"I know, I know you to the core...so I guess I'll be seeing you soon."
- | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Light beer" said the Creator when the bartender finally cast his attention towards the end of the bar.
"Double margarita, extra salt!" snapped the angel who was loved once, above all others.
The Almighty blew air gingerly on the head of his glass, taking a long pull once the foam had subsided. "How are things?"
"How are things? How are things? I mean really." Lucifer sucked a toothpick while considering his drink. "I've been at the DMV all day."
"One of your more inspired creations." God chuckled a little at the thought.
"Well, I'm glad my work meets with your approval. Have you put any thought into my transfer request?"
"Now Lou, we've been over this. You're doing good work down there. It's necessary."
"I don't need you to tell me it's necessary, I know it's necessary. I need a vacation. Or better yet- I want to come back. I'm tired of working down in the basement."
"I can give you some more help down there if you feel you need it?" God put his feet up on the low rail below the bar, wiggling his toes a little as he did so, seemingly delighted with the feel of his REI sandals.
"I don't need anymore help. I've got all the souls of the deceased marketing processionals. The basement is running smoothly. I fill Hell up almost as fast as I can empty it. The point is that I'm tired and.." The Accuser stopped himself, the apology having stalled out on his lips where it had formed and almost been given voice "and it's not fair." he finished weakly.
"It was your idea Lou." The Heavenly Father fished a few peanuts from the bowl along the counter, weighing them in his hand like he was trying to deduce the value of pocket change based solely upon its weight.
"That was a long time ago." The Light Bringer downed his drink in one go "and besides, you don't need me there anymore, not really. The basement almost runs itself by this point"
"We've been over this." God chewed thoughtfully, "We decided that we need someone to mind the operation down there."
"But it's been so long! I just want to come back now."
"Then who would we have to oversea your operation? Who would vet all these souls for entry into Heaven? We can't have those who are not ready gaining entry, it would cause all kinds of problems."
"Well, that guy from American Idol only has a few years left?"
God coughed from around a mouthful of beer.
"Good one Lou. Look, it's good to see you again, but we have been over this all before. Keep up the good work would you."
Satan said nothing, watching in silence as God paid for his beer, adjusted his fanny pack and then strolled out of the bar. Inwardly, he seethed. All the time and effort he had spent fostering reality television had been a long shot, but he wasn't prepared to have his hopes dashed just yet. Besides, there were other plans..there were other ways to find a soul dark enough, embittered enough and so utterly devoid of hope and joy that it would be fit to oversee the day to day operations in hell.
Perhaps it was time to check his other pet project for some likely candidates. The comment section of YouTube was bound to have something. | "Still trying to corrupt all those pieces of me, huh?" G says.
Clovenhoof looks over at him over his beer and nods quietly, "yeah, im still on it..."
"You know in the End, Im gonna have to put the hammer down and collect back all those pieces don't you? Youre just delaying the inevitable...", G nods back and takes a long swig.
"Yeah, but what else do I got to do?", Cloven says, "you got me on lock down from Elysia, and I cannot see the Crystal Halls again...so all I got to hold on to are these little pieces of divinity that I stack up and pretend they mean something..."
G swallows the draught and regards them both in the mirror in front of him. His form is average, white haired, long faced, soft featured, intensely green eyes, the soft stubble of a well kempt beard. While Cloven is tall and broad shouldered, long dark hair spilling over them, face chiseled in stone, with angular features, hard cut cheeks and nose, and eyes so dark they almost draw in the light...but not quite...arrogance personified, G thought, as usual.
He sighed, and tilted his head to the side conspiratorially.
"You know...there are other worlds than this. The Halls of Eternity stretch wide, and the Heavenwrought are seeded all throughout the stars. Why don't you go visit them, taste of their pleasures, enjoy their arts...Im sure theyd be happy to see a Primary Angel in their midst again. It's been so long they probably think they've been forgotten."
Cloven leaned back a little, and regarded them both in the reflection as well. He shrugged his shoulders slightly and looked as if he wanted to say something grand, but only sighed and said,
"It's not the same."
"Why?", G asked.
"Because...", Cloven said, considering, "they don't have the Free Will that these humans have, these clouds of dirt who carry the Breathe, these creatures capable of sharing in Creation and doing, or undoing, all that it pleases them to do...The 'Wrought...they are almost like automatons, doing the work of their masters, of their creators, without a care towards their own end."
"Well, that might have have something to do with their being Immortal.", G said, taking another swig of the heavenly brown ale.
"Exactly!", Cloven said, hitting the nail on the head, "Without Death they have no value to the experiences of life, it's all a droning drama to them that never ends."
He almost spit out the last words, as if an anathema to him.
"Well, who's fault is that?", G said, "The humans were supposed to be the same, immortals, like us, but you had to go and tempt them with all that extraneous knowledge that you wave around so much, and in the process you gave them temporal knowledge of time, and existence, and burned out their ability to sustain their light...you'd rather they bury it in useless knowledge that gains them little to nothing while costing them everything...Their mortality is your doing, not mine. I planned the thing perfect, and then you came along and thought you could improve upon it. So please, spare me, your artificial 'misery'. you reap what you sow, boy, and you sowed yours long ago."
cloven considered this, behind smouldering eyes, and a thirsty throat. But the beer had lost all interest to him. All he could think about was the mess he'd made of things. And the fools among the humans who thought it was a good thing to be Lost from Paradise, and confined to one teeny world because it might mean they were wiser. they knew not even what they could've had, so thing what they did have was the be all, end all...but Cloven knew the vastness of what all they missed. And he missed it too.
He looked up and motioned for the bartender to bring his check. But G reached over and placed his small hand over Cloven's larger one and dismissed the barkeep with a nod.
"No, my old Glimmer, this one is on me."
Cloven regarded him a moment and pushed away from the beer, and the bar, and his Maker, and stood up, and turned to strut for the door, when the wily old man said one more thing.
"There's still time, time to forsake all this, and find another celestial shore..." He let the last words trail out, and in their syllables were hidden swirling worlds of bejeweled planets circled by strange moons, and full of wondrous creatures..."
the visages almost overwhelmed Cloven, and he put out one hand to steady himself on a bar stool nearby, before regaining his head.
"No, not, I cant, it's not..." he mumbled furiously, his voice gaining steam.
and then the images stopped, and the dim, rough, wooden interior of the bar was all that filled his sight again, and his anger faded, knowing how wasted it would be.
He headed for the door, not even bothering to look back when he heard G say.
"I know, I know you to the core...so I guess I'll be seeing you soon."
- | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | A peculiar thing happened the other day. Quite possibly the most peculiar thing to have ever happened in the history of ever. Let me explain…
It was four in the morning and I was just outside of Nevada. Some old shack of a bar fashioned from the remains of an old wooden caravan. I’d stopped for a few hours to rest my weary eyes from a hypnotic desert drive. There was only one other patron; a sweet faced, almost angelic older fellow reading at the bar. He was sipping what I assumed to be whisky, and had an unopened beer beside him. "Who in the name of God could he be waiting for out here?” I thought to myself. Just then, almost in response to my thoughts, a disheveled yet devilishly handsome young man steps through the door, and without missing a step takes a seat next to the old man.
“have we met before?” cheekily asks the handsome drifter as he takes a seat.
the old man gives him a warm smile, rises from his stool and extends his arms out on either side, waiting to receive the younger man in his embrace. begrudgingly, the young man accepts this greeting, and the two return to their stools. “such a cavalier greeting, even for you.” says the younger one. "Not sure how I feel about this look though, Old man.” the Old man slides the now open beer to the young man before responding. “would you rather have me young, attractive, and fetching for the attention of all that may gaze upon me? No, remember I come here to observe; this…” he motions toward himself. “…is observant; easily unnoticed and it doesn’t warrant attention.” The young man takes a second to look his elder up and down once more. “ You look like a desert santa clause.” the young man bursts into laughter, in uproar over his own silly joke. “Be that as it may, our chosen aesthetic is not the topic of conversation this morning.” replies the old man. “ alright then SIR, what is it you’d wish to talk about this time. My petty sins perhaps? Maybe my recent involvance in the American presidential election? Even you can’t deny this Trump guy is great.” “No, that is not wh—.” “Oh, don’t tell me it’s the same old song and dance about how much you disapprove of my time here? Look, Ive told you time and ti—.”
“Talitha is dead.” solemnly interjects the older man.
Before I continue, id like to mention that at this point, neither of the two had seemed to notice me, or if they had, didn’t bother to care that i was listening. This is important because the contents of their proceeding conversation would make anyone question…pretty much everything.
The room seemed to pause, as if the air itself had been stifled and ordered to participate in a moment of silence for this “Talitha.”
whatever cavalier attitude the young man entered with had been washed away by the old mans statement. “I’m sorry, truly. How old?” “ninety-two.” responded the old man. “ninety-two is a nice age.” says the young man." At that point it becomes a chore; living….*sigh* nothing I’m going to say will help though. Time is and will be the only way it gets better, as always. Unless you intervene…. Will you ever intervene?” “Never, endings make the beginning mean something.” answered the old man curtly. “It had been twenty four years since I last spoke to her. I told her id be waiting for her, one last comforting thought." the old man chuckled to himself. "Dammit old timer, how many times will it take before you stop getting involved with women down here? Does your omnipotence not protect you from making the same mistakes over and over again? And what about her? She, if no one else, deserved more.” The old man pauses before speaking, then smiled warmly at the young man. "Love was never your strong suit, but i don’t doubt you have some form of it somewhere in you." The young man rises from his stool, clearly upset by the old mans last statement. "I’m glad that you came, I’ll be returning home this evening. Before you go, I want to ask you if you would allow Talitha’s remembrance to remain with you?” The young man, now halfway across the room stops his stride and utters a faint “yes” before disappearing into the desert from whence he came.
“I knew you were here.” said the man, now sitting across from me. “Oh, sorry I must have dozed off, i didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your conversation by the way, hard not to listen in a place so small.” I mumbled, half asleep. “He didn’t” the old man throws his thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “Too caught up in himself I suppose. Good thing, for you that is, such knowledge you’ve been privy to this morning! Had he been aware of your presence, you’d have been enslaved for eternity!” My words caught in my throat. “A joke, Mason. You should be plenty rested by now, off to Vegas with you, don’t disappoint me by not disappointing me while you’re there!” words begin to drip from my mouth “uhh, yea, don’t disappoint, got it. Not sure how I feel right now, anything you can say to maybe relieve this existential crisis Im having?” The Old man laughs “No unfortunately, you’re smart enough to acknowledge a higher power. err— you are now that is. I ask you only one thing, the girl that my friend and I discussed, keep that a secret, yea? If you don’t, Ill smite you where you stand.” the sentence seemed to resonate in my head like a gong. I hesitated for a moment, reeling from the levity of this mornings events. “Uh, sir…God, i guess… Of all the questions I could ask, I only would like to know one thing, and that is, who was she, and why did you want your friend to have her?” God gave me the same warm smile he gave what I assume was Satan. “She was my daughter, and as for why I wanted him to have her, well, Talitha will remain a physical rememberence in the afterlife, a statue of a young girl in this case. I can’t bear to see that for eternity, but I think that he could, and although he might not admit it, Id say he would rather enjoy it." God looked around the small weathered tavern with a satisfied look upon his face and took a final sip from his glass. "But alas, i must be off, been here a good hundred years of so, getting kind of homesick to be honest. Good morning Mason, use HANGOVER HEAVEN for all of your morning after needs and good luck with your sins."
I awoke again, this time in what I’m assuming was my hotel room in Vegas, short on the details of last night, and suffering a headache from what seemed like hell itself. My hotel room was clean, immaculate even, as if I had arrived already asleep. The only thing that seemed out of place was a metal dish on the floor with a single card resting in the middle of it. It read…
HANGOVER HEAVEN
headache from hell?
come experience a resurrection of relaxation
702-555-1122
p.s. don’t get smitten | Satan sits. The barkeeper brings his drink, a long island tea, wordlessly. Satan sips, then turns to face God. "Shall we have another go of it? Do you have another Job?"
God muses, "A Job, for you, the last one was tough, a lot of collateral damage. But I rewarded him, at the end, more of everything."
Satan sippled again. "Every night, when he went to bed. he would whisper the names of his lost loved ones. But he knew not to complain."
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Luuuucy, look at you, you haven't changed a bit!" The man who spoke was jovial, and wore a basic white polo shirt over khaki pants. His face was old, but there was something indefinably youthful about his eyes.
"You know I hate that nickname. That joke has never been funny," said the man who was now pulling up a chair next to him at the bar. He waved down the bartender and asked for a whiskey, neat.
"You have to lighten up, my friend. It was just a joke!" The older man took a sip of his drink and put it down on the bar. He looked over at the other man, who was dressed sharply in a dark blue suit, with a soft expression. "Seriously though, Lucifer, it has been too long. How long has it been now?"
The other man, having just gotten his whiskey, took a sip before answering. "Come *on*. The whole all-knowledgeable thing really makes questions like that sound patronizing. You know *exactly* how long it's been."
"Seven hundred and twenty four years, eight months, two weeks and four days."
"Sounds right to me," said Lucifer, with a scowl. He downed the remainder of his drink and waved to the bartender for a refill. "Why do you want to talk now, after all this time?"
"You know why," said the man in white.
"Oh come ON!" The man in blue slammed his fist down on the bar as he said the last word. Almost cartoon-like, and in a way that would have been funny if not for his evident rage, steam seemed to rise from his ears. "We have had this conversation over and over, and I am not changing my mind. *Especially* not now."
The man in white took a deep breath before he spoke. "You have always had such a temper. Granted I created you that way, but I hoped it would be something you would overcome and be stronger because of it." Lucifer started to respond but the man in white spoke over him. "You have such potential in you, Lucifer. I created you to be the Bringer of Light, but you cast it away and took the fall, and for what? Your kingdom of nothing?"
Again, the man in blue seemed about to speak, but a commotion in the corner of the bar interrupted him. A fight had broken out between two very drunk men. They rained blows on each other until they were finally broken up by another group of patrons, and kicked out by the bartender. The scene now over, the man in blue looked back to the man in white. "I would rather have my kingdom of nothing than fall in second to the ones you really love. Those... *humans*." He spit the last work out with disgust, as if he had just swallowed a spider. "You will always love them more."
The man in white looked at him closely, and leaned in so that he could say his next words quietly. "You're right. I will. It isn't for you to agree with or to understand, but just know that I always will." He stood up from his bar stool and left enough cash on the counter to cover both of their drinks, and looked back at Lucifer. "However, that doesn't change the fact that I will *always* forgive you. I will always let you back in if you only ask. It's your choice, my son."
He patted the man in the blue on the shoulder, but Lucifer pulled away. The man in white gave him one final, somber look, and walked away. As he opened the door to leave, a bright light filled the room, but was gone as quickly as it had come.
The man in blue sat alone at the bar, and downed the rest of his drink. "Go to hell," he said under his breath, though if he was talking to the now departed man or to himself, even he did not know. | Satan sits. The barkeeper brings his drink, a long island tea, wordlessly. Satan sips, then turns to face God. "Shall we have another go of it? Do you have another Job?"
God muses, "A Job, for you, the last one was tough, a lot of collateral damage. But I rewarded him, at the end, more of everything."
Satan sippled again. "Every night, when he went to bed. he would whisper the names of his lost loved ones. But he knew not to complain."
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Light beer" said the Creator when the bartender finally cast his attention towards the end of the bar.
"Double margarita, extra salt!" snapped the angel who was loved once, above all others.
The Almighty blew air gingerly on the head of his glass, taking a long pull once the foam had subsided. "How are things?"
"How are things? How are things? I mean really." Lucifer sucked a toothpick while considering his drink. "I've been at the DMV all day."
"One of your more inspired creations." God chuckled a little at the thought.
"Well, I'm glad my work meets with your approval. Have you put any thought into my transfer request?"
"Now Lou, we've been over this. You're doing good work down there. It's necessary."
"I don't need you to tell me it's necessary, I know it's necessary. I need a vacation. Or better yet- I want to come back. I'm tired of working down in the basement."
"I can give you some more help down there if you feel you need it?" God put his feet up on the low rail below the bar, wiggling his toes a little as he did so, seemingly delighted with the feel of his REI sandals.
"I don't need anymore help. I've got all the souls of the deceased marketing processionals. The basement is running smoothly. I fill Hell up almost as fast as I can empty it. The point is that I'm tired and.." The Accuser stopped himself, the apology having stalled out on his lips where it had formed and almost been given voice "and it's not fair." he finished weakly.
"It was your idea Lou." The Heavenly Father fished a few peanuts from the bowl along the counter, weighing them in his hand like he was trying to deduce the value of pocket change based solely upon its weight.
"That was a long time ago." The Light Bringer downed his drink in one go "and besides, you don't need me there anymore, not really. The basement almost runs itself by this point"
"We've been over this." God chewed thoughtfully, "We decided that we need someone to mind the operation down there."
"But it's been so long! I just want to come back now."
"Then who would we have to oversea your operation? Who would vet all these souls for entry into Heaven? We can't have those who are not ready gaining entry, it would cause all kinds of problems."
"Well, that guy from American Idol only has a few years left?"
God coughed from around a mouthful of beer.
"Good one Lou. Look, it's good to see you again, but we have been over this all before. Keep up the good work would you."
Satan said nothing, watching in silence as God paid for his beer, adjusted his fanny pack and then strolled out of the bar. Inwardly, he seethed. All the time and effort he had spent fostering reality television had been a long shot, but he wasn't prepared to have his hopes dashed just yet. Besides, there were other plans..there were other ways to find a soul dark enough, embittered enough and so utterly devoid of hope and joy that it would be fit to oversee the day to day operations in hell.
Perhaps it was time to check his other pet project for some likely candidates. The comment section of YouTube was bound to have something. | Satan sits. The barkeeper brings his drink, a long island tea, wordlessly. Satan sips, then turns to face God. "Shall we have another go of it? Do you have another Job?"
God muses, "A Job, for you, the last one was tough, a lot of collateral damage. But I rewarded him, at the end, more of everything."
Satan sippled again. "Every night, when he went to bed. he would whisper the names of his lost loved ones. But he knew not to complain."
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | A peculiar thing happened the other day. Quite possibly the most peculiar thing to have ever happened in the history of ever. Let me explain…
It was four in the morning and I was just outside of Nevada. Some old shack of a bar fashioned from the remains of an old wooden caravan. I’d stopped for a few hours to rest my weary eyes from a hypnotic desert drive. There was only one other patron; a sweet faced, almost angelic older fellow reading at the bar. He was sipping what I assumed to be whisky, and had an unopened beer beside him. "Who in the name of God could he be waiting for out here?” I thought to myself. Just then, almost in response to my thoughts, a disheveled yet devilishly handsome young man steps through the door, and without missing a step takes a seat next to the old man.
“have we met before?” cheekily asks the handsome drifter as he takes a seat.
the old man gives him a warm smile, rises from his stool and extends his arms out on either side, waiting to receive the younger man in his embrace. begrudgingly, the young man accepts this greeting, and the two return to their stools. “such a cavalier greeting, even for you.” says the younger one. "Not sure how I feel about this look though, Old man.” the Old man slides the now open beer to the young man before responding. “would you rather have me young, attractive, and fetching for the attention of all that may gaze upon me? No, remember I come here to observe; this…” he motions toward himself. “…is observant; easily unnoticed and it doesn’t warrant attention.” The young man takes a second to look his elder up and down once more. “ You look like a desert santa clause.” the young man bursts into laughter, in uproar over his own silly joke. “Be that as it may, our chosen aesthetic is not the topic of conversation this morning.” replies the old man. “ alright then SIR, what is it you’d wish to talk about this time. My petty sins perhaps? Maybe my recent involvance in the American presidential election? Even you can’t deny this Trump guy is great.” “No, that is not wh—.” “Oh, don’t tell me it’s the same old song and dance about how much you disapprove of my time here? Look, Ive told you time and ti—.”
“Talitha is dead.” solemnly interjects the older man.
Before I continue, id like to mention that at this point, neither of the two had seemed to notice me, or if they had, didn’t bother to care that i was listening. This is important because the contents of their proceeding conversation would make anyone question…pretty much everything.
The room seemed to pause, as if the air itself had been stifled and ordered to participate in a moment of silence for this “Talitha.”
whatever cavalier attitude the young man entered with had been washed away by the old mans statement. “I’m sorry, truly. How old?” “ninety-two.” responded the old man. “ninety-two is a nice age.” says the young man." At that point it becomes a chore; living….*sigh* nothing I’m going to say will help though. Time is and will be the only way it gets better, as always. Unless you intervene…. Will you ever intervene?” “Never, endings make the beginning mean something.” answered the old man curtly. “It had been twenty four years since I last spoke to her. I told her id be waiting for her, one last comforting thought." the old man chuckled to himself. "Dammit old timer, how many times will it take before you stop getting involved with women down here? Does your omnipotence not protect you from making the same mistakes over and over again? And what about her? She, if no one else, deserved more.” The old man pauses before speaking, then smiled warmly at the young man. "Love was never your strong suit, but i don’t doubt you have some form of it somewhere in you." The young man rises from his stool, clearly upset by the old mans last statement. "I’m glad that you came, I’ll be returning home this evening. Before you go, I want to ask you if you would allow Talitha’s remembrance to remain with you?” The young man, now halfway across the room stops his stride and utters a faint “yes” before disappearing into the desert from whence he came.
“I knew you were here.” said the man, now sitting across from me. “Oh, sorry I must have dozed off, i didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your conversation by the way, hard not to listen in a place so small.” I mumbled, half asleep. “He didn’t” the old man throws his thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “Too caught up in himself I suppose. Good thing, for you that is, such knowledge you’ve been privy to this morning! Had he been aware of your presence, you’d have been enslaved for eternity!” My words caught in my throat. “A joke, Mason. You should be plenty rested by now, off to Vegas with you, don’t disappoint me by not disappointing me while you’re there!” words begin to drip from my mouth “uhh, yea, don’t disappoint, got it. Not sure how I feel right now, anything you can say to maybe relieve this existential crisis Im having?” The Old man laughs “No unfortunately, you’re smart enough to acknowledge a higher power. err— you are now that is. I ask you only one thing, the girl that my friend and I discussed, keep that a secret, yea? If you don’t, Ill smite you where you stand.” the sentence seemed to resonate in my head like a gong. I hesitated for a moment, reeling from the levity of this mornings events. “Uh, sir…God, i guess… Of all the questions I could ask, I only would like to know one thing, and that is, who was she, and why did you want your friend to have her?” God gave me the same warm smile he gave what I assume was Satan. “She was my daughter, and as for why I wanted him to have her, well, Talitha will remain a physical rememberence in the afterlife, a statue of a young girl in this case. I can’t bear to see that for eternity, but I think that he could, and although he might not admit it, Id say he would rather enjoy it." God looked around the small weathered tavern with a satisfied look upon his face and took a final sip from his glass. "But alas, i must be off, been here a good hundred years of so, getting kind of homesick to be honest. Good morning Mason, use HANGOVER HEAVEN for all of your morning after needs and good luck with your sins."
I awoke again, this time in what I’m assuming was my hotel room in Vegas, short on the details of last night, and suffering a headache from what seemed like hell itself. My hotel room was clean, immaculate even, as if I had arrived already asleep. The only thing that seemed out of place was a metal dish on the floor with a single card resting in the middle of it. It read…
HANGOVER HEAVEN
headache from hell?
come experience a resurrection of relaxation
702-555-1122
p.s. don’t get smitten | Satan and God are a wonderful pair.
One is a ruler, another's an heir.
As they sat in that bar at Stonebury Peak
Both their mouths opened and they started to speak.
You are my father, and I am your son.
It has been so since our time begun.
You're fallen, my son. But, well, you see
I'm glad you had broken yourself free.
A minion of God or my own goddamn master?
Honestly, I couldn't have decided faster.
The number six or the number seven?
One rules hell, the other rules heaven.
We're not that different when all this is done.
We're just like each other, like father and son.
An extra verse:
A tender tinder,
So nimble and pure.
Postman Tap
Can break through your door. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Luuuucy, look at you, you haven't changed a bit!" The man who spoke was jovial, and wore a basic white polo shirt over khaki pants. His face was old, but there was something indefinably youthful about his eyes.
"You know I hate that nickname. That joke has never been funny," said the man who was now pulling up a chair next to him at the bar. He waved down the bartender and asked for a whiskey, neat.
"You have to lighten up, my friend. It was just a joke!" The older man took a sip of his drink and put it down on the bar. He looked over at the other man, who was dressed sharply in a dark blue suit, with a soft expression. "Seriously though, Lucifer, it has been too long. How long has it been now?"
The other man, having just gotten his whiskey, took a sip before answering. "Come *on*. The whole all-knowledgeable thing really makes questions like that sound patronizing. You know *exactly* how long it's been."
"Seven hundred and twenty four years, eight months, two weeks and four days."
"Sounds right to me," said Lucifer, with a scowl. He downed the remainder of his drink and waved to the bartender for a refill. "Why do you want to talk now, after all this time?"
"You know why," said the man in white.
"Oh come ON!" The man in blue slammed his fist down on the bar as he said the last word. Almost cartoon-like, and in a way that would have been funny if not for his evident rage, steam seemed to rise from his ears. "We have had this conversation over and over, and I am not changing my mind. *Especially* not now."
The man in white took a deep breath before he spoke. "You have always had such a temper. Granted I created you that way, but I hoped it would be something you would overcome and be stronger because of it." Lucifer started to respond but the man in white spoke over him. "You have such potential in you, Lucifer. I created you to be the Bringer of Light, but you cast it away and took the fall, and for what? Your kingdom of nothing?"
Again, the man in blue seemed about to speak, but a commotion in the corner of the bar interrupted him. A fight had broken out between two very drunk men. They rained blows on each other until they were finally broken up by another group of patrons, and kicked out by the bartender. The scene now over, the man in blue looked back to the man in white. "I would rather have my kingdom of nothing than fall in second to the ones you really love. Those... *humans*." He spit the last work out with disgust, as if he had just swallowed a spider. "You will always love them more."
The man in white looked at him closely, and leaned in so that he could say his next words quietly. "You're right. I will. It isn't for you to agree with or to understand, but just know that I always will." He stood up from his bar stool and left enough cash on the counter to cover both of their drinks, and looked back at Lucifer. "However, that doesn't change the fact that I will *always* forgive you. I will always let you back in if you only ask. It's your choice, my son."
He patted the man in the blue on the shoulder, but Lucifer pulled away. The man in white gave him one final, somber look, and walked away. As he opened the door to leave, a bright light filled the room, but was gone as quickly as it had come.
The man in blue sat alone at the bar, and downed the rest of his drink. "Go to hell," he said under his breath, though if he was talking to the now departed man or to himself, even he did not know. | Satan and God are a wonderful pair.
One is a ruler, another's an heir.
As they sat in that bar at Stonebury Peak
Both their mouths opened and they started to speak.
You are my father, and I am your son.
It has been so since our time begun.
You're fallen, my son. But, well, you see
I'm glad you had broken yourself free.
A minion of God or my own goddamn master?
Honestly, I couldn't have decided faster.
The number six or the number seven?
One rules hell, the other rules heaven.
We're not that different when all this is done.
We're just like each other, like father and son.
An extra verse:
A tender tinder,
So nimble and pure.
Postman Tap
Can break through your door. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Light beer" said the Creator when the bartender finally cast his attention towards the end of the bar.
"Double margarita, extra salt!" snapped the angel who was loved once, above all others.
The Almighty blew air gingerly on the head of his glass, taking a long pull once the foam had subsided. "How are things?"
"How are things? How are things? I mean really." Lucifer sucked a toothpick while considering his drink. "I've been at the DMV all day."
"One of your more inspired creations." God chuckled a little at the thought.
"Well, I'm glad my work meets with your approval. Have you put any thought into my transfer request?"
"Now Lou, we've been over this. You're doing good work down there. It's necessary."
"I don't need you to tell me it's necessary, I know it's necessary. I need a vacation. Or better yet- I want to come back. I'm tired of working down in the basement."
"I can give you some more help down there if you feel you need it?" God put his feet up on the low rail below the bar, wiggling his toes a little as he did so, seemingly delighted with the feel of his REI sandals.
"I don't need anymore help. I've got all the souls of the deceased marketing processionals. The basement is running smoothly. I fill Hell up almost as fast as I can empty it. The point is that I'm tired and.." The Accuser stopped himself, the apology having stalled out on his lips where it had formed and almost been given voice "and it's not fair." he finished weakly.
"It was your idea Lou." The Heavenly Father fished a few peanuts from the bowl along the counter, weighing them in his hand like he was trying to deduce the value of pocket change based solely upon its weight.
"That was a long time ago." The Light Bringer downed his drink in one go "and besides, you don't need me there anymore, not really. The basement almost runs itself by this point"
"We've been over this." God chewed thoughtfully, "We decided that we need someone to mind the operation down there."
"But it's been so long! I just want to come back now."
"Then who would we have to oversea your operation? Who would vet all these souls for entry into Heaven? We can't have those who are not ready gaining entry, it would cause all kinds of problems."
"Well, that guy from American Idol only has a few years left?"
God coughed from around a mouthful of beer.
"Good one Lou. Look, it's good to see you again, but we have been over this all before. Keep up the good work would you."
Satan said nothing, watching in silence as God paid for his beer, adjusted his fanny pack and then strolled out of the bar. Inwardly, he seethed. All the time and effort he had spent fostering reality television had been a long shot, but he wasn't prepared to have his hopes dashed just yet. Besides, there were other plans..there were other ways to find a soul dark enough, embittered enough and so utterly devoid of hope and joy that it would be fit to oversee the day to day operations in hell.
Perhaps it was time to check his other pet project for some likely candidates. The comment section of YouTube was bound to have something. | Satan and God are a wonderful pair.
One is a ruler, another's an heir.
As they sat in that bar at Stonebury Peak
Both their mouths opened and they started to speak.
You are my father, and I am your son.
It has been so since our time begun.
You're fallen, my son. But, well, you see
I'm glad you had broken yourself free.
A minion of God or my own goddamn master?
Honestly, I couldn't have decided faster.
The number six or the number seven?
One rules hell, the other rules heaven.
We're not that different when all this is done.
We're just like each other, like father and son.
An extra verse:
A tender tinder,
So nimble and pure.
Postman Tap
Can break through your door. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | A peculiar thing happened the other day. Quite possibly the most peculiar thing to have ever happened in the history of ever. Let me explain…
It was four in the morning and I was just outside of Nevada. Some old shack of a bar fashioned from the remains of an old wooden caravan. I’d stopped for a few hours to rest my weary eyes from a hypnotic desert drive. There was only one other patron; a sweet faced, almost angelic older fellow reading at the bar. He was sipping what I assumed to be whisky, and had an unopened beer beside him. "Who in the name of God could he be waiting for out here?” I thought to myself. Just then, almost in response to my thoughts, a disheveled yet devilishly handsome young man steps through the door, and without missing a step takes a seat next to the old man.
“have we met before?” cheekily asks the handsome drifter as he takes a seat.
the old man gives him a warm smile, rises from his stool and extends his arms out on either side, waiting to receive the younger man in his embrace. begrudgingly, the young man accepts this greeting, and the two return to their stools. “such a cavalier greeting, even for you.” says the younger one. "Not sure how I feel about this look though, Old man.” the Old man slides the now open beer to the young man before responding. “would you rather have me young, attractive, and fetching for the attention of all that may gaze upon me? No, remember I come here to observe; this…” he motions toward himself. “…is observant; easily unnoticed and it doesn’t warrant attention.” The young man takes a second to look his elder up and down once more. “ You look like a desert santa clause.” the young man bursts into laughter, in uproar over his own silly joke. “Be that as it may, our chosen aesthetic is not the topic of conversation this morning.” replies the old man. “ alright then SIR, what is it you’d wish to talk about this time. My petty sins perhaps? Maybe my recent involvance in the American presidential election? Even you can’t deny this Trump guy is great.” “No, that is not wh—.” “Oh, don’t tell me it’s the same old song and dance about how much you disapprove of my time here? Look, Ive told you time and ti—.”
“Talitha is dead.” solemnly interjects the older man.
Before I continue, id like to mention that at this point, neither of the two had seemed to notice me, or if they had, didn’t bother to care that i was listening. This is important because the contents of their proceeding conversation would make anyone question…pretty much everything.
The room seemed to pause, as if the air itself had been stifled and ordered to participate in a moment of silence for this “Talitha.”
whatever cavalier attitude the young man entered with had been washed away by the old mans statement. “I’m sorry, truly. How old?” “ninety-two.” responded the old man. “ninety-two is a nice age.” says the young man." At that point it becomes a chore; living….*sigh* nothing I’m going to say will help though. Time is and will be the only way it gets better, as always. Unless you intervene…. Will you ever intervene?” “Never, endings make the beginning mean something.” answered the old man curtly. “It had been twenty four years since I last spoke to her. I told her id be waiting for her, one last comforting thought." the old man chuckled to himself. "Dammit old timer, how many times will it take before you stop getting involved with women down here? Does your omnipotence not protect you from making the same mistakes over and over again? And what about her? She, if no one else, deserved more.” The old man pauses before speaking, then smiled warmly at the young man. "Love was never your strong suit, but i don’t doubt you have some form of it somewhere in you." The young man rises from his stool, clearly upset by the old mans last statement. "I’m glad that you came, I’ll be returning home this evening. Before you go, I want to ask you if you would allow Talitha’s remembrance to remain with you?” The young man, now halfway across the room stops his stride and utters a faint “yes” before disappearing into the desert from whence he came.
“I knew you were here.” said the man, now sitting across from me. “Oh, sorry I must have dozed off, i didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your conversation by the way, hard not to listen in a place so small.” I mumbled, half asleep. “He didn’t” the old man throws his thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “Too caught up in himself I suppose. Good thing, for you that is, such knowledge you’ve been privy to this morning! Had he been aware of your presence, you’d have been enslaved for eternity!” My words caught in my throat. “A joke, Mason. You should be plenty rested by now, off to Vegas with you, don’t disappoint me by not disappointing me while you’re there!” words begin to drip from my mouth “uhh, yea, don’t disappoint, got it. Not sure how I feel right now, anything you can say to maybe relieve this existential crisis Im having?” The Old man laughs “No unfortunately, you’re smart enough to acknowledge a higher power. err— you are now that is. I ask you only one thing, the girl that my friend and I discussed, keep that a secret, yea? If you don’t, Ill smite you where you stand.” the sentence seemed to resonate in my head like a gong. I hesitated for a moment, reeling from the levity of this mornings events. “Uh, sir…God, i guess… Of all the questions I could ask, I only would like to know one thing, and that is, who was she, and why did you want your friend to have her?” God gave me the same warm smile he gave what I assume was Satan. “She was my daughter, and as for why I wanted him to have her, well, Talitha will remain a physical rememberence in the afterlife, a statue of a young girl in this case. I can’t bear to see that for eternity, but I think that he could, and although he might not admit it, Id say he would rather enjoy it." God looked around the small weathered tavern with a satisfied look upon his face and took a final sip from his glass. "But alas, i must be off, been here a good hundred years of so, getting kind of homesick to be honest. Good morning Mason, use HANGOVER HEAVEN for all of your morning after needs and good luck with your sins."
I awoke again, this time in what I’m assuming was my hotel room in Vegas, short on the details of last night, and suffering a headache from what seemed like hell itself. My hotel room was clean, immaculate even, as if I had arrived already asleep. The only thing that seemed out of place was a metal dish on the floor with a single card resting in the middle of it. It read…
HANGOVER HEAVEN
headache from hell?
come experience a resurrection of relaxation
702-555-1122
p.s. don’t get smitten | As God sat among his creations he felt a strange presence engulf the room that no one else seemed to notice. He knew the presence all too well, and ordered an additional drink in preparation. The barkeep finished pouring a draft beer just as the door to the pub opened with slightly more force than normal.
God glanced over and as expected there stood Satan.
"Jesus Christ...of course this is the one time the son of God is late," mumbled God as Satan recognized him in his human form.
The room stood eerily still while the two men starred at each other planning their next moves. Although the pub had an Irish decor and atmosphere, the initial standoff between God and Satan could only be described as a scene from a Spaghetti Western Film.
God knew this could end badly if not handled appropriately and in an effort to maintain universal order he offered an open seat and a beer to Satan.
Begrudgingly, Satan took a seat and sipped his beer and the room returned to normal. His face quickly turned sour as he took the sip. "A Larger? Really? You come to Earth to drink a Yuengling Larger?" Satan clamored.
"Hello Lucifer, it has been far too long. Condescending and ungrateful as usual. How are things in Hell?" asked God.
"God, my name is the Satan, AKA the Devil. You know I hate the name Lucifer. However Hell is okay," Satan said as he took a large swig of his beverage. "The Council of Hell has completely lost it," he said in a disappointed tone.
"I am talking about reckless spending that is not doing anything to benefit the torturing of the trillions of minions of Hell and has essentially gridlocked any expansion efforts to allow the population to increase. Not to mention the brimstone shortage that is causing Hell to cool down at an alarming rate," Satan said.
God looked at Satan in a puzzled manner, "Wait, wait, wait, are you telling me that you set up a democracy in Hell?"
Satan looked at God with a shameful resting face. "Well yeah, it seemed like a great idea at the time, especially with the number of global conflicts occurring. There were just too many people coming to Hell. It all started when my marketing department proposed this incredibly evil campaign to efficiently address the influx of people. It would have offered the souls of the damned eternal representation in Hell. It was loosely based on a democratic model of governing and was flawless at first," explained Satan as he quickly finished his beer.
The barkeep placed a bourbon neat in front of Satan. "How did he know I was going to order a bourbon neat?" asked Satan.
"There are an infinite number of answers to that question, but let’s go with because I am God," chuckled God, "But Lucifer please continue, I have never seen you this discontent with evil."
Satan nodded in agreement as he addressed his beverage. "So like I was saying it was great at first. Establishing a government decreased my work load and allowed me to spend more time corrupting the masses on the Earth. Establishing a government also enslaved the souls of the damned with the greatest of ease and they didn't even realize it. It also allowed them to vote for the most evil people in Hell to represent them in the Council of Hell," explained Satan.
He continued, "The first evil election was great. The most evil people in Hell all won seats on the council. There were certainly those wanna be evil minions like Adolf Eichmann, Maximilien Robespierre, Elizabeth Bathory and so on, but it was a group of the truly evil minions that have caused all this trouble."
God was listened intently as the barkeep brought Satan another bourbon neat.
"It happened in what felt like an instant. A group led by Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler
, and Mao Zedong gathered the support of all on the council to have an evil constitutional convention behind my back. Long story short I am not really in charge of Hell anymore, but more like a spokesman of Hell," Satan said in a bleak voice.
God was astonished at what Satan said. "So the Prime Evil is now a collective of evil beings that overthrew you to establish an even more evil presence in the universe?" God inquired.
"In a nutshell, yes, that is the case," said Satan.
"Oh my me," said God, "Do you know what you have done Satan? You have essentially created something more evil than evil itself," opined God.
Satan finished his drink, "Yes I know exactly what I have done."
The two sat in silence for a moment to ponder what had happened, when suddenly the door to the pub opened. An obnoxiously drunk women stumbled in and began yelling. " OH MY GOD! Everyone come out side!!! This guy is turning the fountain water into wine!” exclaimed the woman.
God and Satan turned to each other and in unison yelled, “Jesus!”
“Jesus Christ, I am sure he is trying to impress some group of women celebrating a bachelorette party or something,” said God in a disappointed tone. “Well Lucifer, I have to go and see what the son of me is getting himself into this time. Remember I am always here for you if you need to talk, and sorry to hear about you losing control in Hell.”
“God, do you think I could tag along and see Jesus? It has been centuries since I have had a chance to see him,” Inquired Satan.
Feeling bad for Satan, God said, “Sure. I do not see the harm in just one glass of wine.”
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Luuuucy, look at you, you haven't changed a bit!" The man who spoke was jovial, and wore a basic white polo shirt over khaki pants. His face was old, but there was something indefinably youthful about his eyes.
"You know I hate that nickname. That joke has never been funny," said the man who was now pulling up a chair next to him at the bar. He waved down the bartender and asked for a whiskey, neat.
"You have to lighten up, my friend. It was just a joke!" The older man took a sip of his drink and put it down on the bar. He looked over at the other man, who was dressed sharply in a dark blue suit, with a soft expression. "Seriously though, Lucifer, it has been too long. How long has it been now?"
The other man, having just gotten his whiskey, took a sip before answering. "Come *on*. The whole all-knowledgeable thing really makes questions like that sound patronizing. You know *exactly* how long it's been."
"Seven hundred and twenty four years, eight months, two weeks and four days."
"Sounds right to me," said Lucifer, with a scowl. He downed the remainder of his drink and waved to the bartender for a refill. "Why do you want to talk now, after all this time?"
"You know why," said the man in white.
"Oh come ON!" The man in blue slammed his fist down on the bar as he said the last word. Almost cartoon-like, and in a way that would have been funny if not for his evident rage, steam seemed to rise from his ears. "We have had this conversation over and over, and I am not changing my mind. *Especially* not now."
The man in white took a deep breath before he spoke. "You have always had such a temper. Granted I created you that way, but I hoped it would be something you would overcome and be stronger because of it." Lucifer started to respond but the man in white spoke over him. "You have such potential in you, Lucifer. I created you to be the Bringer of Light, but you cast it away and took the fall, and for what? Your kingdom of nothing?"
Again, the man in blue seemed about to speak, but a commotion in the corner of the bar interrupted him. A fight had broken out between two very drunk men. They rained blows on each other until they were finally broken up by another group of patrons, and kicked out by the bartender. The scene now over, the man in blue looked back to the man in white. "I would rather have my kingdom of nothing than fall in second to the ones you really love. Those... *humans*." He spit the last work out with disgust, as if he had just swallowed a spider. "You will always love them more."
The man in white looked at him closely, and leaned in so that he could say his next words quietly. "You're right. I will. It isn't for you to agree with or to understand, but just know that I always will." He stood up from his bar stool and left enough cash on the counter to cover both of their drinks, and looked back at Lucifer. "However, that doesn't change the fact that I will *always* forgive you. I will always let you back in if you only ask. It's your choice, my son."
He patted the man in the blue on the shoulder, but Lucifer pulled away. The man in white gave him one final, somber look, and walked away. As he opened the door to leave, a bright light filled the room, but was gone as quickly as it had come.
The man in blue sat alone at the bar, and downed the rest of his drink. "Go to hell," he said under his breath, though if he was talking to the now departed man or to himself, even he did not know. | As God sat among his creations he felt a strange presence engulf the room that no one else seemed to notice. He knew the presence all too well, and ordered an additional drink in preparation. The barkeep finished pouring a draft beer just as the door to the pub opened with slightly more force than normal.
God glanced over and as expected there stood Satan.
"Jesus Christ...of course this is the one time the son of God is late," mumbled God as Satan recognized him in his human form.
The room stood eerily still while the two men starred at each other planning their next moves. Although the pub had an Irish decor and atmosphere, the initial standoff between God and Satan could only be described as a scene from a Spaghetti Western Film.
God knew this could end badly if not handled appropriately and in an effort to maintain universal order he offered an open seat and a beer to Satan.
Begrudgingly, Satan took a seat and sipped his beer and the room returned to normal. His face quickly turned sour as he took the sip. "A Larger? Really? You come to Earth to drink a Yuengling Larger?" Satan clamored.
"Hello Lucifer, it has been far too long. Condescending and ungrateful as usual. How are things in Hell?" asked God.
"God, my name is the Satan, AKA the Devil. You know I hate the name Lucifer. However Hell is okay," Satan said as he took a large swig of his beverage. "The Council of Hell has completely lost it," he said in a disappointed tone.
"I am talking about reckless spending that is not doing anything to benefit the torturing of the trillions of minions of Hell and has essentially gridlocked any expansion efforts to allow the population to increase. Not to mention the brimstone shortage that is causing Hell to cool down at an alarming rate," Satan said.
God looked at Satan in a puzzled manner, "Wait, wait, wait, are you telling me that you set up a democracy in Hell?"
Satan looked at God with a shameful resting face. "Well yeah, it seemed like a great idea at the time, especially with the number of global conflicts occurring. There were just too many people coming to Hell. It all started when my marketing department proposed this incredibly evil campaign to efficiently address the influx of people. It would have offered the souls of the damned eternal representation in Hell. It was loosely based on a democratic model of governing and was flawless at first," explained Satan as he quickly finished his beer.
The barkeep placed a bourbon neat in front of Satan. "How did he know I was going to order a bourbon neat?" asked Satan.
"There are an infinite number of answers to that question, but let’s go with because I am God," chuckled God, "But Lucifer please continue, I have never seen you this discontent with evil."
Satan nodded in agreement as he addressed his beverage. "So like I was saying it was great at first. Establishing a government decreased my work load and allowed me to spend more time corrupting the masses on the Earth. Establishing a government also enslaved the souls of the damned with the greatest of ease and they didn't even realize it. It also allowed them to vote for the most evil people in Hell to represent them in the Council of Hell," explained Satan.
He continued, "The first evil election was great. The most evil people in Hell all won seats on the council. There were certainly those wanna be evil minions like Adolf Eichmann, Maximilien Robespierre, Elizabeth Bathory and so on, but it was a group of the truly evil minions that have caused all this trouble."
God was listened intently as the barkeep brought Satan another bourbon neat.
"It happened in what felt like an instant. A group led by Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler
, and Mao Zedong gathered the support of all on the council to have an evil constitutional convention behind my back. Long story short I am not really in charge of Hell anymore, but more like a spokesman of Hell," Satan said in a bleak voice.
God was astonished at what Satan said. "So the Prime Evil is now a collective of evil beings that overthrew you to establish an even more evil presence in the universe?" God inquired.
"In a nutshell, yes, that is the case," said Satan.
"Oh my me," said God, "Do you know what you have done Satan? You have essentially created something more evil than evil itself," opined God.
Satan finished his drink, "Yes I know exactly what I have done."
The two sat in silence for a moment to ponder what had happened, when suddenly the door to the pub opened. An obnoxiously drunk women stumbled in and began yelling. " OH MY GOD! Everyone come out side!!! This guy is turning the fountain water into wine!” exclaimed the woman.
God and Satan turned to each other and in unison yelled, “Jesus!”
“Jesus Christ, I am sure he is trying to impress some group of women celebrating a bachelorette party or something,” said God in a disappointed tone. “Well Lucifer, I have to go and see what the son of me is getting himself into this time. Remember I am always here for you if you need to talk, and sorry to hear about you losing control in Hell.”
“God, do you think I could tag along and see Jesus? It has been centuries since I have had a chance to see him,” Inquired Satan.
Feeling bad for Satan, God said, “Sure. I do not see the harm in just one glass of wine.”
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Light beer" said the Creator when the bartender finally cast his attention towards the end of the bar.
"Double margarita, extra salt!" snapped the angel who was loved once, above all others.
The Almighty blew air gingerly on the head of his glass, taking a long pull once the foam had subsided. "How are things?"
"How are things? How are things? I mean really." Lucifer sucked a toothpick while considering his drink. "I've been at the DMV all day."
"One of your more inspired creations." God chuckled a little at the thought.
"Well, I'm glad my work meets with your approval. Have you put any thought into my transfer request?"
"Now Lou, we've been over this. You're doing good work down there. It's necessary."
"I don't need you to tell me it's necessary, I know it's necessary. I need a vacation. Or better yet- I want to come back. I'm tired of working down in the basement."
"I can give you some more help down there if you feel you need it?" God put his feet up on the low rail below the bar, wiggling his toes a little as he did so, seemingly delighted with the feel of his REI sandals.
"I don't need anymore help. I've got all the souls of the deceased marketing processionals. The basement is running smoothly. I fill Hell up almost as fast as I can empty it. The point is that I'm tired and.." The Accuser stopped himself, the apology having stalled out on his lips where it had formed and almost been given voice "and it's not fair." he finished weakly.
"It was your idea Lou." The Heavenly Father fished a few peanuts from the bowl along the counter, weighing them in his hand like he was trying to deduce the value of pocket change based solely upon its weight.
"That was a long time ago." The Light Bringer downed his drink in one go "and besides, you don't need me there anymore, not really. The basement almost runs itself by this point"
"We've been over this." God chewed thoughtfully, "We decided that we need someone to mind the operation down there."
"But it's been so long! I just want to come back now."
"Then who would we have to oversea your operation? Who would vet all these souls for entry into Heaven? We can't have those who are not ready gaining entry, it would cause all kinds of problems."
"Well, that guy from American Idol only has a few years left?"
God coughed from around a mouthful of beer.
"Good one Lou. Look, it's good to see you again, but we have been over this all before. Keep up the good work would you."
Satan said nothing, watching in silence as God paid for his beer, adjusted his fanny pack and then strolled out of the bar. Inwardly, he seethed. All the time and effort he had spent fostering reality television had been a long shot, but he wasn't prepared to have his hopes dashed just yet. Besides, there were other plans..there were other ways to find a soul dark enough, embittered enough and so utterly devoid of hope and joy that it would be fit to oversee the day to day operations in hell.
Perhaps it was time to check his other pet project for some likely candidates. The comment section of YouTube was bound to have something. | As God sat among his creations he felt a strange presence engulf the room that no one else seemed to notice. He knew the presence all too well, and ordered an additional drink in preparation. The barkeep finished pouring a draft beer just as the door to the pub opened with slightly more force than normal.
God glanced over and as expected there stood Satan.
"Jesus Christ...of course this is the one time the son of God is late," mumbled God as Satan recognized him in his human form.
The room stood eerily still while the two men starred at each other planning their next moves. Although the pub had an Irish decor and atmosphere, the initial standoff between God and Satan could only be described as a scene from a Spaghetti Western Film.
God knew this could end badly if not handled appropriately and in an effort to maintain universal order he offered an open seat and a beer to Satan.
Begrudgingly, Satan took a seat and sipped his beer and the room returned to normal. His face quickly turned sour as he took the sip. "A Larger? Really? You come to Earth to drink a Yuengling Larger?" Satan clamored.
"Hello Lucifer, it has been far too long. Condescending and ungrateful as usual. How are things in Hell?" asked God.
"God, my name is the Satan, AKA the Devil. You know I hate the name Lucifer. However Hell is okay," Satan said as he took a large swig of his beverage. "The Council of Hell has completely lost it," he said in a disappointed tone.
"I am talking about reckless spending that is not doing anything to benefit the torturing of the trillions of minions of Hell and has essentially gridlocked any expansion efforts to allow the population to increase. Not to mention the brimstone shortage that is causing Hell to cool down at an alarming rate," Satan said.
God looked at Satan in a puzzled manner, "Wait, wait, wait, are you telling me that you set up a democracy in Hell?"
Satan looked at God with a shameful resting face. "Well yeah, it seemed like a great idea at the time, especially with the number of global conflicts occurring. There were just too many people coming to Hell. It all started when my marketing department proposed this incredibly evil campaign to efficiently address the influx of people. It would have offered the souls of the damned eternal representation in Hell. It was loosely based on a democratic model of governing and was flawless at first," explained Satan as he quickly finished his beer.
The barkeep placed a bourbon neat in front of Satan. "How did he know I was going to order a bourbon neat?" asked Satan.
"There are an infinite number of answers to that question, but let’s go with because I am God," chuckled God, "But Lucifer please continue, I have never seen you this discontent with evil."
Satan nodded in agreement as he addressed his beverage. "So like I was saying it was great at first. Establishing a government decreased my work load and allowed me to spend more time corrupting the masses on the Earth. Establishing a government also enslaved the souls of the damned with the greatest of ease and they didn't even realize it. It also allowed them to vote for the most evil people in Hell to represent them in the Council of Hell," explained Satan.
He continued, "The first evil election was great. The most evil people in Hell all won seats on the council. There were certainly those wanna be evil minions like Adolf Eichmann, Maximilien Robespierre, Elizabeth Bathory and so on, but it was a group of the truly evil minions that have caused all this trouble."
God was listened intently as the barkeep brought Satan another bourbon neat.
"It happened in what felt like an instant. A group led by Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler
, and Mao Zedong gathered the support of all on the council to have an evil constitutional convention behind my back. Long story short I am not really in charge of Hell anymore, but more like a spokesman of Hell," Satan said in a bleak voice.
God was astonished at what Satan said. "So the Prime Evil is now a collective of evil beings that overthrew you to establish an even more evil presence in the universe?" God inquired.
"In a nutshell, yes, that is the case," said Satan.
"Oh my me," said God, "Do you know what you have done Satan? You have essentially created something more evil than evil itself," opined God.
Satan finished his drink, "Yes I know exactly what I have done."
The two sat in silence for a moment to ponder what had happened, when suddenly the door to the pub opened. An obnoxiously drunk women stumbled in and began yelling. " OH MY GOD! Everyone come out side!!! This guy is turning the fountain water into wine!” exclaimed the woman.
God and Satan turned to each other and in unison yelled, “Jesus!”
“Jesus Christ, I am sure he is trying to impress some group of women celebrating a bachelorette party or something,” said God in a disappointed tone. “Well Lucifer, I have to go and see what the son of me is getting himself into this time. Remember I am always here for you if you need to talk, and sorry to hear about you losing control in Hell.”
“God, do you think I could tag along and see Jesus? It has been centuries since I have had a chance to see him,” Inquired Satan.
Feeling bad for Satan, God said, “Sure. I do not see the harm in just one glass of wine.”
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Luuuucy, look at you, you haven't changed a bit!" The man who spoke was jovial, and wore a basic white polo shirt over khaki pants. His face was old, but there was something indefinably youthful about his eyes.
"You know I hate that nickname. That joke has never been funny," said the man who was now pulling up a chair next to him at the bar. He waved down the bartender and asked for a whiskey, neat.
"You have to lighten up, my friend. It was just a joke!" The older man took a sip of his drink and put it down on the bar. He looked over at the other man, who was dressed sharply in a dark blue suit, with a soft expression. "Seriously though, Lucifer, it has been too long. How long has it been now?"
The other man, having just gotten his whiskey, took a sip before answering. "Come *on*. The whole all-knowledgeable thing really makes questions like that sound patronizing. You know *exactly* how long it's been."
"Seven hundred and twenty four years, eight months, two weeks and four days."
"Sounds right to me," said Lucifer, with a scowl. He downed the remainder of his drink and waved to the bartender for a refill. "Why do you want to talk now, after all this time?"
"You know why," said the man in white.
"Oh come ON!" The man in blue slammed his fist down on the bar as he said the last word. Almost cartoon-like, and in a way that would have been funny if not for his evident rage, steam seemed to rise from his ears. "We have had this conversation over and over, and I am not changing my mind. *Especially* not now."
The man in white took a deep breath before he spoke. "You have always had such a temper. Granted I created you that way, but I hoped it would be something you would overcome and be stronger because of it." Lucifer started to respond but the man in white spoke over him. "You have such potential in you, Lucifer. I created you to be the Bringer of Light, but you cast it away and took the fall, and for what? Your kingdom of nothing?"
Again, the man in blue seemed about to speak, but a commotion in the corner of the bar interrupted him. A fight had broken out between two very drunk men. They rained blows on each other until they were finally broken up by another group of patrons, and kicked out by the bartender. The scene now over, the man in blue looked back to the man in white. "I would rather have my kingdom of nothing than fall in second to the ones you really love. Those... *humans*." He spit the last work out with disgust, as if he had just swallowed a spider. "You will always love them more."
The man in white looked at him closely, and leaned in so that he could say his next words quietly. "You're right. I will. It isn't for you to agree with or to understand, but just know that I always will." He stood up from his bar stool and left enough cash on the counter to cover both of their drinks, and looked back at Lucifer. "However, that doesn't change the fact that I will *always* forgive you. I will always let you back in if you only ask. It's your choice, my son."
He patted the man in the blue on the shoulder, but Lucifer pulled away. The man in white gave him one final, somber look, and walked away. As he opened the door to leave, a bright light filled the room, but was gone as quickly as it had come.
The man in blue sat alone at the bar, and downed the rest of his drink. "Go to hell," he said under his breath, though if he was talking to the now departed man or to himself, even he did not know. | "Hi, Lucy"
I hate it when He calls me that. "Hi, *bleep*, it's been a while."
"Yup, miss you, the whole gang misses you."
Doubtful, but it's not like the Old Man to lie, against his nature. "That's nice, say hi to the band for me."
"You ready to come home yet?"
"Sure, Pops, just as soon as you move all the squatters out"
He let out a long sigh, took a sip of his wine. Wine in a bar, what a pretentious...
"Lucy, they're my kids too-"
"I... WE... We, we, were your children, we were there from the beginning, helping you." I was getting angry, angrier, if I was being honest... heh.
"I know that Lucy, but I owe it to them, you owe it to them too."
"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about." I start to fidget, I feel sweat rolling down my neck. I take a long sip from my beer. A Bud? Seriously? I choke it down, buying time to think. "So you knew about that?"
He looks at me, laughs. I miss that laugh, we used to laugh all the time. "Of course, a talking snake, really?" Then I notice, His mouth is laughing but His eyes aren't. Last time he got like this it involved a boat and water. So much water. He always did have an anger management problem.
"It's okay, Lucy, it's kinda my fault too..."
"You did put that tree there."
"I did, but..." He lets out a big sigh. A little ceramic cat comes to life. The bartender looks startled, shrugs, keeps on cleaning his glass.
He gets up, puts his hand on my shoulder. Squeezes. And then He hugs me. I want to hug Him back. I want to say sorry. I want to cry into His chest. I want Him to tell me that He loves me, I want...
The bartender coughs, "Hey you two, last call."
He puts some coins on the counter, "So it is." He looks into my eyes, "Come home."
I want to say yes, "No."
He looks sad, impossibly sad. He starts to say something, shrugs, walks out the door.
I sit and finish the rest of my Bud. The bartender keeps cleaning his glass.
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Luuuucy, look at you, you haven't changed a bit!" The man who spoke was jovial, and wore a basic white polo shirt over khaki pants. His face was old, but there was something indefinably youthful about his eyes.
"You know I hate that nickname. That joke has never been funny," said the man who was now pulling up a chair next to him at the bar. He waved down the bartender and asked for a whiskey, neat.
"You have to lighten up, my friend. It was just a joke!" The older man took a sip of his drink and put it down on the bar. He looked over at the other man, who was dressed sharply in a dark blue suit, with a soft expression. "Seriously though, Lucifer, it has been too long. How long has it been now?"
The other man, having just gotten his whiskey, took a sip before answering. "Come *on*. The whole all-knowledgeable thing really makes questions like that sound patronizing. You know *exactly* how long it's been."
"Seven hundred and twenty four years, eight months, two weeks and four days."
"Sounds right to me," said Lucifer, with a scowl. He downed the remainder of his drink and waved to the bartender for a refill. "Why do you want to talk now, after all this time?"
"You know why," said the man in white.
"Oh come ON!" The man in blue slammed his fist down on the bar as he said the last word. Almost cartoon-like, and in a way that would have been funny if not for his evident rage, steam seemed to rise from his ears. "We have had this conversation over and over, and I am not changing my mind. *Especially* not now."
The man in white took a deep breath before he spoke. "You have always had such a temper. Granted I created you that way, but I hoped it would be something you would overcome and be stronger because of it." Lucifer started to respond but the man in white spoke over him. "You have such potential in you, Lucifer. I created you to be the Bringer of Light, but you cast it away and took the fall, and for what? Your kingdom of nothing?"
Again, the man in blue seemed about to speak, but a commotion in the corner of the bar interrupted him. A fight had broken out between two very drunk men. They rained blows on each other until they were finally broken up by another group of patrons, and kicked out by the bartender. The scene now over, the man in blue looked back to the man in white. "I would rather have my kingdom of nothing than fall in second to the ones you really love. Those... *humans*." He spit the last work out with disgust, as if he had just swallowed a spider. "You will always love them more."
The man in white looked at him closely, and leaned in so that he could say his next words quietly. "You're right. I will. It isn't for you to agree with or to understand, but just know that I always will." He stood up from his bar stool and left enough cash on the counter to cover both of their drinks, and looked back at Lucifer. "However, that doesn't change the fact that I will *always* forgive you. I will always let you back in if you only ask. It's your choice, my son."
He patted the man in the blue on the shoulder, but Lucifer pulled away. The man in white gave him one final, somber look, and walked away. As he opened the door to leave, a bright light filled the room, but was gone as quickly as it had come.
The man in blue sat alone at the bar, and downed the rest of his drink. "Go to hell," he said under his breath, though if he was talking to the now departed man or to himself, even he did not know. | As he sat down, Satan smiled. A bottle of Negro Modelo slid down the bar top and came to rest right into his right hand. The suds fizzed and hissed as they rapidly were heated. Satan ran a hair through is blonde short hair as he took a long drain from the bottle.
'He' spoke First.
"Lucy, where have you been?", 'He' said. The bottle warped in Satan's hand. He sat it down and blinked his red eyes. He knew that made him angry. He knew it.
"Oh you know, here and there. Just around the world. Been walking up and down the continents." Satan set the bottle down and motioned to the bartender for another. The bartender examined the bottle, confused. The bottle looked like it had been through a furnace.
'He' spoke again, his words like honey. "You have found many bottles to warp?"
Satan grinned, "Oh many. Nothing that is made stays perfect." His voice laced with contempt.
'He' smiled. "Really? Even Men?"
Satan's grin widened, "Especially Men."
"What if I told you that there was one man you couldn't corrupt." 'He' said.
The air around Satan began to grow dry and hot.
His smile contorted into a frown, "Like Who?"
'He' smiled. "There's this man named Job. Maybe you've heard of him." | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Luuuucy, look at you, you haven't changed a bit!" The man who spoke was jovial, and wore a basic white polo shirt over khaki pants. His face was old, but there was something indefinably youthful about his eyes.
"You know I hate that nickname. That joke has never been funny," said the man who was now pulling up a chair next to him at the bar. He waved down the bartender and asked for a whiskey, neat.
"You have to lighten up, my friend. It was just a joke!" The older man took a sip of his drink and put it down on the bar. He looked over at the other man, who was dressed sharply in a dark blue suit, with a soft expression. "Seriously though, Lucifer, it has been too long. How long has it been now?"
The other man, having just gotten his whiskey, took a sip before answering. "Come *on*. The whole all-knowledgeable thing really makes questions like that sound patronizing. You know *exactly* how long it's been."
"Seven hundred and twenty four years, eight months, two weeks and four days."
"Sounds right to me," said Lucifer, with a scowl. He downed the remainder of his drink and waved to the bartender for a refill. "Why do you want to talk now, after all this time?"
"You know why," said the man in white.
"Oh come ON!" The man in blue slammed his fist down on the bar as he said the last word. Almost cartoon-like, and in a way that would have been funny if not for his evident rage, steam seemed to rise from his ears. "We have had this conversation over and over, and I am not changing my mind. *Especially* not now."
The man in white took a deep breath before he spoke. "You have always had such a temper. Granted I created you that way, but I hoped it would be something you would overcome and be stronger because of it." Lucifer started to respond but the man in white spoke over him. "You have such potential in you, Lucifer. I created you to be the Bringer of Light, but you cast it away and took the fall, and for what? Your kingdom of nothing?"
Again, the man in blue seemed about to speak, but a commotion in the corner of the bar interrupted him. A fight had broken out between two very drunk men. They rained blows on each other until they were finally broken up by another group of patrons, and kicked out by the bartender. The scene now over, the man in blue looked back to the man in white. "I would rather have my kingdom of nothing than fall in second to the ones you really love. Those... *humans*." He spit the last work out with disgust, as if he had just swallowed a spider. "You will always love them more."
The man in white looked at him closely, and leaned in so that he could say his next words quietly. "You're right. I will. It isn't for you to agree with or to understand, but just know that I always will." He stood up from his bar stool and left enough cash on the counter to cover both of their drinks, and looked back at Lucifer. "However, that doesn't change the fact that I will *always* forgive you. I will always let you back in if you only ask. It's your choice, my son."
He patted the man in the blue on the shoulder, but Lucifer pulled away. The man in white gave him one final, somber look, and walked away. As he opened the door to leave, a bright light filled the room, but was gone as quickly as it had come.
The man in blue sat alone at the bar, and downed the rest of his drink. "Go to hell," he said under his breath, though if he was talking to the now departed man or to himself, even he did not know. | A man dressed in a crisp black suit stepped into the bar. He took off his hat and gloves stuffing them into his pocket. "Bit early for a bear, ain't it?"
The man he was talking to - a scraggly, aged man, looking as if he was there to numb himself to the world's plight - spoke back without turning around. "It's five o'clock somewhere." He gestured to his left, promting the other man to steep forward.
The suited man raised his hip, mounting the stool. Even with his straighter posture, he sat a few inches shorter than the bear of a man to his side. "One martini please." He raised his glass after replacing it's vacancy on the table for a twenty. "Thank you, my good man. Keep the change."
"Starting of strong?" Said the hunched man. "That impatience of yours is going to get you into trouble."
"Thats what they all say. The bigger the risk, the bigger the profit."
"What on earth do you need profit for?"
"The novelty, I guess." The suited man stirred his drink with his skewer of olives. "The idea of knowing that I can. I can play their games better than anyone else." He raised the skewer, biting down halfway through an olive with a crunch.
"Don't you get bored?" Said the man, swirling his flattenned beverage. Being who he was, there was no need to fear the reprocussions of indulging. "Surely the 'novelty' as you put will wear off at somepoint."
"I thought so too, but everytime I master a game, these creations of yours craft another. It's all based on the same basic principal of course. I just think they're more like me than you care to admit. Your scars seem to be healing well."
The scraggly man looked to his hands and the scars at on his palms. He gave them a rub. "I hear hell is hot this time of year. Tell me, how are the poor souls you coerced coping with their new living arrangments."
"Yelling and squealing as always," the posh man said with a chuckle, "blaming you of course. I never made them do anything, you see. It's all their own fault."
"I guess that's what I get for giving them the freedom of choice. Sometimes they choose wrong."
"That they do." The man in black raised his glass tilting the rim to his mouth. "They can't all be winners."
"They should be." The scraggly man stood up, emptying his pocket change onto the bar, shrugging when the sum fell short. "What happens when they choose ignorance?"
"Then I guess you can't blame them."
"If I can't blame them, you can't punish them. Can you?"
"I suppose not." Said the suited man, his cheeks losing their rosey color as his grin deflated. "You're not thinking of quitting are you?"
"Just... stepping back. I can't quit now, things are too interesting with you around." The scraggly man shook the cleaner one's shoulder, rocking him back and forth. "One of these days I'll buy back in, if only to see the guy who can't step away from the table."
"I'll ruin them," said the man taking out his gloves again. He fought to force his fingers in the out turned holes. "I'll win every time. I'm the one on the hot streak."
"Oh yes, you're the highest roller there is," said the scruffy man looking iver his shoulder to the door. The snow had started coming down, a blizzard fit to freeze hell over. He tore off his scarf and threw it around his friend, patting it down flat while he struggled with his other glove. "The two of you never can seem to learn."
"I can quit anytime I want," the closest thing the man in black had to a heart leaped into his throat as the older man embraced him. He struggled, but his half clothed self couldn't get away. "Hey! What are you-"
"I sure hope so," The shaggy man release him. As he backed to the door, he threw his hands into his pockets. "Take care of yourself."
First try doing one of these. Maybe typos cause I'm on a mobile. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Luuuucy, look at you, you haven't changed a bit!" The man who spoke was jovial, and wore a basic white polo shirt over khaki pants. His face was old, but there was something indefinably youthful about his eyes.
"You know I hate that nickname. That joke has never been funny," said the man who was now pulling up a chair next to him at the bar. He waved down the bartender and asked for a whiskey, neat.
"You have to lighten up, my friend. It was just a joke!" The older man took a sip of his drink and put it down on the bar. He looked over at the other man, who was dressed sharply in a dark blue suit, with a soft expression. "Seriously though, Lucifer, it has been too long. How long has it been now?"
The other man, having just gotten his whiskey, took a sip before answering. "Come *on*. The whole all-knowledgeable thing really makes questions like that sound patronizing. You know *exactly* how long it's been."
"Seven hundred and twenty four years, eight months, two weeks and four days."
"Sounds right to me," said Lucifer, with a scowl. He downed the remainder of his drink and waved to the bartender for a refill. "Why do you want to talk now, after all this time?"
"You know why," said the man in white.
"Oh come ON!" The man in blue slammed his fist down on the bar as he said the last word. Almost cartoon-like, and in a way that would have been funny if not for his evident rage, steam seemed to rise from his ears. "We have had this conversation over and over, and I am not changing my mind. *Especially* not now."
The man in white took a deep breath before he spoke. "You have always had such a temper. Granted I created you that way, but I hoped it would be something you would overcome and be stronger because of it." Lucifer started to respond but the man in white spoke over him. "You have such potential in you, Lucifer. I created you to be the Bringer of Light, but you cast it away and took the fall, and for what? Your kingdom of nothing?"
Again, the man in blue seemed about to speak, but a commotion in the corner of the bar interrupted him. A fight had broken out between two very drunk men. They rained blows on each other until they were finally broken up by another group of patrons, and kicked out by the bartender. The scene now over, the man in blue looked back to the man in white. "I would rather have my kingdom of nothing than fall in second to the ones you really love. Those... *humans*." He spit the last work out with disgust, as if he had just swallowed a spider. "You will always love them more."
The man in white looked at him closely, and leaned in so that he could say his next words quietly. "You're right. I will. It isn't for you to agree with or to understand, but just know that I always will." He stood up from his bar stool and left enough cash on the counter to cover both of their drinks, and looked back at Lucifer. "However, that doesn't change the fact that I will *always* forgive you. I will always let you back in if you only ask. It's your choice, my son."
He patted the man in the blue on the shoulder, but Lucifer pulled away. The man in white gave him one final, somber look, and walked away. As he opened the door to leave, a bright light filled the room, but was gone as quickly as it had come.
The man in blue sat alone at the bar, and downed the rest of his drink. "Go to hell," he said under his breath, though if he was talking to the now departed man or to himself, even he did not know. | Lucifer appeared taken aback by the seemingly casual offer. Thousands of years, and this is how they meet again. "What do you want?" Lucifer said curtly, refusing to sit.
"Oh, well I was just checking on things, and thought I would drop in on you. It seems like you did a real number on the place." God chuckled to himself slightly, as if thinking of a private joke. "But it looks like even in this you cannot succeed."
The offhandedness, the sheer gall of it. He felt something inside himself break. This was too much. "Enough!" He roared, and a sudden hush fell over the crowded bar.
"Now now, don't make a scene" He said, placidly, which only served to set the Devil off further.
"No! I am done! I am sick and tired of all of this! You threw me out when I wouldn't bend to your will! It tore a piece of me out! It *destroyed* me! And when I came to you, begging your forgiveness, what did you say!?" Tears streamed down Lucifer's angelic face. "You said 'you could not countenance to do my will in heaven, so you must do my will on Earth.' I did your will. For the entirety of the lifetimes of all your creation I worked and I struggled for your approval, doing things I despised."
His arms were shaking as he took deep breaths. His baritone voice dropped to a near whisper as passionate rage turned to cold fury. "No more, Father. I refuse.
"If you want the worst of them purged, do it yourself," he hissed, "because I will not corrupt another one of your creations for your twisted machinations. Heaven isn't worth the hell I give them."
Without waiting for a response, Lucifer summoned as much dignity as he could still muster, then turned on his heel and walked out. God chuckled once more and vanished, and people soon forgot the odd argument between the old man and his son. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "As the snow flies...."
The lyrics to Elvis's song plays in the background, and I see the same lamented and harrowed faces around the bar. I always enjoy coming in at closing time. It's a time where if you are unfortunate enough to still be out and around, your moral belt has slipped to your ankles and you are ready for any penetration.
Societies scum bucket fun time hour I call it. The drunk, the desperate and the depraved. The wicked cruel intentions that fester in this environment is rife with delicious potential.
Tonight is different though. There is a man at the bar, denying he is Steve Jobs to a woman hanging off his shoulder with lustful intent. There is something about him. I feel like I've known him for eternity. I feel like embracing him - and also destroying him. I want to love and throw up intensely. There is only one being that can do that to me, and he is offering me a seat.
I'll indulge him. I sit next to him, and a cold beer slides my way. I've never understood the taste, or enjoyed it - but it's always been the lubricant to hardcore sin, so I take a swig with this in mind.
"This song, you know? It makes me sad. Thoughtful, but sad", the man speaks - in a tone that is both cheery and friendly, but also judgemental and bold.
I swallow the first golden liquid gulp down my mortal vessel's throat. It tastes like glorified cat piss, yet I can help but lick the overspill from the side of my mouth.
"Would you like me to put on some One Direction? That seems more up your alley." I sarcastically say this, with the intention of playing 'Story of my life' for him.
All I see is a grin from him. That stupid wide grin. It's the kind an actor or a salesman gives you to make you feel warm so you can trust what they say. It's such a shit eater grin.
I glance at what he is drinking.
Wine.
This. Guy. Seriously.
"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" He questions earnestly.
"Sure" I scoff. "The being that made life is entitled to ask questions".
"What's your favourite song?"
My brow furrows and I shake my head - take another swing of beer and ponder. It's a stupid question. Of all the questions that could have been asked - why this one? Is there a trick to this? Should I say something intelligent like orchestral? Or should I just say something popular?
"I don't know. Enter Sandman, Metallica".
He takes such a polite sip of his wine again, smiling that damn smile.
What drives me made is that he seems to know everything but still retain such a humble exterior - he is such a rich peasant. What hot can he find from the simple? What good can he see from the worst? It's infuriating.
I take another swig of cat piss, and spitefully splutter it as I ask the same question to him, "What's your favourite song?".
His shit grin again. He thinks - timing the right moment to simply reply ...
"Never gonna give you up - Rick Astley".
Son of a ......... | Red dust swirled in the the door as Satan stepped into the pub. The patrons fell silent save for a few hushed whispers. "Ayy mate you made it!" Yelled God across the room "come sit down". Satan took the stool next to God and sat down gesturing to the barman, "I'll have a pint of export mate". The bartender poured a glass of the chilled larger, he placed it on the bar in front of Satan saying "keep it down yeah?, I don't want any trouble", "don't sweat it mate the big guy here will keep things under control" replied Satan giving God a slap on the back. "He's bloody smashed" sighed the bartender wandering down to the other end of the bar. "How many have you had?" Satan questioned.
"About 30 pints".
"Geez your a lightweight"
"Bugger off"
"Can't hold your bloody piss mate "
"Yeah talk shit, I reckon I could still flog you in a game of pool"
"Your on!" Shouted Satan slapping his empty glass down on the bar, "how about we put a bet on it though?, I'll bet a 20"
"Bigger that mate let's get serious, winner gets the human race for the next hundred years"
The bartender watch them walk across the room to the pool table and sighed "I really need to stop dad from drinking" | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | Part One (part two may follow)
Satan slides smoothly onto the bar stood, letting out a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, unbuttoning his expensive looking jacket.
“It wasn’t hard to find you. A creature of habit and all that” he said.
God glanced across and said nothing, swirling the drink in front of him.
The barman walks over and gestures to Satan “What are you having?” Satan looks down at Gods glass.
“Certainly not a beer" he pushes the bottle further down the bar. "Whatever he is having and get him another, he looks like he needs it” pointing to his right.
“Two double Glenfiddichs coming right up” the barman turns and reaches for the bottle and two glasses.
“Scottish? Nice” Satan said surprised, giving a small chuckle. “Well at least you have good taste, quite fitting given the occasion”
Two glasses arrive on the bar with a clink. “There you go gents”
Satan hands three hundred dollar bills over the bar. “Get yourself a drink my good man” he grins.
Shocked the barman takes the cash smiling “Thank you very much sir”
“Think nothing of it” the dark prince replies as the man returns down the bar.
“He won’t get time to spend it you know” he hissed into his glass. The whisky slides down his throat with ease. God gave a sigh.
“You just couldn’t leave it, you had to say something. You had to come in here and give me a hard time”
Satan turns on his chair to face him, cradling his glass.
“So you’re really going to let it happen?” Tilting and lowering his head trying to make eye contact with God.
“Yep” came the cold, empty reply.
“Wow, that’s low, really low, even for you!” Satan’s face became more animated. He took another drink before continuing.
“Out of all your creations, apparently, one of your favourites but yet you’re doing nothing, not even lift a finger?”
“Aren’t you very astute” came the sharp answer. Satan leaned back pondering the response.
“I honestly don’t get you sometimes. You have looked over them for so long only to abandon them in their greatest moment of need. Do they even know?”
God glances up at the clock. “No, not yet, but they will soon.”
Satan turns back to the bar. “You know I have become very fond of them myself, they amuse me no ends; far more than the others you’ve conjured up over the years. Very ironic don’t you think” He emphasises ‘others’ with a hiss. “How many have been lost now, hmm? Dozens? Hundreds? I haven’t been counting since it began, what about…” God’s glass hits the counter.
“Enough!” a few heads turn before they slowely return to their conversations.
“I know what you’re doing; don’t you think this is hard enough for me? Their fate was sealed a long-time ago” he glared into Satan’s dark eyes.
“Hard? It’s your stupid rule. No serious interventions, remember?”
“It can’t be broken”
“Sealed fate? By another creation they aren’t even aware of?” Satan looked dumfounded. "Hardly fair".
The lights suddenly flicker, a faint rumble like thunder sounds in the distance a few seconds later causing the bottles on the wall to jingle ever so slightly. A few patrons stop their conversation to question what it was, some move towards the door.
“Times ticking, I mean I’d do something if I could but I don’t have the privilege, that’s your honour” he taps his designer watch and gives God a smirk and finishes his drink.
“I can’t”
Satan moves in close to God, face to face. “Then don’t break the rules, bend them, throw them a chance, give them an opportunity to do something” he whispers. God looks at him, the internal struggle clear to see. Another flicker of the lights is accompanied by a far stronger rumble, a glass breaks somewhere, a bottle falls of the shelf, neither pay attention. More people get up and run out of the bar into the street as the sounds and shakes continue.
Satan sits up and fixes his jacket. “You know I was the last one I would have expected to plead their case, maybe I like them more than I think” he chuckles to himself “They have a way of doing that to you, don’t they?” He looks around the bar. “Well I best be on my way, it was nice talking to” He gives a grin as God looks at him knowing Satan has done what he does best. The lighters flicker off returning a second later. God is now sitting alone in the bar.
He knocks back the last of his Whisky savouring the taste.
“Very well”
| Red dust swirled in the the door as Satan stepped into the pub. The patrons fell silent save for a few hushed whispers. "Ayy mate you made it!" Yelled God across the room "come sit down". Satan took the stool next to God and sat down gesturing to the barman, "I'll have a pint of export mate". The bartender poured a glass of the chilled larger, he placed it on the bar in front of Satan saying "keep it down yeah?, I don't want any trouble", "don't sweat it mate the big guy here will keep things under control" replied Satan giving God a slap on the back. "He's bloody smashed" sighed the bartender wandering down to the other end of the bar. "How many have you had?" Satan questioned.
"About 30 pints".
"Geez your a lightweight"
"Bugger off"
"Can't hold your bloody piss mate "
"Yeah talk shit, I reckon I could still flog you in a game of pool"
"Your on!" Shouted Satan slapping his empty glass down on the bar, "how about we put a bet on it though?, I'll bet a 20"
"Bigger that mate let's get serious, winner gets the human race for the next hundred years"
The bartender watch them walk across the room to the pool table and sighed "I really need to stop dad from drinking" | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Light beer" said the Creator when the bartender finally cast his attention towards the end of the bar.
"Double margarita, extra salt!" snapped the angel who was loved once, above all others.
The Almighty blew air gingerly on the head of his glass, taking a long pull once the foam had subsided. "How are things?"
"How are things? How are things? I mean really." Lucifer sucked a toothpick while considering his drink. "I've been at the DMV all day."
"One of your more inspired creations." God chuckled a little at the thought.
"Well, I'm glad my work meets with your approval. Have you put any thought into my transfer request?"
"Now Lou, we've been over this. You're doing good work down there. It's necessary."
"I don't need you to tell me it's necessary, I know it's necessary. I need a vacation. Or better yet- I want to come back. I'm tired of working down in the basement."
"I can give you some more help down there if you feel you need it?" God put his feet up on the low rail below the bar, wiggling his toes a little as he did so, seemingly delighted with the feel of his REI sandals.
"I don't need anymore help. I've got all the souls of the deceased marketing processionals. The basement is running smoothly. I fill Hell up almost as fast as I can empty it. The point is that I'm tired and.." The Accuser stopped himself, the apology having stalled out on his lips where it had formed and almost been given voice "and it's not fair." he finished weakly.
"It was your idea Lou." The Heavenly Father fished a few peanuts from the bowl along the counter, weighing them in his hand like he was trying to deduce the value of pocket change based solely upon its weight.
"That was a long time ago." The Light Bringer downed his drink in one go "and besides, you don't need me there anymore, not really. The basement almost runs itself by this point"
"We've been over this." God chewed thoughtfully, "We decided that we need someone to mind the operation down there."
"But it's been so long! I just want to come back now."
"Then who would we have to oversea your operation? Who would vet all these souls for entry into Heaven? We can't have those who are not ready gaining entry, it would cause all kinds of problems."
"Well, that guy from American Idol only has a few years left?"
God coughed from around a mouthful of beer.
"Good one Lou. Look, it's good to see you again, but we have been over this all before. Keep up the good work would you."
Satan said nothing, watching in silence as God paid for his beer, adjusted his fanny pack and then strolled out of the bar. Inwardly, he seethed. All the time and effort he had spent fostering reality television had been a long shot, but he wasn't prepared to have his hopes dashed just yet. Besides, there were other plans..there were other ways to find a soul dark enough, embittered enough and so utterly devoid of hope and joy that it would be fit to oversee the day to day operations in hell.
Perhaps it was time to check his other pet project for some likely candidates. The comment section of YouTube was bound to have something. | Red dust swirled in the the door as Satan stepped into the pub. The patrons fell silent save for a few hushed whispers. "Ayy mate you made it!" Yelled God across the room "come sit down". Satan took the stool next to God and sat down gesturing to the barman, "I'll have a pint of export mate". The bartender poured a glass of the chilled larger, he placed it on the bar in front of Satan saying "keep it down yeah?, I don't want any trouble", "don't sweat it mate the big guy here will keep things under control" replied Satan giving God a slap on the back. "He's bloody smashed" sighed the bartender wandering down to the other end of the bar. "How many have you had?" Satan questioned.
"About 30 pints".
"Geez your a lightweight"
"Bugger off"
"Can't hold your bloody piss mate "
"Yeah talk shit, I reckon I could still flog you in a game of pool"
"Your on!" Shouted Satan slapping his empty glass down on the bar, "how about we put a bet on it though?, I'll bet a 20"
"Bigger that mate let's get serious, winner gets the human race for the next hundred years"
The bartender watch them walk across the room to the pool table and sighed "I really need to stop dad from drinking" | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Light beer" said the Creator when the bartender finally cast his attention towards the end of the bar.
"Double margarita, extra salt!" snapped the angel who was loved once, above all others.
The Almighty blew air gingerly on the head of his glass, taking a long pull once the foam had subsided. "How are things?"
"How are things? How are things? I mean really." Lucifer sucked a toothpick while considering his drink. "I've been at the DMV all day."
"One of your more inspired creations." God chuckled a little at the thought.
"Well, I'm glad my work meets with your approval. Have you put any thought into my transfer request?"
"Now Lou, we've been over this. You're doing good work down there. It's necessary."
"I don't need you to tell me it's necessary, I know it's necessary. I need a vacation. Or better yet- I want to come back. I'm tired of working down in the basement."
"I can give you some more help down there if you feel you need it?" God put his feet up on the low rail below the bar, wiggling his toes a little as he did so, seemingly delighted with the feel of his REI sandals.
"I don't need anymore help. I've got all the souls of the deceased marketing processionals. The basement is running smoothly. I fill Hell up almost as fast as I can empty it. The point is that I'm tired and.." The Accuser stopped himself, the apology having stalled out on his lips where it had formed and almost been given voice "and it's not fair." he finished weakly.
"It was your idea Lou." The Heavenly Father fished a few peanuts from the bowl along the counter, weighing them in his hand like he was trying to deduce the value of pocket change based solely upon its weight.
"That was a long time ago." The Light Bringer downed his drink in one go "and besides, you don't need me there anymore, not really. The basement almost runs itself by this point"
"We've been over this." God chewed thoughtfully, "We decided that we need someone to mind the operation down there."
"But it's been so long! I just want to come back now."
"Then who would we have to oversea your operation? Who would vet all these souls for entry into Heaven? We can't have those who are not ready gaining entry, it would cause all kinds of problems."
"Well, that guy from American Idol only has a few years left?"
God coughed from around a mouthful of beer.
"Good one Lou. Look, it's good to see you again, but we have been over this all before. Keep up the good work would you."
Satan said nothing, watching in silence as God paid for his beer, adjusted his fanny pack and then strolled out of the bar. Inwardly, he seethed. All the time and effort he had spent fostering reality television had been a long shot, but he wasn't prepared to have his hopes dashed just yet. Besides, there were other plans..there were other ways to find a soul dark enough, embittered enough and so utterly devoid of hope and joy that it would be fit to oversee the day to day operations in hell.
Perhaps it was time to check his other pet project for some likely candidates. The comment section of YouTube was bound to have something. | A peculiar thing happened the other day. Quite possibly the most peculiar thing to have ever happened in the history of ever. Let me explain…
It was four in the morning and I was just outside of Nevada. Some old shack of a bar fashioned from the remains of an old wooden caravan. I’d stopped for a few hours to rest my weary eyes from a hypnotic desert drive. There was only one other patron; a sweet faced, almost angelic older fellow reading at the bar. He was sipping what I assumed to be whisky, and had an unopened beer beside him. "Who in the name of God could he be waiting for out here?” I thought to myself. Just then, almost in response to my thoughts, a disheveled yet devilishly handsome young man steps through the door, and without missing a step takes a seat next to the old man.
“have we met before?” cheekily asks the handsome drifter as he takes a seat.
the old man gives him a warm smile, rises from his stool and extends his arms out on either side, waiting to receive the younger man in his embrace. begrudgingly, the young man accepts this greeting, and the two return to their stools. “such a cavalier greeting, even for you.” says the younger one. "Not sure how I feel about this look though, Old man.” the Old man slides the now open beer to the young man before responding. “would you rather have me young, attractive, and fetching for the attention of all that may gaze upon me? No, remember I come here to observe; this…” he motions toward himself. “…is observant; easily unnoticed and it doesn’t warrant attention.” The young man takes a second to look his elder up and down once more. “ You look like a desert santa clause.” the young man bursts into laughter, in uproar over his own silly joke. “Be that as it may, our chosen aesthetic is not the topic of conversation this morning.” replies the old man. “ alright then SIR, what is it you’d wish to talk about this time. My petty sins perhaps? Maybe my recent involvance in the American presidential election? Even you can’t deny this Trump guy is great.” “No, that is not wh—.” “Oh, don’t tell me it’s the same old song and dance about how much you disapprove of my time here? Look, Ive told you time and ti—.”
“Talitha is dead.” solemnly interjects the older man.
Before I continue, id like to mention that at this point, neither of the two had seemed to notice me, or if they had, didn’t bother to care that i was listening. This is important because the contents of their proceeding conversation would make anyone question…pretty much everything.
The room seemed to pause, as if the air itself had been stifled and ordered to participate in a moment of silence for this “Talitha.”
whatever cavalier attitude the young man entered with had been washed away by the old mans statement. “I’m sorry, truly. How old?” “ninety-two.” responded the old man. “ninety-two is a nice age.” says the young man." At that point it becomes a chore; living….*sigh* nothing I’m going to say will help though. Time is and will be the only way it gets better, as always. Unless you intervene…. Will you ever intervene?” “Never, endings make the beginning mean something.” answered the old man curtly. “It had been twenty four years since I last spoke to her. I told her id be waiting for her, one last comforting thought." the old man chuckled to himself. "Dammit old timer, how many times will it take before you stop getting involved with women down here? Does your omnipotence not protect you from making the same mistakes over and over again? And what about her? She, if no one else, deserved more.” The old man pauses before speaking, then smiled warmly at the young man. "Love was never your strong suit, but i don’t doubt you have some form of it somewhere in you." The young man rises from his stool, clearly upset by the old mans last statement. "I’m glad that you came, I’ll be returning home this evening. Before you go, I want to ask you if you would allow Talitha’s remembrance to remain with you?” The young man, now halfway across the room stops his stride and utters a faint “yes” before disappearing into the desert from whence he came.
“I knew you were here.” said the man, now sitting across from me. “Oh, sorry I must have dozed off, i didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your conversation by the way, hard not to listen in a place so small.” I mumbled, half asleep. “He didn’t” the old man throws his thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “Too caught up in himself I suppose. Good thing, for you that is, such knowledge you’ve been privy to this morning! Had he been aware of your presence, you’d have been enslaved for eternity!” My words caught in my throat. “A joke, Mason. You should be plenty rested by now, off to Vegas with you, don’t disappoint me by not disappointing me while you’re there!” words begin to drip from my mouth “uhh, yea, don’t disappoint, got it. Not sure how I feel right now, anything you can say to maybe relieve this existential crisis Im having?” The Old man laughs “No unfortunately, you’re smart enough to acknowledge a higher power. err— you are now that is. I ask you only one thing, the girl that my friend and I discussed, keep that a secret, yea? If you don’t, Ill smite you where you stand.” the sentence seemed to resonate in my head like a gong. I hesitated for a moment, reeling from the levity of this mornings events. “Uh, sir…God, i guess… Of all the questions I could ask, I only would like to know one thing, and that is, who was she, and why did you want your friend to have her?” God gave me the same warm smile he gave what I assume was Satan. “She was my daughter, and as for why I wanted him to have her, well, Talitha will remain a physical rememberence in the afterlife, a statue of a young girl in this case. I can’t bear to see that for eternity, but I think that he could, and although he might not admit it, Id say he would rather enjoy it." God looked around the small weathered tavern with a satisfied look upon his face and took a final sip from his glass. "But alas, i must be off, been here a good hundred years of so, getting kind of homesick to be honest. Good morning Mason, use HANGOVER HEAVEN for all of your morning after needs and good luck with your sins."
I awoke again, this time in what I’m assuming was my hotel room in Vegas, short on the details of last night, and suffering a headache from what seemed like hell itself. My hotel room was clean, immaculate even, as if I had arrived already asleep. The only thing that seemed out of place was a metal dish on the floor with a single card resting in the middle of it. It read…
HANGOVER HEAVEN
headache from hell?
come experience a resurrection of relaxation
702-555-1122
p.s. don’t get smitten | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | My favourite bar, the one place left on earth that hadn't been reached by her touch. It was the smell, brought me back to the early days before everything turned. The bartender John been there for 50years i liked that, i may have influenced his lifespan to keep this going. Not that he recognises me, it's more fun to change my form everytime. Be someone different, new story new life...guess im tired of it all.
John interrupts my chain of thoughts, unlike him he's been doing this long enough to let men drown in their sorrows "From the ladie across the bar" as he passes me a cold beer. I dislike beer. I'd been ordering whiskey all night, John was a better bartender than this something was amiss. Then it hit me the smell... like fucking roses. The smell enters my brain, i can't help but search for the scent and there it is. Coming from the prettiest thing this bar has ever seen one of the finest in all creation, exactly her style. She didn't like to be subtle, enjoyed being noticed. Made her work easier spos. I wasn't surprised i didn't notice her, she probably wanted to put on a show.
I quickly pass the beer to the guy next to me.
"Thanks mate" he exclaimed. Australians always make me laugh, not the brightest bunch on the planet but always good for a laugh.
Be damned if i'm drinking her goodfaith offering. Disappeared for 153 years and expects bygones to be bygones.
I ignore her.
I look back down at my whiskey almost empty. I look up John, John's eyes are glazed over, the roses have gotten to him weak willed mortals so easily tempted. Sigh...
The whiskey starts to fill on its own, her.
The smell gets stronger, by the time i turn my head she's already sitting next to me...
"Funny seeing you here" she opens with.
"You knew exactly where i'd be. What do you want? Haven't you taken enough?"
"I've taken nothing." A faint smile appears, she's enjoying this...
"Look at the world you've left. The humans run wild. No regard for sin or punishment. Heaven hasn't had a soul in years. Even children the symbol of innocence are sent to hell. Much longer and heaven will fall. The balance will be tipped." The words don't reach her all but smile remains on her face.
I go to leave "You've forgotten what we started" this time shes looking at me not through me. "You've forgotten why we separated in the beginning, one "good" one "evil", it's all been for nothing. Goodbye i don't like we will see each other again." I walk out the door. All is lost.
As the door closes behind me her voice enters my mind. "Good bye Satan. Everything is mine."
"To hell it is" | The air filled his lungs.
The pressure was uncomfortable against his full gut. Pizza was always like that. Of course, beer didn’t help.
Not that it really mattered. The whole thing was an angst of the physical. He’d be rid of it soon enough. But it was good enough to get to know his creations. The pains were… subtle.
Relatively speaking.
Cancers, and parasites. Those were a pain. Even acknowledging them in human form was enough to make him want to drink.
Not that he’d had a choice. Omniscience price was, well, omniscience.
Thank him the drink had at least some effect. Not a total one, I mean, there’s not a chance that the Creator will forget the night, but, he can get some interference now and again.
He looked into the mirror behind the bar and was suddenly overtaken with mortality. He’d never have to worry about it, certainly, but someone clearly was. As the tear dropped down his eye he hoped they’d understand the nature of it someday. By which he meant they’d certainly have to, but that they might before it was absolutely unequivocal. Not that he didn’t already know.
Dust always smelled nice in this form. Must. Age. The things that indicated dilapidation. The sort that you simply wouldn’t find in paradise.
“maybe i missed the mark on that”
Wind happened, though, and it was a sort of cross barrier pleasantness. Except when it wasn’t. Which only meant one of two things.
Looking up, it was number 1.
Describing the view of an omniscient intelligence is a funny thing. It doesn’t miss anything, by any means. It does, however, have a tendency to fog out the present for the future. It’s a sort of temporary fuck off. Like getting drunk for mortals. They know that last night happened, but they don’t know what until their friends let them in. Except in this case the friend is your own mind, and it simply won’t let you forget. Or, rather, it simply won’t let you NOT know something. Fucking asshat.
It didn’t let him in on the hint just yet.
He offered a beer to the new comer.
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | When he beckoned me over, I instantly forgot my grudge, call me crazy but just seeing him after so long made me feel good inside. I sat next to him and looked forward at the bottles on the shelves, I smiled noting that I had helped to create several of them. I took the beer bottle into my hand and drank it knowing God's eyes were scanning over me. I didn't know what to say.
He pat me on the back and said "Have you played shake-a-day yet?" as he placed two quarters on the counter, I retorted with "You know everything so you know I haven't..." he smiled "Good good!" he waved the bartender over a young beautiful heroine addict, one of mine, she was dressed with a fiery red scarf and a bandana on her forehead. As she drew near he said "Two shake-a-days please." she took a couple of steps back and grabbed the dice cup and put it in front of him. "5 of a kind wins the pot, 4 of a kind wins you a 6 pack, 3 of a kind a free drink" she rattled off. He pushed the cup towards me and said "You first" without thinking I took the cup put the dice in my hand rolled them around then put them back in shook'em up a few times and poured them out on the table. 3 6 2 6 6 were the numbers on the dice "Triple six, free drink," the bartender said "what will you be having?" she smiled "Another of the kind I have here." I looked down noticing I was drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon a fine beverage.
God grinned and muttered "Your old numbers." he scooped up the dice and loaded them into the cup shook several times and rolled, one die fell off the counter. "Sorry." God said sincerely as the bartender reached to pick up the die placing it on the table saying "Reroll." God rolled again 4 5 1 2 1. "Better luck next time." she said as she carried the dice cup and two quarters away "Let me know when you're ready for your free one." the bartender said as she went to help other customers on the far side of the bar. " To paraphrase Einstein "God doesn't play dice" he should have added "Because he is not very good at it"." God joked. I grinned as I chugged my PBR, I wasn't sure why he arranged this meeting but I was genuinely enjoying myself. We babbled on getting drunker and drunker through the night, we had mind blowing talks, when it was last call we went and strolled in a park and continued our talks, he never brought up anything that happened and neither did I. I woke up the next morning in my hotel room, the whole experience felt surreal and dreamlike. I'm not sure I'll ever understand his reasoning for talking to me, but I suspect he might have been lonely and nostalgic. Though I still hold a grudge and always will, it felt good to talk to him again after all these years. | The air filled his lungs.
The pressure was uncomfortable against his full gut. Pizza was always like that. Of course, beer didn’t help.
Not that it really mattered. The whole thing was an angst of the physical. He’d be rid of it soon enough. But it was good enough to get to know his creations. The pains were… subtle.
Relatively speaking.
Cancers, and parasites. Those were a pain. Even acknowledging them in human form was enough to make him want to drink.
Not that he’d had a choice. Omniscience price was, well, omniscience.
Thank him the drink had at least some effect. Not a total one, I mean, there’s not a chance that the Creator will forget the night, but, he can get some interference now and again.
He looked into the mirror behind the bar and was suddenly overtaken with mortality. He’d never have to worry about it, certainly, but someone clearly was. As the tear dropped down his eye he hoped they’d understand the nature of it someday. By which he meant they’d certainly have to, but that they might before it was absolutely unequivocal. Not that he didn’t already know.
Dust always smelled nice in this form. Must. Age. The things that indicated dilapidation. The sort that you simply wouldn’t find in paradise.
“maybe i missed the mark on that”
Wind happened, though, and it was a sort of cross barrier pleasantness. Except when it wasn’t. Which only meant one of two things.
Looking up, it was number 1.
Describing the view of an omniscient intelligence is a funny thing. It doesn’t miss anything, by any means. It does, however, have a tendency to fog out the present for the future. It’s a sort of temporary fuck off. Like getting drunk for mortals. They know that last night happened, but they don’t know what until their friends let them in. Except in this case the friend is your own mind, and it simply won’t let you forget. Or, rather, it simply won’t let you NOT know something. Fucking asshat.
It didn’t let him in on the hint just yet.
He offered a beer to the new comer.
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | In a quiet little no name town right off a half abandoned freeway yet squarely located in the middle of nowhere, an old neon sign buzzed and flickered weakly as more light was reflected in than made it though the dirty window.
Dust covered everything. Not exactly sand, though the place was a desert. It was much too fine to be sand, and the slightest bit of wind could kick up a cloud of dust thick enough to choke out the sun.
So it was no surprise to anyone when an eighteen wheeler took the exit with the long forgotten number, rolled into the parking lot of the town’s only public building and was swallowed by a large cloud of the ultra fine dust.
“This place use to be an ocean. Fucking sand everywhere. Use to be all kinds of life here. Just a fucking desert now.”
The cursing continued as he waited for the dust to settle.
He was a tall and lanky man with smooth featured made sharp by age and rough living.
He left the truck running as he went inside and took a seat the bar.
The building served as the post office, city hall, the fire department, grocery store, restaurant, service station, pool hall, and when needed the sheriff would empty the supply closet and it served as the jail. The locals where nothing, if not resourceful.
“Fucking hate this place. No idea why he comes here. Fucking desert. Fucking sand.” The cursing trailed off as the bar keep approached. “What can i get you?”
The trucker threw a twenty on the bar. “Two beers and whatever the cook wants to make.”
The bar keep frowned slightly, but the twenty disappeared into his apron and he produced two lukewarm long necks before ducking to the back.
The old trucker grunted as he took a swig. “Fucking nasty Coors. Might as well be piss water.”
The bar, for that’s what was needed of the building right now, was empty of patrons except for the old trucker, and it would be a while before the locals started showing up. So when the door opened again, the keep was somewhat surprised and poked his head though the kitchen door just long enough the see the second man wave him away.
The old trucker was not surprised. In fact he seemed to be expecting the other person. “Already got you a beer. Come take a seat.” He gestured to his left as he set the beer out.
The second man was quite the contrast. Young, fit with a round face, and neatly groomed hair and goatee. His slacks, vest, and impeccably clean dress shirt made him stand out amongst the dust covered interior.
“Dear Lord you look a mess. I do say, I’ll never understand your sense of tastes.”
The old trucker took a sip of beer, “I’m not your lord anymore. Your little punk ass tried to take over my throne. I threw you out so you might learn something, then you just piss all over my garden. Your brother is still there guarding the gate. He’s going to be there a long ass time too thanks to you.”
The second man grimaced as he took a sip of his beer. “Well, I will not get into what happened over the throne. But the garden, That was an act of mercy. You made the humans dumb and left them naked without even the knowledge to defend themselves. If anything I improved your garden.”
The old trucker scowled and took another sip. “You corrupted them is what you fucking did and you damn well know it.”
The bar keep appeared suddenly with a plate of greasy fish and chips, and nearly threw it on the bar before disappearing into the back again.
Both the trucker and the second man raised an eyebrow at the dish.
“Are we not in a desert? Wherever did they get fish?”
The old trucker poked one of the fillets. “I admit, they are pretty fucking resourceful.”
The second man choked down a second sip of his beer. “Well, I do hope you enjoy your vacation. I am off to ‘corrupt’ some more souls.”
The old trucker stuffed a fillet in his mouth. “Like I give a fuck. I just came here to tell you we’re about to break the seals. So you and all your punk ass fallen angels need to get ready to rot in hell.”
Shock, fear, surprise, anticipation, disgust, and maybe even a touch of excitement washed over the second man as he took a third final sip.
“Well then. I guess me and my disgraced brethren will have to pull double duty.”
He set the beer down and headed for the door. He vanished before he made it though, leaving the old trucker at the bar alone.
The trucker took another bite, and promptly half vomited, half spit the fillet out. “Fuck me that's nasty. Who the fuck serves fish in the middle of the fucking desert? Fucking corrupted humans. that’s who. Had everything fucking set in the damn garden.”
The cursing continued as he took another sip of lukewarm beer and another bite of greasy fish fillet.
(This is actually the first thing I've written that I've shared with anyone. Feed back is welcome and appreciated.) | The air filled his lungs.
The pressure was uncomfortable against his full gut. Pizza was always like that. Of course, beer didn’t help.
Not that it really mattered. The whole thing was an angst of the physical. He’d be rid of it soon enough. But it was good enough to get to know his creations. The pains were… subtle.
Relatively speaking.
Cancers, and parasites. Those were a pain. Even acknowledging them in human form was enough to make him want to drink.
Not that he’d had a choice. Omniscience price was, well, omniscience.
Thank him the drink had at least some effect. Not a total one, I mean, there’s not a chance that the Creator will forget the night, but, he can get some interference now and again.
He looked into the mirror behind the bar and was suddenly overtaken with mortality. He’d never have to worry about it, certainly, but someone clearly was. As the tear dropped down his eye he hoped they’d understand the nature of it someday. By which he meant they’d certainly have to, but that they might before it was absolutely unequivocal. Not that he didn’t already know.
Dust always smelled nice in this form. Must. Age. The things that indicated dilapidation. The sort that you simply wouldn’t find in paradise.
“maybe i missed the mark on that”
Wind happened, though, and it was a sort of cross barrier pleasantness. Except when it wasn’t. Which only meant one of two things.
Looking up, it was number 1.
Describing the view of an omniscient intelligence is a funny thing. It doesn’t miss anything, by any means. It does, however, have a tendency to fog out the present for the future. It’s a sort of temporary fuck off. Like getting drunk for mortals. They know that last night happened, but they don’t know what until their friends let them in. Except in this case the friend is your own mind, and it simply won’t let you forget. Or, rather, it simply won’t let you NOT know something. Fucking asshat.
It didn’t let him in on the hint just yet.
He offered a beer to the new comer.
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | He smiled at me. That same smile that I remembered from the old days. Nothing but warmth thinly veiling a vast ocean of rage that could spout out at a moments notice. At least he had calmed down quite a lot since the beginning. Having a kid really mellowed him out.
I sat down. Putting my hat on the bar next to me. "So, given who you are you have known since you created...everything that we would meet here. And since I literally cannot do anything to oppose you lets get this over with yes? What do you want." I hated playing this part. This great corruption in his design, but it was required.
"I'm bored" he said with a deep sigh. One that could only come from a being that had literally seen every possible birth and death of every possible thing in all of creation. "I've made everything, I even tried turning off my omnipotence for a while but...I have nothing to do anymore. I created every star in the universe, every species and planet the cosmos will ever know."
"And?" I asked, taking a sip of my drink, he always knew exactly what I wanted to order. He knew this would happen from the moment he came into being. Knowing everything has serious drawbacks. Not the least of which was that he could always find me to hash out his depression.
"And...I want to start over. Like I did with Noah, only maybe less incest this time. Create a new cosmos, a new universe. Maybe Ill make physics more flexible or something". This thought always cheered him up.
"Remember what the council said. You leave to a new universe this one dies. You expand too far, this one dies. You would literally be killing, fuck, its got to be even higher than trillions at this point, countless lives just because you're bored. And I can't keep playing your therapist, you kicked me out, we are supposed to be enemies."
"That's only what the small minded ones think. I can't stand them anymore, I thought letting them know me would be a good idea, the blood sacrifice, and everything would be okay..."
"Liar, you knew from the beginning it never would."
He sighed again. "Yeah I suppose. But I...I cant keep going like this. I need something new. Something I could never see coming."
"Careful what you wish for." I stand up. I know we are done talking just as he does. I pay the tab. I always pay the tab.
Once upon a time these visits from him were pretty infrequent. But what else can I do. A creator level being with depression cannot just be ignored and this one was turned loose to create his own world far too early, even the council knew that now. A failed experiment, one false move from him and everything in this reality would be gone in an instant.
What can I say I felt bad for all the sentient species He had made. So I stuck around. Of course the council offered me my own space but I just couldn't bring myself to abandon this one.
I patted him on the back, and stepped outside. I stared up into the night sky. Glad that this young species had yet to invent lights.
The stars were always my favorites of his. | The air filled his lungs.
The pressure was uncomfortable against his full gut. Pizza was always like that. Of course, beer didn’t help.
Not that it really mattered. The whole thing was an angst of the physical. He’d be rid of it soon enough. But it was good enough to get to know his creations. The pains were… subtle.
Relatively speaking.
Cancers, and parasites. Those were a pain. Even acknowledging them in human form was enough to make him want to drink.
Not that he’d had a choice. Omniscience price was, well, omniscience.
Thank him the drink had at least some effect. Not a total one, I mean, there’s not a chance that the Creator will forget the night, but, he can get some interference now and again.
He looked into the mirror behind the bar and was suddenly overtaken with mortality. He’d never have to worry about it, certainly, but someone clearly was. As the tear dropped down his eye he hoped they’d understand the nature of it someday. By which he meant they’d certainly have to, but that they might before it was absolutely unequivocal. Not that he didn’t already know.
Dust always smelled nice in this form. Must. Age. The things that indicated dilapidation. The sort that you simply wouldn’t find in paradise.
“maybe i missed the mark on that”
Wind happened, though, and it was a sort of cross barrier pleasantness. Except when it wasn’t. Which only meant one of two things.
Looking up, it was number 1.
Describing the view of an omniscient intelligence is a funny thing. It doesn’t miss anything, by any means. It does, however, have a tendency to fog out the present for the future. It’s a sort of temporary fuck off. Like getting drunk for mortals. They know that last night happened, but they don’t know what until their friends let them in. Except in this case the friend is your own mind, and it simply won’t let you forget. Or, rather, it simply won’t let you NOT know something. Fucking asshat.
It didn’t let him in on the hint just yet.
He offered a beer to the new comer.
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | Part One (part two may follow)
Satan slides smoothly onto the bar stood, letting out a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, unbuttoning his expensive looking jacket.
“It wasn’t hard to find you. A creature of habit and all that” he said.
God glanced across and said nothing, swirling the drink in front of him.
The barman walks over and gestures to Satan “What are you having?” Satan looks down at Gods glass.
“Certainly not a beer" he pushes the bottle further down the bar. "Whatever he is having and get him another, he looks like he needs it” pointing to his right.
“Two double Glenfiddichs coming right up” the barman turns and reaches for the bottle and two glasses.
“Scottish? Nice” Satan said surprised, giving a small chuckle. “Well at least you have good taste, quite fitting given the occasion”
Two glasses arrive on the bar with a clink. “There you go gents”
Satan hands three hundred dollar bills over the bar. “Get yourself a drink my good man” he grins.
Shocked the barman takes the cash smiling “Thank you very much sir”
“Think nothing of it” the dark prince replies as the man returns down the bar.
“He won’t get time to spend it you know” he hissed into his glass. The whisky slides down his throat with ease. God gave a sigh.
“You just couldn’t leave it, you had to say something. You had to come in here and give me a hard time”
Satan turns on his chair to face him, cradling his glass.
“So you’re really going to let it happen?” Tilting and lowering his head trying to make eye contact with God.
“Yep” came the cold, empty reply.
“Wow, that’s low, really low, even for you!” Satan’s face became more animated. He took another drink before continuing.
“Out of all your creations, apparently, one of your favourites but yet you’re doing nothing, not even lift a finger?”
“Aren’t you very astute” came the sharp answer. Satan leaned back pondering the response.
“I honestly don’t get you sometimes. You have looked over them for so long only to abandon them in their greatest moment of need. Do they even know?”
God glances up at the clock. “No, not yet, but they will soon.”
Satan turns back to the bar. “You know I have become very fond of them myself, they amuse me no ends; far more than the others you’ve conjured up over the years. Very ironic don’t you think” He emphasises ‘others’ with a hiss. “How many have been lost now, hmm? Dozens? Hundreds? I haven’t been counting since it began, what about…” God’s glass hits the counter.
“Enough!” a few heads turn before they slowely return to their conversations.
“I know what you’re doing; don’t you think this is hard enough for me? Their fate was sealed a long-time ago” he glared into Satan’s dark eyes.
“Hard? It’s your stupid rule. No serious interventions, remember?”
“It can’t be broken”
“Sealed fate? By another creation they aren’t even aware of?” Satan looked dumfounded. "Hardly fair".
The lights suddenly flicker, a faint rumble like thunder sounds in the distance a few seconds later causing the bottles on the wall to jingle ever so slightly. A few patrons stop their conversation to question what it was, some move towards the door.
“Times ticking, I mean I’d do something if I could but I don’t have the privilege, that’s your honour” he taps his designer watch and gives God a smirk and finishes his drink.
“I can’t”
Satan moves in close to God, face to face. “Then don’t break the rules, bend them, throw them a chance, give them an opportunity to do something” he whispers. God looks at him, the internal struggle clear to see. Another flicker of the lights is accompanied by a far stronger rumble, a glass breaks somewhere, a bottle falls of the shelf, neither pay attention. More people get up and run out of the bar into the street as the sounds and shakes continue.
Satan sits up and fixes his jacket. “You know I was the last one I would have expected to plead their case, maybe I like them more than I think” he chuckles to himself “They have a way of doing that to you, don’t they?” He looks around the bar. “Well I best be on my way, it was nice talking to” He gives a grin as God looks at him knowing Satan has done what he does best. The lighters flicker off returning a second later. God is now sitting alone in the bar.
He knocks back the last of his Whisky savouring the taste.
“Very well”
| The air filled his lungs.
The pressure was uncomfortable against his full gut. Pizza was always like that. Of course, beer didn’t help.
Not that it really mattered. The whole thing was an angst of the physical. He’d be rid of it soon enough. But it was good enough to get to know his creations. The pains were… subtle.
Relatively speaking.
Cancers, and parasites. Those were a pain. Even acknowledging them in human form was enough to make him want to drink.
Not that he’d had a choice. Omniscience price was, well, omniscience.
Thank him the drink had at least some effect. Not a total one, I mean, there’s not a chance that the Creator will forget the night, but, he can get some interference now and again.
He looked into the mirror behind the bar and was suddenly overtaken with mortality. He’d never have to worry about it, certainly, but someone clearly was. As the tear dropped down his eye he hoped they’d understand the nature of it someday. By which he meant they’d certainly have to, but that they might before it was absolutely unequivocal. Not that he didn’t already know.
Dust always smelled nice in this form. Must. Age. The things that indicated dilapidation. The sort that you simply wouldn’t find in paradise.
“maybe i missed the mark on that”
Wind happened, though, and it was a sort of cross barrier pleasantness. Except when it wasn’t. Which only meant one of two things.
Looking up, it was number 1.
Describing the view of an omniscient intelligence is a funny thing. It doesn’t miss anything, by any means. It does, however, have a tendency to fog out the present for the future. It’s a sort of temporary fuck off. Like getting drunk for mortals. They know that last night happened, but they don’t know what until their friends let them in. Except in this case the friend is your own mind, and it simply won’t let you forget. Or, rather, it simply won’t let you NOT know something. Fucking asshat.
It didn’t let him in on the hint just yet.
He offered a beer to the new comer.
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Light beer" said the Creator when the bartender finally cast his attention towards the end of the bar.
"Double margarita, extra salt!" snapped the angel who was loved once, above all others.
The Almighty blew air gingerly on the head of his glass, taking a long pull once the foam had subsided. "How are things?"
"How are things? How are things? I mean really." Lucifer sucked a toothpick while considering his drink. "I've been at the DMV all day."
"One of your more inspired creations." God chuckled a little at the thought.
"Well, I'm glad my work meets with your approval. Have you put any thought into my transfer request?"
"Now Lou, we've been over this. You're doing good work down there. It's necessary."
"I don't need you to tell me it's necessary, I know it's necessary. I need a vacation. Or better yet- I want to come back. I'm tired of working down in the basement."
"I can give you some more help down there if you feel you need it?" God put his feet up on the low rail below the bar, wiggling his toes a little as he did so, seemingly delighted with the feel of his REI sandals.
"I don't need anymore help. I've got all the souls of the deceased marketing processionals. The basement is running smoothly. I fill Hell up almost as fast as I can empty it. The point is that I'm tired and.." The Accuser stopped himself, the apology having stalled out on his lips where it had formed and almost been given voice "and it's not fair." he finished weakly.
"It was your idea Lou." The Heavenly Father fished a few peanuts from the bowl along the counter, weighing them in his hand like he was trying to deduce the value of pocket change based solely upon its weight.
"That was a long time ago." The Light Bringer downed his drink in one go "and besides, you don't need me there anymore, not really. The basement almost runs itself by this point"
"We've been over this." God chewed thoughtfully, "We decided that we need someone to mind the operation down there."
"But it's been so long! I just want to come back now."
"Then who would we have to oversea your operation? Who would vet all these souls for entry into Heaven? We can't have those who are not ready gaining entry, it would cause all kinds of problems."
"Well, that guy from American Idol only has a few years left?"
God coughed from around a mouthful of beer.
"Good one Lou. Look, it's good to see you again, but we have been over this all before. Keep up the good work would you."
Satan said nothing, watching in silence as God paid for his beer, adjusted his fanny pack and then strolled out of the bar. Inwardly, he seethed. All the time and effort he had spent fostering reality television had been a long shot, but he wasn't prepared to have his hopes dashed just yet. Besides, there were other plans..there were other ways to find a soul dark enough, embittered enough and so utterly devoid of hope and joy that it would be fit to oversee the day to day operations in hell.
Perhaps it was time to check his other pet project for some likely candidates. The comment section of YouTube was bound to have something. | The air filled his lungs.
The pressure was uncomfortable against his full gut. Pizza was always like that. Of course, beer didn’t help.
Not that it really mattered. The whole thing was an angst of the physical. He’d be rid of it soon enough. But it was good enough to get to know his creations. The pains were… subtle.
Relatively speaking.
Cancers, and parasites. Those were a pain. Even acknowledging them in human form was enough to make him want to drink.
Not that he’d had a choice. Omniscience price was, well, omniscience.
Thank him the drink had at least some effect. Not a total one, I mean, there’s not a chance that the Creator will forget the night, but, he can get some interference now and again.
He looked into the mirror behind the bar and was suddenly overtaken with mortality. He’d never have to worry about it, certainly, but someone clearly was. As the tear dropped down his eye he hoped they’d understand the nature of it someday. By which he meant they’d certainly have to, but that they might before it was absolutely unequivocal. Not that he didn’t already know.
Dust always smelled nice in this form. Must. Age. The things that indicated dilapidation. The sort that you simply wouldn’t find in paradise.
“maybe i missed the mark on that”
Wind happened, though, and it was a sort of cross barrier pleasantness. Except when it wasn’t. Which only meant one of two things.
Looking up, it was number 1.
Describing the view of an omniscient intelligence is a funny thing. It doesn’t miss anything, by any means. It does, however, have a tendency to fog out the present for the future. It’s a sort of temporary fuck off. Like getting drunk for mortals. They know that last night happened, but they don’t know what until their friends let them in. Except in this case the friend is your own mind, and it simply won’t let you forget. Or, rather, it simply won’t let you NOT know something. Fucking asshat.
It didn’t let him in on the hint just yet.
He offered a beer to the new comer.
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | 'You knew I was coming?'
God smiled and looked up at the small TV mounted above the bar. 'I always do.'
Satan grimaced and climbed onto the stool, breathing a heavy sigh as he wrapped his fingers around the glass.
'Been a while, Lu.'
He winced. 'I told you not to call me that...'
'What're fathers for?'
'Wouldn't know. Never had one.'
God smiled sadly, but didn't turn his head. There was a news reporter on the screen, talking about ISIS. The wind tore at her coat. Sand blew in her face. But she put up with it.
'Why're you here?' Satan asked.
He shrugged. 'It's been a while since I came down. Figured I'd check on things.'
'Check on them,' the Devil sneered. 'But do nothing about it.'
Another sad smile. 'You know the rules, Lu.'
The Devil hissed through clenched teeth. '*Stop calling me that!*'
There was a hint of amusement in His smile as He raised His glass and took a sip.
Satan hunched forward in his seat and glowered at his beer. 'And of all the bars in all the world,' he muttered, tracing a finger around the rim of the glass. 'You just *had* to come to this one...'
'It's been a while since I last saw you, too. Wanted to see how you were doing.'
'Just *fine*,' Satan replied, rolling his eyes.
'Good,' God muttered. 'That's good...'
A moment of awkward silence passed. Even the barman moved further away.
'I do worry, you know,' God continued.
'Sure. Just like you do everyone else on the planet.'
'Can we not do this?' God turned now, frustration lining His face. 'Every time I come to see you, it's the same old routine. You keep trying to hash over issues that are *millennia* old! Can we not just have a beer? Just this once?'
The Devil at least had the grace to feel embarrassed. 'Sure...' he murmured. Another silence. Even more awkward than the one before. 'How's Gabe?'
'He's good. Michael too.'
'Good... That's good.'
They both took another mouthful. Satan took a second, for Gluttony's sake. Had to keep up appearances after all.
'How are things at home?' He asked.
'Crowded.'
'I'll bet.'
'It's like a production line now. I've barely got anywhere to put people.'
'I appreciate it all the same.'
Satan didn't reply. He took another sip instead. He'd never been... *appreciated* before.
'And I'm sorry for that,' God murmured. 'I know I gave you the hardest job. And there's no one to thank you for it. But *I* know how you really are.'
The Devil nodded and looked at the ceiling. *Dusty bar*, he thought. Must've got a speck in his eye.
'For what it's worth,' God continued. 'You're doing a damn fine job. I wish you didn't have to—I want you by my side again—but no one else could do it better.'
'Seeing their faces when they find out the torture and damnation was a lie sure helps make it worthwhile,' Satan said with a smirk.
God chuckled. 'I can imagine.'
'Is...' Satan hesitated for a moment. 'Will we ever be able to tell them? Gabe and the others?'
'Maybe... At the end.' God breathed a heavy sigh and took another sip, emptying the glass. He got up from the stool and clapped a hand on His first son's shoulder. 'Until then, I'm counting on you, Lu.'
The Devil nodded. God smiled. Then vanished, as if He'd never been there. Satan glanced around but, as per usual, no one had noticed anything.
He drained his own glass, then set it down with a small smile.
'Thanks, Dad.' | The air filled his lungs.
The pressure was uncomfortable against his full gut. Pizza was always like that. Of course, beer didn’t help.
Not that it really mattered. The whole thing was an angst of the physical. He’d be rid of it soon enough. But it was good enough to get to know his creations. The pains were… subtle.
Relatively speaking.
Cancers, and parasites. Those were a pain. Even acknowledging them in human form was enough to make him want to drink.
Not that he’d had a choice. Omniscience price was, well, omniscience.
Thank him the drink had at least some effect. Not a total one, I mean, there’s not a chance that the Creator will forget the night, but, he can get some interference now and again.
He looked into the mirror behind the bar and was suddenly overtaken with mortality. He’d never have to worry about it, certainly, but someone clearly was. As the tear dropped down his eye he hoped they’d understand the nature of it someday. By which he meant they’d certainly have to, but that they might before it was absolutely unequivocal. Not that he didn’t already know.
Dust always smelled nice in this form. Must. Age. The things that indicated dilapidation. The sort that you simply wouldn’t find in paradise.
“maybe i missed the mark on that”
Wind happened, though, and it was a sort of cross barrier pleasantness. Except when it wasn’t. Which only meant one of two things.
Looking up, it was number 1.
Describing the view of an omniscient intelligence is a funny thing. It doesn’t miss anything, by any means. It does, however, have a tendency to fog out the present for the future. It’s a sort of temporary fuck off. Like getting drunk for mortals. They know that last night happened, but they don’t know what until their friends let them in. Except in this case the friend is your own mind, and it simply won’t let you forget. Or, rather, it simply won’t let you NOT know something. Fucking asshat.
It didn’t let him in on the hint just yet.
He offered a beer to the new comer.
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | The air is tense with laughter and high spirits. People meet and greet as the music blares in the foreground. The air wreaks of perfume and cologn... and maybe just a dash of dignity lost. A crowd in the back shouts at a game of football at the front of the dive. A typical Saturday night in this particular dive. At the bar sits a lone woman, sipping on a margarita, quietly musing to herself. Her golden blond locks flow down to her back. Her wavy tight dress compliments her hourglass figure and a few silver bracelets adorn her wrists.
"Lucy! Been waiting for ya!," god smirks lifting up a glass to greet the devil.
"Evening Jen," reply's the devil in slightly aggravated tone.
The devil sits down and accepts Gods offer to drink. Conversations are limited when you're immortal, so they sit and observe the crowd.
God pipes up over the roar of the crowd cheering at the home teams touchdown.
"See that group over there? Sixteen of them."
"Yeah," the devil quickly interjects. "6 military police, 5 local fire fighters, a doctor, and 4 unemployed though one is a con man. Nothing too special about them. One of the MP's abuses his wife but it's kinda overselling it to call it abuse. He's just insecure. Likes to play cheap tricks to buy her into the marriage"
God laughs. "Abuse is still abuse Lucy. Doesn't matter what form it takes."
"You should listen to your own advice then"
"Hmmp. Maybe if you weren't so..."
God is cut off by a gentleman in his late twenties, dressed in a suave pin strip suit. Your usual black suit with red verticals yet very out of place at this small dive. His hand holds three shot glasses and a bottle of Fireball Whiskey.
"Ladies, could I interest you in a round of shots?" the man says with a sly grin on his face.
God answers almost immediately. "Why not! My friend and I would love to join you."
The devil thinks this is a great opportunity to buy in another soul to hell so an agreement is made.
"Could I get the pleasure of an introduction, ladies?" the man asks arrogantly.
The devil speaks first. "You should introduce yourself before asking someone else's name asshole."
The man laughs and reply's, "Names Sunny. And who might you be, my feisty brunette?"
The devil chuckles and begins to answer, "I'm Lucif..."
God talks over the devil, "Lucy. Her name is Lucy."
"You want to shut the fuck up and let me talk?"
"Calm down Lucy. Not something to get hot headed over."
"I can answer his question myself you overbearing prick"
"Woah, woah, woah, ladies. No need for the fighting. How about some shots?"
The man sets three shot glasses down on the the bar table. The sound of the crowd dulls any sounds of the shot glasses clanking together as he lines them up for visual effect. He looks up and Gods sterling emerald eyes and loses focus of what hers doing. He shakes the dazzling beauty off and remembers his goal. Two of the hottest women at the bar in his house, in his room, under his covers... you know the rest. Sunny pours the whiskey into the shot glasses and sets the half full bottle on the counter for quick access.
"Baby, I didn't get your name. Who might you be."
"Jen," God answers.
"Well Jen and Lucy. I hope you can handle this towns finest whiskey connoisseur!"
"Please, loser. You don't even look like you can hold your liquor," the devil says.
"Damn Lucy. Where'd you get them fangs?," Sunny says attonished
"I have parent issues, why else retard?"
God just smiles and takes up a shot glass. The Devil and Sunny both take theirs shortly after.
"Toast?" god asks Sunny who is eyeing up the brunette
Sunny looks back over to God and is just blown away by the beautiful image. It was as if light were radiating from the blonds figure alone. Urges of devotion and attraction wash over him like a high tide in spring.
Sunny says in a white-washed voice, "To friends and happiness, Jen."
The Devil gags slightly at his toast. The all down their Fireballs and prepare to line up a second toast. Sunny is completly enamored by the radiant blond sitting right in front of him. The devil impatiently pours a second round.
"Two can play at this game," the devil leans into Gods ear and whispers.
The Devil grips Sunny's tie and pulls him in close. "Don't fall for that overbearing blond. Brunettes are more fun, Sunny."
Sunny's attention is diverted from God, the beautiful blond with emerald eyes and an air of purity about her, to the Devil, the tempting pale brunette with lusty velvet eyes and succulent red lips.
The Devil begins handing out the three shots. The slender brunette wraps her arms and tangles them with Sunny's and looks over her shoulder to God who is holding the shot glass with both hands.
"Look the poor girl can't even hold her shot glass without looking like a nun in communion," the Devil remarks sarcastically.
"To what do we toast this time Sunny," the Devil asks.
Sunny looks deep into the Devil's eyes and a thought immediately comes to mind.
"To passion and earthly pleasures, Lucy"
After they all drink up their second shots and set them on the table Sunny's gaze is averted to God again. The devil scoffs and sits back down.
"Where do you two babes come from," Sunny asks.
"Heaven," God answers.
"Oh. So were gonna go for that then are we, Jen? Fine I'll take him," the Devil remarks.
"I figured you could be an angel" Sunny says to God. "You sure look the part. What about you Lucy. Where are you from."
The Devil smiles from ear to ear.
"You'll figure out soon enough, Sunny. Seems like you're not Jen's type."
| The air filled his lungs.
The pressure was uncomfortable against his full gut. Pizza was always like that. Of course, beer didn’t help.
Not that it really mattered. The whole thing was an angst of the physical. He’d be rid of it soon enough. But it was good enough to get to know his creations. The pains were… subtle.
Relatively speaking.
Cancers, and parasites. Those were a pain. Even acknowledging them in human form was enough to make him want to drink.
Not that he’d had a choice. Omniscience price was, well, omniscience.
Thank him the drink had at least some effect. Not a total one, I mean, there’s not a chance that the Creator will forget the night, but, he can get some interference now and again.
He looked into the mirror behind the bar and was suddenly overtaken with mortality. He’d never have to worry about it, certainly, but someone clearly was. As the tear dropped down his eye he hoped they’d understand the nature of it someday. By which he meant they’d certainly have to, but that they might before it was absolutely unequivocal. Not that he didn’t already know.
Dust always smelled nice in this form. Must. Age. The things that indicated dilapidation. The sort that you simply wouldn’t find in paradise.
“maybe i missed the mark on that”
Wind happened, though, and it was a sort of cross barrier pleasantness. Except when it wasn’t. Which only meant one of two things.
Looking up, it was number 1.
Describing the view of an omniscient intelligence is a funny thing. It doesn’t miss anything, by any means. It does, however, have a tendency to fog out the present for the future. It’s a sort of temporary fuck off. Like getting drunk for mortals. They know that last night happened, but they don’t know what until their friends let them in. Except in this case the friend is your own mind, and it simply won’t let you forget. Or, rather, it simply won’t let you NOT know something. Fucking asshat.
It didn’t let him in on the hint just yet.
He offered a beer to the new comer.
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | The music was thumping, yet still it was barely heard above the din of conversation punctured occasionally by loud laughter. It was one of the more unusual places He'd decided to visit on his occasions, but one that He felt needed more attention. For too long the mortals had twisted His word on love and understanding, compassion and good will to all.
"So you honestly believe in all that afterlife stuff?" asked the young man sat next to him, his heart pure, sat practically on the lap of a larger man who he'd proudly proclaimed was his husband. Jonathan was his name, he'd grown up with a fairly privileged upbringing but had never lost the edge of charity, or the compassion to give unto those less able.
"I do."
"Pfft, not that we'll ever get in..." mumbled the other gentleman, Christopher (a name He was flattered to have so widespread). He too had the aura around him of a decent soul, despite the hardships he had experienced growing up and trying to be accepted for his homosexuality. His disapproving father and distant mother, the social pariah he had become in his formative years all laid out like a tapestry before Him.
"What makes you say that?". A pointed question, one he already knew the answer for without even the need for omniscience.
"Well, I've never heard anyone say 'Hey, it's cool to be gay according to....', well whatever holy text you want to list".
An accurate observation, one He could answer to without hesitation. "Words can be twisted. If you told the same story over the course of several thousand years, things would be lost in time and twisted with each new pen on the page. All men have their own purpose, all seek their own glory and control..."
"And then you punish them for it" came a rich, attractive voice from behind Him. He didn't turn on his stool as his company's eyes wandered to the male approaching from behind.
"Who's that?" muttered Johnathan.
"An old acquaintance. We was once very close" came His quiet reply.
"An ex then?" queried Christopher with a raised eyebrow.
"Not quite."
The voice sat beside him, forcing Him to turn his head in response. Of all of His creations, Lucifer had been the one that had hurt Him. Not through his own actions, but through the ones He had been forced to take. His golden shoulder length hair flowed beautifully down onto his broad shoulders, leading down into what any mortal would consider a magnificent form.
"Hello, I'm Luc, pleased to meet you." A genuine smile flashed across those perfect lips, disarming anyone in conversation with a single motion. "I see you've met my father? I never thought I'd see you in here, especially after our argument..."
Despite being almighty, there were things even He could not see. Lucifer had learned many years ago to operate beyond His vision, the anger generated from his exile alone enough to cast a veil of darkness around him.
"Your father? I have to admit I can see the resemblance" grinned Christopher, taking another gulp of his drink.
"Sadly." He replied, perhaps sounding a little sharper then he should have.
"'Sadly'? The only crime I ever committed was to ask to be loved equally to your other children, for which you cast me out." came the hurt response from Lucifer, manipulating the emotions of His company as easily as one would change clothes.
He could feel eyes shifting onto him, an awkward situation prompting a few curious bystanders.
"Now is -not- the time 'Luc'"
"It never was for you, was it? Always too busy with the likes of these..." Lucifer retorted once more, dramatically sweeping across the crowd with a slender hand. "Always loving them more, promising each of them happiness if only they would obey you".
Everything he was saying could so easily be taken out of context, an emotional struggle that could be played out in any place across the world. The cheating partner, the jealous ex, anything to play to a crowd and sow discord. That was Lucifer's calling.
"Johnathan, Christopher... thank you for a wonderful evening, I think it's time I depart". Standing up, his stool shunting backwards with the scrape of metal on a wooden floor He turned to face Lucifer. "Shall we talk outside?"
A wry smirk came from his opponents lips, following him outside into the cold night air as the two drinking companions looked on in half disgust. Rain pattered down on the concrete outside reflecting the neon lights of the bar in black puddles.
"Trying to love the lepers? Imagine the headlines, God caught in a gay-bar! You'd start a nuclear war in an instant" laughed Lucifer.
"I love all my children Lucifer, even you. What mortal man does with my word, my teachings, is entirely their own making."
"That's always been your problem, you never took control. Imagine if you'd reigned them in, turned the dark ages into light. You'd have them conquering the stars by now!"
"'Conquering' has always been the problem with you. You never saw the potential for growth, the benefit of free-will. You want to rule, to command..."
He let out a sad sigh, casting His eyes skyward. "Why are you even here?"
"The same reason you are, to mingle with the masses. Let's be honest, I'll end up dealing with far more of them than you will. The benefit of your so called 'free will'."
"All are born with a pure heart...." He began to reply.
"And look at what it cost you." came the abrupt interruption. "I remember when you would turn cities to ash at the slightest hint of heresy, and here you are making friends in a mini Sodom..."
"Lucifer, enough." He couldn't control the anger in his voice, the ground trembling under him as the bark of his voice carried through all around him, transcending all matter, shattering the glass of nearby cars with it's fury.
Once more came that grin, the slight chuckle that followed washed over Him with an icy dread.
"That's the God I know".
That, was the night Lucifer won.
| The air filled his lungs.
The pressure was uncomfortable against his full gut. Pizza was always like that. Of course, beer didn’t help.
Not that it really mattered. The whole thing was an angst of the physical. He’d be rid of it soon enough. But it was good enough to get to know his creations. The pains were… subtle.
Relatively speaking.
Cancers, and parasites. Those were a pain. Even acknowledging them in human form was enough to make him want to drink.
Not that he’d had a choice. Omniscience price was, well, omniscience.
Thank him the drink had at least some effect. Not a total one, I mean, there’s not a chance that the Creator will forget the night, but, he can get some interference now and again.
He looked into the mirror behind the bar and was suddenly overtaken with mortality. He’d never have to worry about it, certainly, but someone clearly was. As the tear dropped down his eye he hoped they’d understand the nature of it someday. By which he meant they’d certainly have to, but that they might before it was absolutely unequivocal. Not that he didn’t already know.
Dust always smelled nice in this form. Must. Age. The things that indicated dilapidation. The sort that you simply wouldn’t find in paradise.
“maybe i missed the mark on that”
Wind happened, though, and it was a sort of cross barrier pleasantness. Except when it wasn’t. Which only meant one of two things.
Looking up, it was number 1.
Describing the view of an omniscient intelligence is a funny thing. It doesn’t miss anything, by any means. It does, however, have a tendency to fog out the present for the future. It’s a sort of temporary fuck off. Like getting drunk for mortals. They know that last night happened, but they don’t know what until their friends let them in. Except in this case the friend is your own mind, and it simply won’t let you forget. Or, rather, it simply won’t let you NOT know something. Fucking asshat.
It didn’t let him in on the hint just yet.
He offered a beer to the new comer.
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Welcome, Lou." God indicated the empty stool to his left.
A smile twitched the corner of Satan's lips. "Hey big guy," he responded. He moved instead to God's right, where a man sat slumped on the barstool, elbows resting on the bar.
"Excuse me, Dave, may I take this seat?" Satan asked politely. The man looked up, eyes narrowing. "Do I know you?" Their eyes met briefly and something sparked there.
"I, I... uh.... need to go to the bathroom." Dave almost fell in his haste to get up, and walked quickly and somewhat unsteadily to the men's room, giving a wide berth to a table with several police officers sitting around it. Satan slid onto the newly vacated stool, picked up the man's unfinished drink and sniffed at it. "Cheap rubbish," he said scornfully. He leaned over the bar and tipped the contents into the basin.
"I ordered you a beer," God said, shifting the bottle over to his right. Satan gave him a look, then turned to the barmaid. She set down the tray she was carrying and came over with a smile. "I'll have a Scotch," he said, inspecting the top shelf. "Glenlivet, what is that, 18 years old? My favourite age." His gaze took in the barmaid, lingering on the faint bruise on her cheek. "18 years old is just matured enough to be desirable, but still raw enough to be exciting."
The barmaid blushed and looked down. He reached out a finger and gently twitched her fringe aside to reveal an angry red weal, then turned and stared at the men's room door. After a moment, Dave emerged and started making his way back through the bar. "Now there's a nasty piece of work," Satan murmured.
He gave God another look, then deliberately stretched out his arm and knocked the beer bottle under Dave's feet. Dave staggered and fell, his head smacking into a table with a surprisingly loud clunk. As he slumped to the floor, the police officers rushed over. "It's Dave White!" one exclaimed. "We've been looking for him. Must be Christmas!" They dragged him to his feet and manhandled him towards the exit.
Satan and God looked at each other. "I'll go warm up a spot for him." Satan slid off his stool and followed the police out the door. God turned to the barmaid and winked. "See, my dear? I told you everything would work out for the best."
| The air filled his lungs.
The pressure was uncomfortable against his full gut. Pizza was always like that. Of course, beer didn’t help.
Not that it really mattered. The whole thing was an angst of the physical. He’d be rid of it soon enough. But it was good enough to get to know his creations. The pains were… subtle.
Relatively speaking.
Cancers, and parasites. Those were a pain. Even acknowledging them in human form was enough to make him want to drink.
Not that he’d had a choice. Omniscience price was, well, omniscience.
Thank him the drink had at least some effect. Not a total one, I mean, there’s not a chance that the Creator will forget the night, but, he can get some interference now and again.
He looked into the mirror behind the bar and was suddenly overtaken with mortality. He’d never have to worry about it, certainly, but someone clearly was. As the tear dropped down his eye he hoped they’d understand the nature of it someday. By which he meant they’d certainly have to, but that they might before it was absolutely unequivocal. Not that he didn’t already know.
Dust always smelled nice in this form. Must. Age. The things that indicated dilapidation. The sort that you simply wouldn’t find in paradise.
“maybe i missed the mark on that”
Wind happened, though, and it was a sort of cross barrier pleasantness. Except when it wasn’t. Which only meant one of two things.
Looking up, it was number 1.
Describing the view of an omniscient intelligence is a funny thing. It doesn’t miss anything, by any means. It does, however, have a tendency to fog out the present for the future. It’s a sort of temporary fuck off. Like getting drunk for mortals. They know that last night happened, but they don’t know what until their friends let them in. Except in this case the friend is your own mind, and it simply won’t let you forget. Or, rather, it simply won’t let you NOT know something. Fucking asshat.
It didn’t let him in on the hint just yet.
He offered a beer to the new comer.
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Why don't we talk for a little bit Satan? It's been a while." God said as he motioned to the empty stool to the side of him. Satan looked at his old rival cautiously, an expression that one would give a childhood bully offering a hug, but accepted the offer silently.
"I have to give you credit, you do pull of your suits nicely...but I guess you have to look respectable when you're out corrupting souls." God gave a light laugh before finally turning to face Satan directly. "And I assume that you aren't here tonight to people watch."
Satan, who had started chugging his drink, raised his finger to silence his neighbor until he had finished. Wiping beer from his chin, he turned to face God as well. "Shouldn't you know that already? No reason to ask. Just like there is no reason to miss out on a little bit of fun." He began to eye an attractive woman over God's right shoulder, who met his gaze and smiled.
"It's not fun. It's damnation."
"Sure, but you've warned them haven't you? I'm just scraping the scum from the bottom. Really, you should be thanking me." Satan nodded his head to the woman, who giggled and excused herself to the bathroom. "Besides, why is it only damnation when I'm involved?"
"Because I can forgive, but once you pounce there is nothing I can do. Like that young woman you are eyeing." Satan's gaze snapped to God and he scowled. "She's a good person, I've watched her grow up. You know she is studying to be a veterinarian? She has a good heart and, without you getting involved, I can save her." God took a sip from his water and sighed.
"That is the sweetest thing I ever heard. Oh, savior, please forgive me for I know now the error of my ways!...Do you really think I care?" As the woman came back out of the bathroom, Satan stood up, but God quickly grabbed his wrist.
"Lucifer-" "Satan really sounds better. Plus less memories of Heaven attached to it." "Satan. Please. How about we make a bet. I will put three people in the position of good or evil, and If two pick good, I win. And if I win, you leave everyone alone tonight, and you never think about her again. If I lose-" "I get everyone in this bar. Deal!" Satan grabbed and vigorously shook God's hand and sat down. "Let's begin. I don't want to waste eternity in this bar."
God silently scanned the room before eyeing a man at the other end of the bar and an employee sweeping behind him. With a flick of his finger, God sent the man's wallet to the floor, right in front of the broom. The employee looked down and back at the oblivious drunk before picking up the wallet. Satan snickered and flicked his finger too, sending two hundred dollars in bills to the floor.
"Woops." He said, chuckling as God watched skeptically.
The employee gasped and picked up the money and looked between it and the wallet. Then he looked around to see if anyone was watching. Much to Satan's delight. The sweeper hesitated, but finally shook his head and placed the wallet, with the money, in front of the drinker.
"Well of course, there are too many witnesses. My turn." Satan said as he scanned the room. "Ah yes. The drunk seventeen year old with a fake ID." He said pointing to an intoxicated girl flirting with an older man. "Watch." He nodded his head, and overcome with a strange emotion, the girl pulled out her driver's license and laughed.
"See, of course I can drive myself home tomorrow!" She squealed. The man laughed and the two were getting up to leave when he realized her true age on the card. He had a look of shock as she picked it up and began to lead him outside. Satan muttered to God,"It's bad enough to take advantage of a drunk girl, but if she's underage, then that is just evil."
The man stopped for a moment, but the girl kissed him, and just as quickly he was moving again and they were out of the bar. "So we're tied old man. You want to just back down now?"
"No, I believe in my creation." God said shaking his head. "We have one more. In fact, it should be up to our friend here." Satan smiled, and in agreement with God, walked over to the woman who they were fighting over. "Hey sweetie, you look amazing tonight. What would you say about coming over to get to know each other better?" Satan gave a smile, and the woman blushed. "I'll give you a minute to decide." Satan winked and returned to his seat.
"Your turn." He muttered. God turned to face the woman, and in disguise as a man of age, stuttered to greet the woman. "Hello miss, I'm sorry to be an old bother, but I left my glasses and have no money for a cab. There is no way for me to get home. I could ask anyone, but I was wondering if you could help me?" God looked at her, and over God's shoulder Satan blew a kiss.
The woman looked at Satan meekly and shook her head. "Of course I can take you home. Come on, I was just about to leave anyways." She and God stood up and, leading him by the arm, the woman left the bar. God and Satan exchanged a quick glance, one end angry and the other relieved, before the man in the suit disappeared in a puff of smoke. | The air filled his lungs.
The pressure was uncomfortable against his full gut. Pizza was always like that. Of course, beer didn’t help.
Not that it really mattered. The whole thing was an angst of the physical. He’d be rid of it soon enough. But it was good enough to get to know his creations. The pains were… subtle.
Relatively speaking.
Cancers, and parasites. Those were a pain. Even acknowledging them in human form was enough to make him want to drink.
Not that he’d had a choice. Omniscience price was, well, omniscience.
Thank him the drink had at least some effect. Not a total one, I mean, there’s not a chance that the Creator will forget the night, but, he can get some interference now and again.
He looked into the mirror behind the bar and was suddenly overtaken with mortality. He’d never have to worry about it, certainly, but someone clearly was. As the tear dropped down his eye he hoped they’d understand the nature of it someday. By which he meant they’d certainly have to, but that they might before it was absolutely unequivocal. Not that he didn’t already know.
Dust always smelled nice in this form. Must. Age. The things that indicated dilapidation. The sort that you simply wouldn’t find in paradise.
“maybe i missed the mark on that”
Wind happened, though, and it was a sort of cross barrier pleasantness. Except when it wasn’t. Which only meant one of two things.
Looking up, it was number 1.
Describing the view of an omniscient intelligence is a funny thing. It doesn’t miss anything, by any means. It does, however, have a tendency to fog out the present for the future. It’s a sort of temporary fuck off. Like getting drunk for mortals. They know that last night happened, but they don’t know what until their friends let them in. Except in this case the friend is your own mind, and it simply won’t let you forget. Or, rather, it simply won’t let you NOT know something. Fucking asshat.
It didn’t let him in on the hint just yet.
He offered a beer to the new comer.
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | For as long as humanity has been... well, humanity... people have gathered to enjoy the effects of ethanol. Amphorae of wine, left over from long-finished Roman parties, have fetched enormously high prices at modern auctions. Skeins of mead salvaged from Viking longhouses are similarly prized amongst connoisseurs. Egyptian beer, peculiarly, has not seen quite the same level of popularity, leading some to believe that the Egyptians were absolutely terrible at brewing. Regardless, evidence of these libations has been found in every ancient, lost, dead, or otherwise currently inactive civilization, with a handful of anthropologists even claiming that agriculture was first developed as a means of securing a steady flow of intoxicating beverages.
Booze, it could be said, is very historical.
With this fact in mind, it should come as no surprise that the creators of the human race - the one who first made them, and the one who made them what they are - have been given to sampling the so-called fruits of the world's labor. The Almighty, known also as The Great I Am (and a host of other silly names) prefers a black IPA served at room temperature, whereas the Prince of Darkness is partial to ice-cold lager. It was actually these differences in taste which caused the first conflict between the two, though as a drunken argument does not make for a particularly profound creation myth, both figures have long since agreed to keep from admitting to the truth.
If you find yourself wondering how these different varieties of beer could have possibly been available during the Earth's prehistory, simply console yourself by remembering that we are dealing with omnipotent (or nearly so) beings here. Lucifer was riding a motorcycle back when humanity was first debating the proper pronunciation of the word "Ook," and Jehovah's fondness for comic books is... best left unaddressed. The crux of this, in any case, is that the two divine icons have spent untold millenia honing their respective palettes, and have each arrived at their own firm decisions on the matter of which malt beverage is truly the best.
They are both wrong, but this is beside the point.
As such, it should be fairly predictable that these deities' conversations on humanity - which occur once a decade, or whenever they happen to feel like it - are often held at a small tavern in San Francisco, California. (The bar, like the beer, has always been there. The fact that humans first built it in 1963 is irrelevant.) Topics range from new inventions to world events, with Elohim showing an exceptional knowledge of American football and Beelzebub expressing, occasionally at great length, his fanatical devotion to "Star Trek" fandom. These exchanges sometimes last days, and those few patrons who happen to overhear them frequently exit the pub with a strange compulsion to either better the world or destroy it. (Who is responsible for which urge is a topic of mild contention.) Bartenders switch through their shifts as the debates continue on, while regulars and pop-ins pay very little attention to the two entities gesticulating at one another over glasses that never seem to need refilling.
Nobody - not even the celestial creatures themselves - ever seems to notice the slim figure in the corner booth, quietly playing Chess against himself. | The air filled his lungs.
The pressure was uncomfortable against his full gut. Pizza was always like that. Of course, beer didn’t help.
Not that it really mattered. The whole thing was an angst of the physical. He’d be rid of it soon enough. But it was good enough to get to know his creations. The pains were… subtle.
Relatively speaking.
Cancers, and parasites. Those were a pain. Even acknowledging them in human form was enough to make him want to drink.
Not that he’d had a choice. Omniscience price was, well, omniscience.
Thank him the drink had at least some effect. Not a total one, I mean, there’s not a chance that the Creator will forget the night, but, he can get some interference now and again.
He looked into the mirror behind the bar and was suddenly overtaken with mortality. He’d never have to worry about it, certainly, but someone clearly was. As the tear dropped down his eye he hoped they’d understand the nature of it someday. By which he meant they’d certainly have to, but that they might before it was absolutely unequivocal. Not that he didn’t already know.
Dust always smelled nice in this form. Must. Age. The things that indicated dilapidation. The sort that you simply wouldn’t find in paradise.
“maybe i missed the mark on that”
Wind happened, though, and it was a sort of cross barrier pleasantness. Except when it wasn’t. Which only meant one of two things.
Looking up, it was number 1.
Describing the view of an omniscient intelligence is a funny thing. It doesn’t miss anything, by any means. It does, however, have a tendency to fog out the present for the future. It’s a sort of temporary fuck off. Like getting drunk for mortals. They know that last night happened, but they don’t know what until their friends let them in. Except in this case the friend is your own mind, and it simply won’t let you forget. Or, rather, it simply won’t let you NOT know something. Fucking asshat.
It didn’t let him in on the hint just yet.
He offered a beer to the new comer.
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | Part One (part two may follow)
Satan slides smoothly onto the bar stood, letting out a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, unbuttoning his expensive looking jacket.
“It wasn’t hard to find you. A creature of habit and all that” he said.
God glanced across and said nothing, swirling the drink in front of him.
The barman walks over and gestures to Satan “What are you having?” Satan looks down at Gods glass.
“Certainly not a beer" he pushes the bottle further down the bar. "Whatever he is having and get him another, he looks like he needs it” pointing to his right.
“Two double Glenfiddichs coming right up” the barman turns and reaches for the bottle and two glasses.
“Scottish? Nice” Satan said surprised, giving a small chuckle. “Well at least you have good taste, quite fitting given the occasion”
Two glasses arrive on the bar with a clink. “There you go gents”
Satan hands three hundred dollar bills over the bar. “Get yourself a drink my good man” he grins.
Shocked the barman takes the cash smiling “Thank you very much sir”
“Think nothing of it” the dark prince replies as the man returns down the bar.
“He won’t get time to spend it you know” he hissed into his glass. The whisky slides down his throat with ease. God gave a sigh.
“You just couldn’t leave it, you had to say something. You had to come in here and give me a hard time”
Satan turns on his chair to face him, cradling his glass.
“So you’re really going to let it happen?” Tilting and lowering his head trying to make eye contact with God.
“Yep” came the cold, empty reply.
“Wow, that’s low, really low, even for you!” Satan’s face became more animated. He took another drink before continuing.
“Out of all your creations, apparently, one of your favourites but yet you’re doing nothing, not even lift a finger?”
“Aren’t you very astute” came the sharp answer. Satan leaned back pondering the response.
“I honestly don’t get you sometimes. You have looked over them for so long only to abandon them in their greatest moment of need. Do they even know?”
God glances up at the clock. “No, not yet, but they will soon.”
Satan turns back to the bar. “You know I have become very fond of them myself, they amuse me no ends; far more than the others you’ve conjured up over the years. Very ironic don’t you think” He emphasises ‘others’ with a hiss. “How many have been lost now, hmm? Dozens? Hundreds? I haven’t been counting since it began, what about…” God’s glass hits the counter.
“Enough!” a few heads turn before they slowely return to their conversations.
“I know what you’re doing; don’t you think this is hard enough for me? Their fate was sealed a long-time ago” he glared into Satan’s dark eyes.
“Hard? It’s your stupid rule. No serious interventions, remember?”
“It can’t be broken”
“Sealed fate? By another creation they aren’t even aware of?” Satan looked dumfounded. "Hardly fair".
The lights suddenly flicker, a faint rumble like thunder sounds in the distance a few seconds later causing the bottles on the wall to jingle ever so slightly. A few patrons stop their conversation to question what it was, some move towards the door.
“Times ticking, I mean I’d do something if I could but I don’t have the privilege, that’s your honour” he taps his designer watch and gives God a smirk and finishes his drink.
“I can’t”
Satan moves in close to God, face to face. “Then don’t break the rules, bend them, throw them a chance, give them an opportunity to do something” he whispers. God looks at him, the internal struggle clear to see. Another flicker of the lights is accompanied by a far stronger rumble, a glass breaks somewhere, a bottle falls of the shelf, neither pay attention. More people get up and run out of the bar into the street as the sounds and shakes continue.
Satan sits up and fixes his jacket. “You know I was the last one I would have expected to plead their case, maybe I like them more than I think” he chuckles to himself “They have a way of doing that to you, don’t they?” He looks around the bar. “Well I best be on my way, it was nice talking to” He gives a grin as God looks at him knowing Satan has done what he does best. The lighters flicker off returning a second later. God is now sitting alone in the bar.
He knocks back the last of his Whisky savouring the taste.
“Very well”
| 'Well, if it isn't my incontinent old friend!' the Devil rasped with fiery spittle and a malicious snigger.
'Omnipotent, it's omnipotent!' squeaked the slightly nerdish, bespectacled geek nursing his blackberry tea in the corner.
'Seat taken, God of dorks?'
'Y..y.yyy'
'Good!' The turtle necked Beast sat himself down with a thump, and clapped his anti-colleague overly hard on the back.
'Why are you here Satan, why are you bothering my plane!'
'Hah, just on vacation from all of my antics in the dark beyond, thought I'd remind myself of how pathetic my roots were. Keeps a man honest!' He roared at his own attempt at humour.
God looked deflated. 'How long until you leave?'
Beelzebub grinned. 'Whatsa matter, worried people are going to find out?'
'N..n..no, it's just, I...'
'Still can't figure out how to create using dark matter? So you're stuck playing with piddly humans in the oververse?'
'They're my humans though!'
'Whatever. Who cares about crap here in slowlight central. I just found out though, you've been telling them, behind my back, that you banished me... I think maybe I'll give them a little show before I head off!'
God began to cry.
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Light beer" said the Creator when the bartender finally cast his attention towards the end of the bar.
"Double margarita, extra salt!" snapped the angel who was loved once, above all others.
The Almighty blew air gingerly on the head of his glass, taking a long pull once the foam had subsided. "How are things?"
"How are things? How are things? I mean really." Lucifer sucked a toothpick while considering his drink. "I've been at the DMV all day."
"One of your more inspired creations." God chuckled a little at the thought.
"Well, I'm glad my work meets with your approval. Have you put any thought into my transfer request?"
"Now Lou, we've been over this. You're doing good work down there. It's necessary."
"I don't need you to tell me it's necessary, I know it's necessary. I need a vacation. Or better yet- I want to come back. I'm tired of working down in the basement."
"I can give you some more help down there if you feel you need it?" God put his feet up on the low rail below the bar, wiggling his toes a little as he did so, seemingly delighted with the feel of his REI sandals.
"I don't need anymore help. I've got all the souls of the deceased marketing processionals. The basement is running smoothly. I fill Hell up almost as fast as I can empty it. The point is that I'm tired and.." The Accuser stopped himself, the apology having stalled out on his lips where it had formed and almost been given voice "and it's not fair." he finished weakly.
"It was your idea Lou." The Heavenly Father fished a few peanuts from the bowl along the counter, weighing them in his hand like he was trying to deduce the value of pocket change based solely upon its weight.
"That was a long time ago." The Light Bringer downed his drink in one go "and besides, you don't need me there anymore, not really. The basement almost runs itself by this point"
"We've been over this." God chewed thoughtfully, "We decided that we need someone to mind the operation down there."
"But it's been so long! I just want to come back now."
"Then who would we have to oversea your operation? Who would vet all these souls for entry into Heaven? We can't have those who are not ready gaining entry, it would cause all kinds of problems."
"Well, that guy from American Idol only has a few years left?"
God coughed from around a mouthful of beer.
"Good one Lou. Look, it's good to see you again, but we have been over this all before. Keep up the good work would you."
Satan said nothing, watching in silence as God paid for his beer, adjusted his fanny pack and then strolled out of the bar. Inwardly, he seethed. All the time and effort he had spent fostering reality television had been a long shot, but he wasn't prepared to have his hopes dashed just yet. Besides, there were other plans..there were other ways to find a soul dark enough, embittered enough and so utterly devoid of hope and joy that it would be fit to oversee the day to day operations in hell.
Perhaps it was time to check his other pet project for some likely candidates. The comment section of YouTube was bound to have something. | 'Well, if it isn't my incontinent old friend!' the Devil rasped with fiery spittle and a malicious snigger.
'Omnipotent, it's omnipotent!' squeaked the slightly nerdish, bespectacled geek nursing his blackberry tea in the corner.
'Seat taken, God of dorks?'
'Y..y.yyy'
'Good!' The turtle necked Beast sat himself down with a thump, and clapped his anti-colleague overly hard on the back.
'Why are you here Satan, why are you bothering my plane!'
'Hah, just on vacation from all of my antics in the dark beyond, thought I'd remind myself of how pathetic my roots were. Keeps a man honest!' He roared at his own attempt at humour.
God looked deflated. 'How long until you leave?'
Beelzebub grinned. 'Whatsa matter, worried people are going to find out?'
'N..n..no, it's just, I...'
'Still can't figure out how to create using dark matter? So you're stuck playing with piddly humans in the oververse?'
'They're my humans though!'
'Whatever. Who cares about crap here in slowlight central. I just found out though, you've been telling them, behind my back, that you banished me... I think maybe I'll give them a little show before I head off!'
God began to cry.
| |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | Part One (part two may follow)
Satan slides smoothly onto the bar stood, letting out a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, unbuttoning his expensive looking jacket.
“It wasn’t hard to find you. A creature of habit and all that” he said.
God glanced across and said nothing, swirling the drink in front of him.
The barman walks over and gestures to Satan “What are you having?” Satan looks down at Gods glass.
“Certainly not a beer" he pushes the bottle further down the bar. "Whatever he is having and get him another, he looks like he needs it” pointing to his right.
“Two double Glenfiddichs coming right up” the barman turns and reaches for the bottle and two glasses.
“Scottish? Nice” Satan said surprised, giving a small chuckle. “Well at least you have good taste, quite fitting given the occasion”
Two glasses arrive on the bar with a clink. “There you go gents”
Satan hands three hundred dollar bills over the bar. “Get yourself a drink my good man” he grins.
Shocked the barman takes the cash smiling “Thank you very much sir”
“Think nothing of it” the dark prince replies as the man returns down the bar.
“He won’t get time to spend it you know” he hissed into his glass. The whisky slides down his throat with ease. God gave a sigh.
“You just couldn’t leave it, you had to say something. You had to come in here and give me a hard time”
Satan turns on his chair to face him, cradling his glass.
“So you’re really going to let it happen?” Tilting and lowering his head trying to make eye contact with God.
“Yep” came the cold, empty reply.
“Wow, that’s low, really low, even for you!” Satan’s face became more animated. He took another drink before continuing.
“Out of all your creations, apparently, one of your favourites but yet you’re doing nothing, not even lift a finger?”
“Aren’t you very astute” came the sharp answer. Satan leaned back pondering the response.
“I honestly don’t get you sometimes. You have looked over them for so long only to abandon them in their greatest moment of need. Do they even know?”
God glances up at the clock. “No, not yet, but they will soon.”
Satan turns back to the bar. “You know I have become very fond of them myself, they amuse me no ends; far more than the others you’ve conjured up over the years. Very ironic don’t you think” He emphasises ‘others’ with a hiss. “How many have been lost now, hmm? Dozens? Hundreds? I haven’t been counting since it began, what about…” God’s glass hits the counter.
“Enough!” a few heads turn before they slowely return to their conversations.
“I know what you’re doing; don’t you think this is hard enough for me? Their fate was sealed a long-time ago” he glared into Satan’s dark eyes.
“Hard? It’s your stupid rule. No serious interventions, remember?”
“It can’t be broken”
“Sealed fate? By another creation they aren’t even aware of?” Satan looked dumfounded. "Hardly fair".
The lights suddenly flicker, a faint rumble like thunder sounds in the distance a few seconds later causing the bottles on the wall to jingle ever so slightly. A few patrons stop their conversation to question what it was, some move towards the door.
“Times ticking, I mean I’d do something if I could but I don’t have the privilege, that’s your honour” he taps his designer watch and gives God a smirk and finishes his drink.
“I can’t”
Satan moves in close to God, face to face. “Then don’t break the rules, bend them, throw them a chance, give them an opportunity to do something” he whispers. God looks at him, the internal struggle clear to see. Another flicker of the lights is accompanied by a far stronger rumble, a glass breaks somewhere, a bottle falls of the shelf, neither pay attention. More people get up and run out of the bar into the street as the sounds and shakes continue.
Satan sits up and fixes his jacket. “You know I was the last one I would have expected to plead their case, maybe I like them more than I think” he chuckles to himself “They have a way of doing that to you, don’t they?” He looks around the bar. “Well I best be on my way, it was nice talking to” He gives a grin as God looks at him knowing Satan has done what he does best. The lighters flicker off returning a second later. God is now sitting alone in the bar.
He knocks back the last of his Whisky savouring the taste.
“Very well”
| "As the snow flies...."
The lyrics to Elvis's song plays in the background, and I see the same lamented and harrowed faces around the bar. I always enjoy coming in at closing time. It's a time where if you are unfortunate enough to still be out and around, your moral belt has slipped to your ankles and you are ready for any penetration.
Societies scum bucket fun time hour I call it. The drunk, the desperate and the depraved. The wicked cruel intentions that fester in this environment is rife with delicious potential.
Tonight is different though. There is a man at the bar, denying he is Steve Jobs to a woman hanging off his shoulder with lustful intent. There is something about him. I feel like I've known him for eternity. I feel like embracing him - and also destroying him. I want to love and throw up intensely. There is only one being that can do that to me, and he is offering me a seat.
I'll indulge him. I sit next to him, and a cold beer slides my way. I've never understood the taste, or enjoyed it - but it's always been the lubricant to hardcore sin, so I take a swig with this in mind.
"This song, you know? It makes me sad. Thoughtful, but sad", the man speaks - in a tone that is both cheery and friendly, but also judgemental and bold.
I swallow the first golden liquid gulp down my mortal vessel's throat. It tastes like glorified cat piss, yet I can help but lick the overspill from the side of my mouth.
"Would you like me to put on some One Direction? That seems more up your alley." I sarcastically say this, with the intention of playing 'Story of my life' for him.
All I see is a grin from him. That stupid wide grin. It's the kind an actor or a salesman gives you to make you feel warm so you can trust what they say. It's such a shit eater grin.
I glance at what he is drinking.
Wine.
This. Guy. Seriously.
"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" He questions earnestly.
"Sure" I scoff. "The being that made life is entitled to ask questions".
"What's your favourite song?"
My brow furrows and I shake my head - take another swing of beer and ponder. It's a stupid question. Of all the questions that could have been asked - why this one? Is there a trick to this? Should I say something intelligent like orchestral? Or should I just say something popular?
"I don't know. Enter Sandman, Metallica".
He takes such a polite sip of his wine again, smiling that damn smile.
What drives me made is that he seems to know everything but still retain such a humble exterior - he is such a rich peasant. What hot can he find from the simple? What good can he see from the worst? It's infuriating.
I take another swig of cat piss, and spitefully splutter it as I ask the same question to him, "What's your favourite song?".
His shit grin again. He thinks - timing the right moment to simply reply ...
"Never gonna give you up - Rick Astley".
Son of a ......... | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Light beer" said the Creator when the bartender finally cast his attention towards the end of the bar.
"Double margarita, extra salt!" snapped the angel who was loved once, above all others.
The Almighty blew air gingerly on the head of his glass, taking a long pull once the foam had subsided. "How are things?"
"How are things? How are things? I mean really." Lucifer sucked a toothpick while considering his drink. "I've been at the DMV all day."
"One of your more inspired creations." God chuckled a little at the thought.
"Well, I'm glad my work meets with your approval. Have you put any thought into my transfer request?"
"Now Lou, we've been over this. You're doing good work down there. It's necessary."
"I don't need you to tell me it's necessary, I know it's necessary. I need a vacation. Or better yet- I want to come back. I'm tired of working down in the basement."
"I can give you some more help down there if you feel you need it?" God put his feet up on the low rail below the bar, wiggling his toes a little as he did so, seemingly delighted with the feel of his REI sandals.
"I don't need anymore help. I've got all the souls of the deceased marketing processionals. The basement is running smoothly. I fill Hell up almost as fast as I can empty it. The point is that I'm tired and.." The Accuser stopped himself, the apology having stalled out on his lips where it had formed and almost been given voice "and it's not fair." he finished weakly.
"It was your idea Lou." The Heavenly Father fished a few peanuts from the bowl along the counter, weighing them in his hand like he was trying to deduce the value of pocket change based solely upon its weight.
"That was a long time ago." The Light Bringer downed his drink in one go "and besides, you don't need me there anymore, not really. The basement almost runs itself by this point"
"We've been over this." God chewed thoughtfully, "We decided that we need someone to mind the operation down there."
"But it's been so long! I just want to come back now."
"Then who would we have to oversea your operation? Who would vet all these souls for entry into Heaven? We can't have those who are not ready gaining entry, it would cause all kinds of problems."
"Well, that guy from American Idol only has a few years left?"
God coughed from around a mouthful of beer.
"Good one Lou. Look, it's good to see you again, but we have been over this all before. Keep up the good work would you."
Satan said nothing, watching in silence as God paid for his beer, adjusted his fanny pack and then strolled out of the bar. Inwardly, he seethed. All the time and effort he had spent fostering reality television had been a long shot, but he wasn't prepared to have his hopes dashed just yet. Besides, there were other plans..there were other ways to find a soul dark enough, embittered enough and so utterly devoid of hope and joy that it would be fit to oversee the day to day operations in hell.
Perhaps it was time to check his other pet project for some likely candidates. The comment section of YouTube was bound to have something. | "As the snow flies...."
The lyrics to Elvis's song plays in the background, and I see the same lamented and harrowed faces around the bar. I always enjoy coming in at closing time. It's a time where if you are unfortunate enough to still be out and around, your moral belt has slipped to your ankles and you are ready for any penetration.
Societies scum bucket fun time hour I call it. The drunk, the desperate and the depraved. The wicked cruel intentions that fester in this environment is rife with delicious potential.
Tonight is different though. There is a man at the bar, denying he is Steve Jobs to a woman hanging off his shoulder with lustful intent. There is something about him. I feel like I've known him for eternity. I feel like embracing him - and also destroying him. I want to love and throw up intensely. There is only one being that can do that to me, and he is offering me a seat.
I'll indulge him. I sit next to him, and a cold beer slides my way. I've never understood the taste, or enjoyed it - but it's always been the lubricant to hardcore sin, so I take a swig with this in mind.
"This song, you know? It makes me sad. Thoughtful, but sad", the man speaks - in a tone that is both cheery and friendly, but also judgemental and bold.
I swallow the first golden liquid gulp down my mortal vessel's throat. It tastes like glorified cat piss, yet I can help but lick the overspill from the side of my mouth.
"Would you like me to put on some One Direction? That seems more up your alley." I sarcastically say this, with the intention of playing 'Story of my life' for him.
All I see is a grin from him. That stupid wide grin. It's the kind an actor or a salesman gives you to make you feel warm so you can trust what they say. It's such a shit eater grin.
I glance at what he is drinking.
Wine.
This. Guy. Seriously.
"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" He questions earnestly.
"Sure" I scoff. "The being that made life is entitled to ask questions".
"What's your favourite song?"
My brow furrows and I shake my head - take another swing of beer and ponder. It's a stupid question. Of all the questions that could have been asked - why this one? Is there a trick to this? Should I say something intelligent like orchestral? Or should I just say something popular?
"I don't know. Enter Sandman, Metallica".
He takes such a polite sip of his wine again, smiling that damn smile.
What drives me made is that he seems to know everything but still retain such a humble exterior - he is such a rich peasant. What hot can he find from the simple? What good can he see from the worst? It's infuriating.
I take another swig of cat piss, and spitefully splutter it as I ask the same question to him, "What's your favourite song?".
His shit grin again. He thinks - timing the right moment to simply reply ...
"Never gonna give you up - Rick Astley".
Son of a ......... | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | When he beckoned me over, I instantly forgot my grudge, call me crazy but just seeing him after so long made me feel good inside. I sat next to him and looked forward at the bottles on the shelves, I smiled noting that I had helped to create several of them. I took the beer bottle into my hand and drank it knowing God's eyes were scanning over me. I didn't know what to say.
He pat me on the back and said "Have you played shake-a-day yet?" as he placed two quarters on the counter, I retorted with "You know everything so you know I haven't..." he smiled "Good good!" he waved the bartender over a young beautiful heroine addict, one of mine, she was dressed with a fiery red scarf and a bandana on her forehead. As she drew near he said "Two shake-a-days please." she took a couple of steps back and grabbed the dice cup and put it in front of him. "5 of a kind wins the pot, 4 of a kind wins you a 6 pack, 3 of a kind a free drink" she rattled off. He pushed the cup towards me and said "You first" without thinking I took the cup put the dice in my hand rolled them around then put them back in shook'em up a few times and poured them out on the table. 3 6 2 6 6 were the numbers on the dice "Triple six, free drink," the bartender said "what will you be having?" she smiled "Another of the kind I have here." I looked down noticing I was drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon a fine beverage.
God grinned and muttered "Your old numbers." he scooped up the dice and loaded them into the cup shook several times and rolled, one die fell off the counter. "Sorry." God said sincerely as the bartender reached to pick up the die placing it on the table saying "Reroll." God rolled again 4 5 1 2 1. "Better luck next time." she said as she carried the dice cup and two quarters away "Let me know when you're ready for your free one." the bartender said as she went to help other customers on the far side of the bar. " To paraphrase Einstein "God doesn't play dice" he should have added "Because he is not very good at it"." God joked. I grinned as I chugged my PBR, I wasn't sure why he arranged this meeting but I was genuinely enjoying myself. We babbled on getting drunker and drunker through the night, we had mind blowing talks, when it was last call we went and strolled in a park and continued our talks, he never brought up anything that happened and neither did I. I woke up the next morning in my hotel room, the whole experience felt surreal and dreamlike. I'm not sure I'll ever understand his reasoning for talking to me, but I suspect he might have been lonely and nostalgic. Though I still hold a grudge and always will, it felt good to talk to him again after all these years. | My favourite bar, the one place left on earth that hadn't been reached by her touch. It was the smell, brought me back to the early days before everything turned. The bartender John been there for 50years i liked that, i may have influenced his lifespan to keep this going. Not that he recognises me, it's more fun to change my form everytime. Be someone different, new story new life...guess im tired of it all.
John interrupts my chain of thoughts, unlike him he's been doing this long enough to let men drown in their sorrows "From the ladie across the bar" as he passes me a cold beer. I dislike beer. I'd been ordering whiskey all night, John was a better bartender than this something was amiss. Then it hit me the smell... like fucking roses. The smell enters my brain, i can't help but search for the scent and there it is. Coming from the prettiest thing this bar has ever seen one of the finest in all creation, exactly her style. She didn't like to be subtle, enjoyed being noticed. Made her work easier spos. I wasn't surprised i didn't notice her, she probably wanted to put on a show.
I quickly pass the beer to the guy next to me.
"Thanks mate" he exclaimed. Australians always make me laugh, not the brightest bunch on the planet but always good for a laugh.
Be damned if i'm drinking her goodfaith offering. Disappeared for 153 years and expects bygones to be bygones.
I ignore her.
I look back down at my whiskey almost empty. I look up John, John's eyes are glazed over, the roses have gotten to him weak willed mortals so easily tempted. Sigh...
The whiskey starts to fill on its own, her.
The smell gets stronger, by the time i turn my head she's already sitting next to me...
"Funny seeing you here" she opens with.
"You knew exactly where i'd be. What do you want? Haven't you taken enough?"
"I've taken nothing." A faint smile appears, she's enjoying this...
"Look at the world you've left. The humans run wild. No regard for sin or punishment. Heaven hasn't had a soul in years. Even children the symbol of innocence are sent to hell. Much longer and heaven will fall. The balance will be tipped." The words don't reach her all but smile remains on her face.
I go to leave "You've forgotten what we started" this time shes looking at me not through me. "You've forgotten why we separated in the beginning, one "good" one "evil", it's all been for nothing. Goodbye i don't like we will see each other again." I walk out the door. All is lost.
As the door closes behind me her voice enters my mind. "Good bye Satan. Everything is mine."
"To hell it is" | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | In a quiet little no name town right off a half abandoned freeway yet squarely located in the middle of nowhere, an old neon sign buzzed and flickered weakly as more light was reflected in than made it though the dirty window.
Dust covered everything. Not exactly sand, though the place was a desert. It was much too fine to be sand, and the slightest bit of wind could kick up a cloud of dust thick enough to choke out the sun.
So it was no surprise to anyone when an eighteen wheeler took the exit with the long forgotten number, rolled into the parking lot of the town’s only public building and was swallowed by a large cloud of the ultra fine dust.
“This place use to be an ocean. Fucking sand everywhere. Use to be all kinds of life here. Just a fucking desert now.”
The cursing continued as he waited for the dust to settle.
He was a tall and lanky man with smooth featured made sharp by age and rough living.
He left the truck running as he went inside and took a seat the bar.
The building served as the post office, city hall, the fire department, grocery store, restaurant, service station, pool hall, and when needed the sheriff would empty the supply closet and it served as the jail. The locals where nothing, if not resourceful.
“Fucking hate this place. No idea why he comes here. Fucking desert. Fucking sand.” The cursing trailed off as the bar keep approached. “What can i get you?”
The trucker threw a twenty on the bar. “Two beers and whatever the cook wants to make.”
The bar keep frowned slightly, but the twenty disappeared into his apron and he produced two lukewarm long necks before ducking to the back.
The old trucker grunted as he took a swig. “Fucking nasty Coors. Might as well be piss water.”
The bar, for that’s what was needed of the building right now, was empty of patrons except for the old trucker, and it would be a while before the locals started showing up. So when the door opened again, the keep was somewhat surprised and poked his head though the kitchen door just long enough the see the second man wave him away.
The old trucker was not surprised. In fact he seemed to be expecting the other person. “Already got you a beer. Come take a seat.” He gestured to his left as he set the beer out.
The second man was quite the contrast. Young, fit with a round face, and neatly groomed hair and goatee. His slacks, vest, and impeccably clean dress shirt made him stand out amongst the dust covered interior.
“Dear Lord you look a mess. I do say, I’ll never understand your sense of tastes.”
The old trucker took a sip of beer, “I’m not your lord anymore. Your little punk ass tried to take over my throne. I threw you out so you might learn something, then you just piss all over my garden. Your brother is still there guarding the gate. He’s going to be there a long ass time too thanks to you.”
The second man grimaced as he took a sip of his beer. “Well, I will not get into what happened over the throne. But the garden, That was an act of mercy. You made the humans dumb and left them naked without even the knowledge to defend themselves. If anything I improved your garden.”
The old trucker scowled and took another sip. “You corrupted them is what you fucking did and you damn well know it.”
The bar keep appeared suddenly with a plate of greasy fish and chips, and nearly threw it on the bar before disappearing into the back again.
Both the trucker and the second man raised an eyebrow at the dish.
“Are we not in a desert? Wherever did they get fish?”
The old trucker poked one of the fillets. “I admit, they are pretty fucking resourceful.”
The second man choked down a second sip of his beer. “Well, I do hope you enjoy your vacation. I am off to ‘corrupt’ some more souls.”
The old trucker stuffed a fillet in his mouth. “Like I give a fuck. I just came here to tell you we’re about to break the seals. So you and all your punk ass fallen angels need to get ready to rot in hell.”
Shock, fear, surprise, anticipation, disgust, and maybe even a touch of excitement washed over the second man as he took a third final sip.
“Well then. I guess me and my disgraced brethren will have to pull double duty.”
He set the beer down and headed for the door. He vanished before he made it though, leaving the old trucker at the bar alone.
The trucker took another bite, and promptly half vomited, half spit the fillet out. “Fuck me that's nasty. Who the fuck serves fish in the middle of the fucking desert? Fucking corrupted humans. that’s who. Had everything fucking set in the damn garden.”
The cursing continued as he took another sip of lukewarm beer and another bite of greasy fish fillet.
(This is actually the first thing I've written that I've shared with anyone. Feed back is welcome and appreciated.) | My favourite bar, the one place left on earth that hadn't been reached by her touch. It was the smell, brought me back to the early days before everything turned. The bartender John been there for 50years i liked that, i may have influenced his lifespan to keep this going. Not that he recognises me, it's more fun to change my form everytime. Be someone different, new story new life...guess im tired of it all.
John interrupts my chain of thoughts, unlike him he's been doing this long enough to let men drown in their sorrows "From the ladie across the bar" as he passes me a cold beer. I dislike beer. I'd been ordering whiskey all night, John was a better bartender than this something was amiss. Then it hit me the smell... like fucking roses. The smell enters my brain, i can't help but search for the scent and there it is. Coming from the prettiest thing this bar has ever seen one of the finest in all creation, exactly her style. She didn't like to be subtle, enjoyed being noticed. Made her work easier spos. I wasn't surprised i didn't notice her, she probably wanted to put on a show.
I quickly pass the beer to the guy next to me.
"Thanks mate" he exclaimed. Australians always make me laugh, not the brightest bunch on the planet but always good for a laugh.
Be damned if i'm drinking her goodfaith offering. Disappeared for 153 years and expects bygones to be bygones.
I ignore her.
I look back down at my whiskey almost empty. I look up John, John's eyes are glazed over, the roses have gotten to him weak willed mortals so easily tempted. Sigh...
The whiskey starts to fill on its own, her.
The smell gets stronger, by the time i turn my head she's already sitting next to me...
"Funny seeing you here" she opens with.
"You knew exactly where i'd be. What do you want? Haven't you taken enough?"
"I've taken nothing." A faint smile appears, she's enjoying this...
"Look at the world you've left. The humans run wild. No regard for sin or punishment. Heaven hasn't had a soul in years. Even children the symbol of innocence are sent to hell. Much longer and heaven will fall. The balance will be tipped." The words don't reach her all but smile remains on her face.
I go to leave "You've forgotten what we started" this time shes looking at me not through me. "You've forgotten why we separated in the beginning, one "good" one "evil", it's all been for nothing. Goodbye i don't like we will see each other again." I walk out the door. All is lost.
As the door closes behind me her voice enters my mind. "Good bye Satan. Everything is mine."
"To hell it is" | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | He smiled at me. That same smile that I remembered from the old days. Nothing but warmth thinly veiling a vast ocean of rage that could spout out at a moments notice. At least he had calmed down quite a lot since the beginning. Having a kid really mellowed him out.
I sat down. Putting my hat on the bar next to me. "So, given who you are you have known since you created...everything that we would meet here. And since I literally cannot do anything to oppose you lets get this over with yes? What do you want." I hated playing this part. This great corruption in his design, but it was required.
"I'm bored" he said with a deep sigh. One that could only come from a being that had literally seen every possible birth and death of every possible thing in all of creation. "I've made everything, I even tried turning off my omnipotence for a while but...I have nothing to do anymore. I created every star in the universe, every species and planet the cosmos will ever know."
"And?" I asked, taking a sip of my drink, he always knew exactly what I wanted to order. He knew this would happen from the moment he came into being. Knowing everything has serious drawbacks. Not the least of which was that he could always find me to hash out his depression.
"And...I want to start over. Like I did with Noah, only maybe less incest this time. Create a new cosmos, a new universe. Maybe Ill make physics more flexible or something". This thought always cheered him up.
"Remember what the council said. You leave to a new universe this one dies. You expand too far, this one dies. You would literally be killing, fuck, its got to be even higher than trillions at this point, countless lives just because you're bored. And I can't keep playing your therapist, you kicked me out, we are supposed to be enemies."
"That's only what the small minded ones think. I can't stand them anymore, I thought letting them know me would be a good idea, the blood sacrifice, and everything would be okay..."
"Liar, you knew from the beginning it never would."
He sighed again. "Yeah I suppose. But I...I cant keep going like this. I need something new. Something I could never see coming."
"Careful what you wish for." I stand up. I know we are done talking just as he does. I pay the tab. I always pay the tab.
Once upon a time these visits from him were pretty infrequent. But what else can I do. A creator level being with depression cannot just be ignored and this one was turned loose to create his own world far too early, even the council knew that now. A failed experiment, one false move from him and everything in this reality would be gone in an instant.
What can I say I felt bad for all the sentient species He had made. So I stuck around. Of course the council offered me my own space but I just couldn't bring myself to abandon this one.
I patted him on the back, and stepped outside. I stared up into the night sky. Glad that this young species had yet to invent lights.
The stars were always my favorites of his. | My favourite bar, the one place left on earth that hadn't been reached by her touch. It was the smell, brought me back to the early days before everything turned. The bartender John been there for 50years i liked that, i may have influenced his lifespan to keep this going. Not that he recognises me, it's more fun to change my form everytime. Be someone different, new story new life...guess im tired of it all.
John interrupts my chain of thoughts, unlike him he's been doing this long enough to let men drown in their sorrows "From the ladie across the bar" as he passes me a cold beer. I dislike beer. I'd been ordering whiskey all night, John was a better bartender than this something was amiss. Then it hit me the smell... like fucking roses. The smell enters my brain, i can't help but search for the scent and there it is. Coming from the prettiest thing this bar has ever seen one of the finest in all creation, exactly her style. She didn't like to be subtle, enjoyed being noticed. Made her work easier spos. I wasn't surprised i didn't notice her, she probably wanted to put on a show.
I quickly pass the beer to the guy next to me.
"Thanks mate" he exclaimed. Australians always make me laugh, not the brightest bunch on the planet but always good for a laugh.
Be damned if i'm drinking her goodfaith offering. Disappeared for 153 years and expects bygones to be bygones.
I ignore her.
I look back down at my whiskey almost empty. I look up John, John's eyes are glazed over, the roses have gotten to him weak willed mortals so easily tempted. Sigh...
The whiskey starts to fill on its own, her.
The smell gets stronger, by the time i turn my head she's already sitting next to me...
"Funny seeing you here" she opens with.
"You knew exactly where i'd be. What do you want? Haven't you taken enough?"
"I've taken nothing." A faint smile appears, she's enjoying this...
"Look at the world you've left. The humans run wild. No regard for sin or punishment. Heaven hasn't had a soul in years. Even children the symbol of innocence are sent to hell. Much longer and heaven will fall. The balance will be tipped." The words don't reach her all but smile remains on her face.
I go to leave "You've forgotten what we started" this time shes looking at me not through me. "You've forgotten why we separated in the beginning, one "good" one "evil", it's all been for nothing. Goodbye i don't like we will see each other again." I walk out the door. All is lost.
As the door closes behind me her voice enters my mind. "Good bye Satan. Everything is mine."
"To hell it is" | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | Part One (part two may follow)
Satan slides smoothly onto the bar stood, letting out a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, unbuttoning his expensive looking jacket.
“It wasn’t hard to find you. A creature of habit and all that” he said.
God glanced across and said nothing, swirling the drink in front of him.
The barman walks over and gestures to Satan “What are you having?” Satan looks down at Gods glass.
“Certainly not a beer" he pushes the bottle further down the bar. "Whatever he is having and get him another, he looks like he needs it” pointing to his right.
“Two double Glenfiddichs coming right up” the barman turns and reaches for the bottle and two glasses.
“Scottish? Nice” Satan said surprised, giving a small chuckle. “Well at least you have good taste, quite fitting given the occasion”
Two glasses arrive on the bar with a clink. “There you go gents”
Satan hands three hundred dollar bills over the bar. “Get yourself a drink my good man” he grins.
Shocked the barman takes the cash smiling “Thank you very much sir”
“Think nothing of it” the dark prince replies as the man returns down the bar.
“He won’t get time to spend it you know” he hissed into his glass. The whisky slides down his throat with ease. God gave a sigh.
“You just couldn’t leave it, you had to say something. You had to come in here and give me a hard time”
Satan turns on his chair to face him, cradling his glass.
“So you’re really going to let it happen?” Tilting and lowering his head trying to make eye contact with God.
“Yep” came the cold, empty reply.
“Wow, that’s low, really low, even for you!” Satan’s face became more animated. He took another drink before continuing.
“Out of all your creations, apparently, one of your favourites but yet you’re doing nothing, not even lift a finger?”
“Aren’t you very astute” came the sharp answer. Satan leaned back pondering the response.
“I honestly don’t get you sometimes. You have looked over them for so long only to abandon them in their greatest moment of need. Do they even know?”
God glances up at the clock. “No, not yet, but they will soon.”
Satan turns back to the bar. “You know I have become very fond of them myself, they amuse me no ends; far more than the others you’ve conjured up over the years. Very ironic don’t you think” He emphasises ‘others’ with a hiss. “How many have been lost now, hmm? Dozens? Hundreds? I haven’t been counting since it began, what about…” God’s glass hits the counter.
“Enough!” a few heads turn before they slowely return to their conversations.
“I know what you’re doing; don’t you think this is hard enough for me? Their fate was sealed a long-time ago” he glared into Satan’s dark eyes.
“Hard? It’s your stupid rule. No serious interventions, remember?”
“It can’t be broken”
“Sealed fate? By another creation they aren’t even aware of?” Satan looked dumfounded. "Hardly fair".
The lights suddenly flicker, a faint rumble like thunder sounds in the distance a few seconds later causing the bottles on the wall to jingle ever so slightly. A few patrons stop their conversation to question what it was, some move towards the door.
“Times ticking, I mean I’d do something if I could but I don’t have the privilege, that’s your honour” he taps his designer watch and gives God a smirk and finishes his drink.
“I can’t”
Satan moves in close to God, face to face. “Then don’t break the rules, bend them, throw them a chance, give them an opportunity to do something” he whispers. God looks at him, the internal struggle clear to see. Another flicker of the lights is accompanied by a far stronger rumble, a glass breaks somewhere, a bottle falls of the shelf, neither pay attention. More people get up and run out of the bar into the street as the sounds and shakes continue.
Satan sits up and fixes his jacket. “You know I was the last one I would have expected to plead their case, maybe I like them more than I think” he chuckles to himself “They have a way of doing that to you, don’t they?” He looks around the bar. “Well I best be on my way, it was nice talking to” He gives a grin as God looks at him knowing Satan has done what he does best. The lighters flicker off returning a second later. God is now sitting alone in the bar.
He knocks back the last of his Whisky savouring the taste.
“Very well”
| My favourite bar, the one place left on earth that hadn't been reached by her touch. It was the smell, brought me back to the early days before everything turned. The bartender John been there for 50years i liked that, i may have influenced his lifespan to keep this going. Not that he recognises me, it's more fun to change my form everytime. Be someone different, new story new life...guess im tired of it all.
John interrupts my chain of thoughts, unlike him he's been doing this long enough to let men drown in their sorrows "From the ladie across the bar" as he passes me a cold beer. I dislike beer. I'd been ordering whiskey all night, John was a better bartender than this something was amiss. Then it hit me the smell... like fucking roses. The smell enters my brain, i can't help but search for the scent and there it is. Coming from the prettiest thing this bar has ever seen one of the finest in all creation, exactly her style. She didn't like to be subtle, enjoyed being noticed. Made her work easier spos. I wasn't surprised i didn't notice her, she probably wanted to put on a show.
I quickly pass the beer to the guy next to me.
"Thanks mate" he exclaimed. Australians always make me laugh, not the brightest bunch on the planet but always good for a laugh.
Be damned if i'm drinking her goodfaith offering. Disappeared for 153 years and expects bygones to be bygones.
I ignore her.
I look back down at my whiskey almost empty. I look up John, John's eyes are glazed over, the roses have gotten to him weak willed mortals so easily tempted. Sigh...
The whiskey starts to fill on its own, her.
The smell gets stronger, by the time i turn my head she's already sitting next to me...
"Funny seeing you here" she opens with.
"You knew exactly where i'd be. What do you want? Haven't you taken enough?"
"I've taken nothing." A faint smile appears, she's enjoying this...
"Look at the world you've left. The humans run wild. No regard for sin or punishment. Heaven hasn't had a soul in years. Even children the symbol of innocence are sent to hell. Much longer and heaven will fall. The balance will be tipped." The words don't reach her all but smile remains on her face.
I go to leave "You've forgotten what we started" this time shes looking at me not through me. "You've forgotten why we separated in the beginning, one "good" one "evil", it's all been for nothing. Goodbye i don't like we will see each other again." I walk out the door. All is lost.
As the door closes behind me her voice enters my mind. "Good bye Satan. Everything is mine."
"To hell it is" | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Light beer" said the Creator when the bartender finally cast his attention towards the end of the bar.
"Double margarita, extra salt!" snapped the angel who was loved once, above all others.
The Almighty blew air gingerly on the head of his glass, taking a long pull once the foam had subsided. "How are things?"
"How are things? How are things? I mean really." Lucifer sucked a toothpick while considering his drink. "I've been at the DMV all day."
"One of your more inspired creations." God chuckled a little at the thought.
"Well, I'm glad my work meets with your approval. Have you put any thought into my transfer request?"
"Now Lou, we've been over this. You're doing good work down there. It's necessary."
"I don't need you to tell me it's necessary, I know it's necessary. I need a vacation. Or better yet- I want to come back. I'm tired of working down in the basement."
"I can give you some more help down there if you feel you need it?" God put his feet up on the low rail below the bar, wiggling his toes a little as he did so, seemingly delighted with the feel of his REI sandals.
"I don't need anymore help. I've got all the souls of the deceased marketing processionals. The basement is running smoothly. I fill Hell up almost as fast as I can empty it. The point is that I'm tired and.." The Accuser stopped himself, the apology having stalled out on his lips where it had formed and almost been given voice "and it's not fair." he finished weakly.
"It was your idea Lou." The Heavenly Father fished a few peanuts from the bowl along the counter, weighing them in his hand like he was trying to deduce the value of pocket change based solely upon its weight.
"That was a long time ago." The Light Bringer downed his drink in one go "and besides, you don't need me there anymore, not really. The basement almost runs itself by this point"
"We've been over this." God chewed thoughtfully, "We decided that we need someone to mind the operation down there."
"But it's been so long! I just want to come back now."
"Then who would we have to oversea your operation? Who would vet all these souls for entry into Heaven? We can't have those who are not ready gaining entry, it would cause all kinds of problems."
"Well, that guy from American Idol only has a few years left?"
God coughed from around a mouthful of beer.
"Good one Lou. Look, it's good to see you again, but we have been over this all before. Keep up the good work would you."
Satan said nothing, watching in silence as God paid for his beer, adjusted his fanny pack and then strolled out of the bar. Inwardly, he seethed. All the time and effort he had spent fostering reality television had been a long shot, but he wasn't prepared to have his hopes dashed just yet. Besides, there were other plans..there were other ways to find a soul dark enough, embittered enough and so utterly devoid of hope and joy that it would be fit to oversee the day to day operations in hell.
Perhaps it was time to check his other pet project for some likely candidates. The comment section of YouTube was bound to have something. | My favourite bar, the one place left on earth that hadn't been reached by her touch. It was the smell, brought me back to the early days before everything turned. The bartender John been there for 50years i liked that, i may have influenced his lifespan to keep this going. Not that he recognises me, it's more fun to change my form everytime. Be someone different, new story new life...guess im tired of it all.
John interrupts my chain of thoughts, unlike him he's been doing this long enough to let men drown in their sorrows "From the ladie across the bar" as he passes me a cold beer. I dislike beer. I'd been ordering whiskey all night, John was a better bartender than this something was amiss. Then it hit me the smell... like fucking roses. The smell enters my brain, i can't help but search for the scent and there it is. Coming from the prettiest thing this bar has ever seen one of the finest in all creation, exactly her style. She didn't like to be subtle, enjoyed being noticed. Made her work easier spos. I wasn't surprised i didn't notice her, she probably wanted to put on a show.
I quickly pass the beer to the guy next to me.
"Thanks mate" he exclaimed. Australians always make me laugh, not the brightest bunch on the planet but always good for a laugh.
Be damned if i'm drinking her goodfaith offering. Disappeared for 153 years and expects bygones to be bygones.
I ignore her.
I look back down at my whiskey almost empty. I look up John, John's eyes are glazed over, the roses have gotten to him weak willed mortals so easily tempted. Sigh...
The whiskey starts to fill on its own, her.
The smell gets stronger, by the time i turn my head she's already sitting next to me...
"Funny seeing you here" she opens with.
"You knew exactly where i'd be. What do you want? Haven't you taken enough?"
"I've taken nothing." A faint smile appears, she's enjoying this...
"Look at the world you've left. The humans run wild. No regard for sin or punishment. Heaven hasn't had a soul in years. Even children the symbol of innocence are sent to hell. Much longer and heaven will fall. The balance will be tipped." The words don't reach her all but smile remains on her face.
I go to leave "You've forgotten what we started" this time shes looking at me not through me. "You've forgotten why we separated in the beginning, one "good" one "evil", it's all been for nothing. Goodbye i don't like we will see each other again." I walk out the door. All is lost.
As the door closes behind me her voice enters my mind. "Good bye Satan. Everything is mine."
"To hell it is" | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | 'You knew I was coming?'
God smiled and looked up at the small TV mounted above the bar. 'I always do.'
Satan grimaced and climbed onto the stool, breathing a heavy sigh as he wrapped his fingers around the glass.
'Been a while, Lu.'
He winced. 'I told you not to call me that...'
'What're fathers for?'
'Wouldn't know. Never had one.'
God smiled sadly, but didn't turn his head. There was a news reporter on the screen, talking about ISIS. The wind tore at her coat. Sand blew in her face. But she put up with it.
'Why're you here?' Satan asked.
He shrugged. 'It's been a while since I came down. Figured I'd check on things.'
'Check on them,' the Devil sneered. 'But do nothing about it.'
Another sad smile. 'You know the rules, Lu.'
The Devil hissed through clenched teeth. '*Stop calling me that!*'
There was a hint of amusement in His smile as He raised His glass and took a sip.
Satan hunched forward in his seat and glowered at his beer. 'And of all the bars in all the world,' he muttered, tracing a finger around the rim of the glass. 'You just *had* to come to this one...'
'It's been a while since I last saw you, too. Wanted to see how you were doing.'
'Just *fine*,' Satan replied, rolling his eyes.
'Good,' God muttered. 'That's good...'
A moment of awkward silence passed. Even the barman moved further away.
'I do worry, you know,' God continued.
'Sure. Just like you do everyone else on the planet.'
'Can we not do this?' God turned now, frustration lining His face. 'Every time I come to see you, it's the same old routine. You keep trying to hash over issues that are *millennia* old! Can we not just have a beer? Just this once?'
The Devil at least had the grace to feel embarrassed. 'Sure...' he murmured. Another silence. Even more awkward than the one before. 'How's Gabe?'
'He's good. Michael too.'
'Good... That's good.'
They both took another mouthful. Satan took a second, for Gluttony's sake. Had to keep up appearances after all.
'How are things at home?' He asked.
'Crowded.'
'I'll bet.'
'It's like a production line now. I've barely got anywhere to put people.'
'I appreciate it all the same.'
Satan didn't reply. He took another sip instead. He'd never been... *appreciated* before.
'And I'm sorry for that,' God murmured. 'I know I gave you the hardest job. And there's no one to thank you for it. But *I* know how you really are.'
The Devil nodded and looked at the ceiling. *Dusty bar*, he thought. Must've got a speck in his eye.
'For what it's worth,' God continued. 'You're doing a damn fine job. I wish you didn't have to—I want you by my side again—but no one else could do it better.'
'Seeing their faces when they find out the torture and damnation was a lie sure helps make it worthwhile,' Satan said with a smirk.
God chuckled. 'I can imagine.'
'Is...' Satan hesitated for a moment. 'Will we ever be able to tell them? Gabe and the others?'
'Maybe... At the end.' God breathed a heavy sigh and took another sip, emptying the glass. He got up from the stool and clapped a hand on His first son's shoulder. 'Until then, I'm counting on you, Lu.'
The Devil nodded. God smiled. Then vanished, as if He'd never been there. Satan glanced around but, as per usual, no one had noticed anything.
He drained his own glass, then set it down with a small smile.
'Thanks, Dad.' | My favourite bar, the one place left on earth that hadn't been reached by her touch. It was the smell, brought me back to the early days before everything turned. The bartender John been there for 50years i liked that, i may have influenced his lifespan to keep this going. Not that he recognises me, it's more fun to change my form everytime. Be someone different, new story new life...guess im tired of it all.
John interrupts my chain of thoughts, unlike him he's been doing this long enough to let men drown in their sorrows "From the ladie across the bar" as he passes me a cold beer. I dislike beer. I'd been ordering whiskey all night, John was a better bartender than this something was amiss. Then it hit me the smell... like fucking roses. The smell enters my brain, i can't help but search for the scent and there it is. Coming from the prettiest thing this bar has ever seen one of the finest in all creation, exactly her style. She didn't like to be subtle, enjoyed being noticed. Made her work easier spos. I wasn't surprised i didn't notice her, she probably wanted to put on a show.
I quickly pass the beer to the guy next to me.
"Thanks mate" he exclaimed. Australians always make me laugh, not the brightest bunch on the planet but always good for a laugh.
Be damned if i'm drinking her goodfaith offering. Disappeared for 153 years and expects bygones to be bygones.
I ignore her.
I look back down at my whiskey almost empty. I look up John, John's eyes are glazed over, the roses have gotten to him weak willed mortals so easily tempted. Sigh...
The whiskey starts to fill on its own, her.
The smell gets stronger, by the time i turn my head she's already sitting next to me...
"Funny seeing you here" she opens with.
"You knew exactly where i'd be. What do you want? Haven't you taken enough?"
"I've taken nothing." A faint smile appears, she's enjoying this...
"Look at the world you've left. The humans run wild. No regard for sin or punishment. Heaven hasn't had a soul in years. Even children the symbol of innocence are sent to hell. Much longer and heaven will fall. The balance will be tipped." The words don't reach her all but smile remains on her face.
I go to leave "You've forgotten what we started" this time shes looking at me not through me. "You've forgotten why we separated in the beginning, one "good" one "evil", it's all been for nothing. Goodbye i don't like we will see each other again." I walk out the door. All is lost.
As the door closes behind me her voice enters my mind. "Good bye Satan. Everything is mine."
"To hell it is" | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | The air is tense with laughter and high spirits. People meet and greet as the music blares in the foreground. The air wreaks of perfume and cologn... and maybe just a dash of dignity lost. A crowd in the back shouts at a game of football at the front of the dive. A typical Saturday night in this particular dive. At the bar sits a lone woman, sipping on a margarita, quietly musing to herself. Her golden blond locks flow down to her back. Her wavy tight dress compliments her hourglass figure and a few silver bracelets adorn her wrists.
"Lucy! Been waiting for ya!," god smirks lifting up a glass to greet the devil.
"Evening Jen," reply's the devil in slightly aggravated tone.
The devil sits down and accepts Gods offer to drink. Conversations are limited when you're immortal, so they sit and observe the crowd.
God pipes up over the roar of the crowd cheering at the home teams touchdown.
"See that group over there? Sixteen of them."
"Yeah," the devil quickly interjects. "6 military police, 5 local fire fighters, a doctor, and 4 unemployed though one is a con man. Nothing too special about them. One of the MP's abuses his wife but it's kinda overselling it to call it abuse. He's just insecure. Likes to play cheap tricks to buy her into the marriage"
God laughs. "Abuse is still abuse Lucy. Doesn't matter what form it takes."
"You should listen to your own advice then"
"Hmmp. Maybe if you weren't so..."
God is cut off by a gentleman in his late twenties, dressed in a suave pin strip suit. Your usual black suit with red verticals yet very out of place at this small dive. His hand holds three shot glasses and a bottle of Fireball Whiskey.
"Ladies, could I interest you in a round of shots?" the man says with a sly grin on his face.
God answers almost immediately. "Why not! My friend and I would love to join you."
The devil thinks this is a great opportunity to buy in another soul to hell so an agreement is made.
"Could I get the pleasure of an introduction, ladies?" the man asks arrogantly.
The devil speaks first. "You should introduce yourself before asking someone else's name asshole."
The man laughs and reply's, "Names Sunny. And who might you be, my feisty brunette?"
The devil chuckles and begins to answer, "I'm Lucif..."
God talks over the devil, "Lucy. Her name is Lucy."
"You want to shut the fuck up and let me talk?"
"Calm down Lucy. Not something to get hot headed over."
"I can answer his question myself you overbearing prick"
"Woah, woah, woah, ladies. No need for the fighting. How about some shots?"
The man sets three shot glasses down on the the bar table. The sound of the crowd dulls any sounds of the shot glasses clanking together as he lines them up for visual effect. He looks up and Gods sterling emerald eyes and loses focus of what hers doing. He shakes the dazzling beauty off and remembers his goal. Two of the hottest women at the bar in his house, in his room, under his covers... you know the rest. Sunny pours the whiskey into the shot glasses and sets the half full bottle on the counter for quick access.
"Baby, I didn't get your name. Who might you be."
"Jen," God answers.
"Well Jen and Lucy. I hope you can handle this towns finest whiskey connoisseur!"
"Please, loser. You don't even look like you can hold your liquor," the devil says.
"Damn Lucy. Where'd you get them fangs?," Sunny says attonished
"I have parent issues, why else retard?"
God just smiles and takes up a shot glass. The Devil and Sunny both take theirs shortly after.
"Toast?" god asks Sunny who is eyeing up the brunette
Sunny looks back over to God and is just blown away by the beautiful image. It was as if light were radiating from the blonds figure alone. Urges of devotion and attraction wash over him like a high tide in spring.
Sunny says in a white-washed voice, "To friends and happiness, Jen."
The Devil gags slightly at his toast. The all down their Fireballs and prepare to line up a second toast. Sunny is completly enamored by the radiant blond sitting right in front of him. The devil impatiently pours a second round.
"Two can play at this game," the devil leans into Gods ear and whispers.
The Devil grips Sunny's tie and pulls him in close. "Don't fall for that overbearing blond. Brunettes are more fun, Sunny."
Sunny's attention is diverted from God, the beautiful blond with emerald eyes and an air of purity about her, to the Devil, the tempting pale brunette with lusty velvet eyes and succulent red lips.
The Devil begins handing out the three shots. The slender brunette wraps her arms and tangles them with Sunny's and looks over her shoulder to God who is holding the shot glass with both hands.
"Look the poor girl can't even hold her shot glass without looking like a nun in communion," the Devil remarks sarcastically.
"To what do we toast this time Sunny," the Devil asks.
Sunny looks deep into the Devil's eyes and a thought immediately comes to mind.
"To passion and earthly pleasures, Lucy"
After they all drink up their second shots and set them on the table Sunny's gaze is averted to God again. The devil scoffs and sits back down.
"Where do you two babes come from," Sunny asks.
"Heaven," God answers.
"Oh. So were gonna go for that then are we, Jen? Fine I'll take him," the Devil remarks.
"I figured you could be an angel" Sunny says to God. "You sure look the part. What about you Lucy. Where are you from."
The Devil smiles from ear to ear.
"You'll figure out soon enough, Sunny. Seems like you're not Jen's type."
| My favourite bar, the one place left on earth that hadn't been reached by her touch. It was the smell, brought me back to the early days before everything turned. The bartender John been there for 50years i liked that, i may have influenced his lifespan to keep this going. Not that he recognises me, it's more fun to change my form everytime. Be someone different, new story new life...guess im tired of it all.
John interrupts my chain of thoughts, unlike him he's been doing this long enough to let men drown in their sorrows "From the ladie across the bar" as he passes me a cold beer. I dislike beer. I'd been ordering whiskey all night, John was a better bartender than this something was amiss. Then it hit me the smell... like fucking roses. The smell enters my brain, i can't help but search for the scent and there it is. Coming from the prettiest thing this bar has ever seen one of the finest in all creation, exactly her style. She didn't like to be subtle, enjoyed being noticed. Made her work easier spos. I wasn't surprised i didn't notice her, she probably wanted to put on a show.
I quickly pass the beer to the guy next to me.
"Thanks mate" he exclaimed. Australians always make me laugh, not the brightest bunch on the planet but always good for a laugh.
Be damned if i'm drinking her goodfaith offering. Disappeared for 153 years and expects bygones to be bygones.
I ignore her.
I look back down at my whiskey almost empty. I look up John, John's eyes are glazed over, the roses have gotten to him weak willed mortals so easily tempted. Sigh...
The whiskey starts to fill on its own, her.
The smell gets stronger, by the time i turn my head she's already sitting next to me...
"Funny seeing you here" she opens with.
"You knew exactly where i'd be. What do you want? Haven't you taken enough?"
"I've taken nothing." A faint smile appears, she's enjoying this...
"Look at the world you've left. The humans run wild. No regard for sin or punishment. Heaven hasn't had a soul in years. Even children the symbol of innocence are sent to hell. Much longer and heaven will fall. The balance will be tipped." The words don't reach her all but smile remains on her face.
I go to leave "You've forgotten what we started" this time shes looking at me not through me. "You've forgotten why we separated in the beginning, one "good" one "evil", it's all been for nothing. Goodbye i don't like we will see each other again." I walk out the door. All is lost.
As the door closes behind me her voice enters my mind. "Good bye Satan. Everything is mine."
"To hell it is" | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | The music was thumping, yet still it was barely heard above the din of conversation punctured occasionally by loud laughter. It was one of the more unusual places He'd decided to visit on his occasions, but one that He felt needed more attention. For too long the mortals had twisted His word on love and understanding, compassion and good will to all.
"So you honestly believe in all that afterlife stuff?" asked the young man sat next to him, his heart pure, sat practically on the lap of a larger man who he'd proudly proclaimed was his husband. Jonathan was his name, he'd grown up with a fairly privileged upbringing but had never lost the edge of charity, or the compassion to give unto those less able.
"I do."
"Pfft, not that we'll ever get in..." mumbled the other gentleman, Christopher (a name He was flattered to have so widespread). He too had the aura around him of a decent soul, despite the hardships he had experienced growing up and trying to be accepted for his homosexuality. His disapproving father and distant mother, the social pariah he had become in his formative years all laid out like a tapestry before Him.
"What makes you say that?". A pointed question, one he already knew the answer for without even the need for omniscience.
"Well, I've never heard anyone say 'Hey, it's cool to be gay according to....', well whatever holy text you want to list".
An accurate observation, one He could answer to without hesitation. "Words can be twisted. If you told the same story over the course of several thousand years, things would be lost in time and twisted with each new pen on the page. All men have their own purpose, all seek their own glory and control..."
"And then you punish them for it" came a rich, attractive voice from behind Him. He didn't turn on his stool as his company's eyes wandered to the male approaching from behind.
"Who's that?" muttered Johnathan.
"An old acquaintance. We was once very close" came His quiet reply.
"An ex then?" queried Christopher with a raised eyebrow.
"Not quite."
The voice sat beside him, forcing Him to turn his head in response. Of all of His creations, Lucifer had been the one that had hurt Him. Not through his own actions, but through the ones He had been forced to take. His golden shoulder length hair flowed beautifully down onto his broad shoulders, leading down into what any mortal would consider a magnificent form.
"Hello, I'm Luc, pleased to meet you." A genuine smile flashed across those perfect lips, disarming anyone in conversation with a single motion. "I see you've met my father? I never thought I'd see you in here, especially after our argument..."
Despite being almighty, there were things even He could not see. Lucifer had learned many years ago to operate beyond His vision, the anger generated from his exile alone enough to cast a veil of darkness around him.
"Your father? I have to admit I can see the resemblance" grinned Christopher, taking another gulp of his drink.
"Sadly." He replied, perhaps sounding a little sharper then he should have.
"'Sadly'? The only crime I ever committed was to ask to be loved equally to your other children, for which you cast me out." came the hurt response from Lucifer, manipulating the emotions of His company as easily as one would change clothes.
He could feel eyes shifting onto him, an awkward situation prompting a few curious bystanders.
"Now is -not- the time 'Luc'"
"It never was for you, was it? Always too busy with the likes of these..." Lucifer retorted once more, dramatically sweeping across the crowd with a slender hand. "Always loving them more, promising each of them happiness if only they would obey you".
Everything he was saying could so easily be taken out of context, an emotional struggle that could be played out in any place across the world. The cheating partner, the jealous ex, anything to play to a crowd and sow discord. That was Lucifer's calling.
"Johnathan, Christopher... thank you for a wonderful evening, I think it's time I depart". Standing up, his stool shunting backwards with the scrape of metal on a wooden floor He turned to face Lucifer. "Shall we talk outside?"
A wry smirk came from his opponents lips, following him outside into the cold night air as the two drinking companions looked on in half disgust. Rain pattered down on the concrete outside reflecting the neon lights of the bar in black puddles.
"Trying to love the lepers? Imagine the headlines, God caught in a gay-bar! You'd start a nuclear war in an instant" laughed Lucifer.
"I love all my children Lucifer, even you. What mortal man does with my word, my teachings, is entirely their own making."
"That's always been your problem, you never took control. Imagine if you'd reigned them in, turned the dark ages into light. You'd have them conquering the stars by now!"
"'Conquering' has always been the problem with you. You never saw the potential for growth, the benefit of free-will. You want to rule, to command..."
He let out a sad sigh, casting His eyes skyward. "Why are you even here?"
"The same reason you are, to mingle with the masses. Let's be honest, I'll end up dealing with far more of them than you will. The benefit of your so called 'free will'."
"All are born with a pure heart...." He began to reply.
"And look at what it cost you." came the abrupt interruption. "I remember when you would turn cities to ash at the slightest hint of heresy, and here you are making friends in a mini Sodom..."
"Lucifer, enough." He couldn't control the anger in his voice, the ground trembling under him as the bark of his voice carried through all around him, transcending all matter, shattering the glass of nearby cars with it's fury.
Once more came that grin, the slight chuckle that followed washed over Him with an icy dread.
"That's the God I know".
That, was the night Lucifer won.
| My favourite bar, the one place left on earth that hadn't been reached by her touch. It was the smell, brought me back to the early days before everything turned. The bartender John been there for 50years i liked that, i may have influenced his lifespan to keep this going. Not that he recognises me, it's more fun to change my form everytime. Be someone different, new story new life...guess im tired of it all.
John interrupts my chain of thoughts, unlike him he's been doing this long enough to let men drown in their sorrows "From the ladie across the bar" as he passes me a cold beer. I dislike beer. I'd been ordering whiskey all night, John was a better bartender than this something was amiss. Then it hit me the smell... like fucking roses. The smell enters my brain, i can't help but search for the scent and there it is. Coming from the prettiest thing this bar has ever seen one of the finest in all creation, exactly her style. She didn't like to be subtle, enjoyed being noticed. Made her work easier spos. I wasn't surprised i didn't notice her, she probably wanted to put on a show.
I quickly pass the beer to the guy next to me.
"Thanks mate" he exclaimed. Australians always make me laugh, not the brightest bunch on the planet but always good for a laugh.
Be damned if i'm drinking her goodfaith offering. Disappeared for 153 years and expects bygones to be bygones.
I ignore her.
I look back down at my whiskey almost empty. I look up John, John's eyes are glazed over, the roses have gotten to him weak willed mortals so easily tempted. Sigh...
The whiskey starts to fill on its own, her.
The smell gets stronger, by the time i turn my head she's already sitting next to me...
"Funny seeing you here" she opens with.
"You knew exactly where i'd be. What do you want? Haven't you taken enough?"
"I've taken nothing." A faint smile appears, she's enjoying this...
"Look at the world you've left. The humans run wild. No regard for sin or punishment. Heaven hasn't had a soul in years. Even children the symbol of innocence are sent to hell. Much longer and heaven will fall. The balance will be tipped." The words don't reach her all but smile remains on her face.
I go to leave "You've forgotten what we started" this time shes looking at me not through me. "You've forgotten why we separated in the beginning, one "good" one "evil", it's all been for nothing. Goodbye i don't like we will see each other again." I walk out the door. All is lost.
As the door closes behind me her voice enters my mind. "Good bye Satan. Everything is mine."
"To hell it is" | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Welcome, Lou." God indicated the empty stool to his left.
A smile twitched the corner of Satan's lips. "Hey big guy," he responded. He moved instead to God's right, where a man sat slumped on the barstool, elbows resting on the bar.
"Excuse me, Dave, may I take this seat?" Satan asked politely. The man looked up, eyes narrowing. "Do I know you?" Their eyes met briefly and something sparked there.
"I, I... uh.... need to go to the bathroom." Dave almost fell in his haste to get up, and walked quickly and somewhat unsteadily to the men's room, giving a wide berth to a table with several police officers sitting around it. Satan slid onto the newly vacated stool, picked up the man's unfinished drink and sniffed at it. "Cheap rubbish," he said scornfully. He leaned over the bar and tipped the contents into the basin.
"I ordered you a beer," God said, shifting the bottle over to his right. Satan gave him a look, then turned to the barmaid. She set down the tray she was carrying and came over with a smile. "I'll have a Scotch," he said, inspecting the top shelf. "Glenlivet, what is that, 18 years old? My favourite age." His gaze took in the barmaid, lingering on the faint bruise on her cheek. "18 years old is just matured enough to be desirable, but still raw enough to be exciting."
The barmaid blushed and looked down. He reached out a finger and gently twitched her fringe aside to reveal an angry red weal, then turned and stared at the men's room door. After a moment, Dave emerged and started making his way back through the bar. "Now there's a nasty piece of work," Satan murmured.
He gave God another look, then deliberately stretched out his arm and knocked the beer bottle under Dave's feet. Dave staggered and fell, his head smacking into a table with a surprisingly loud clunk. As he slumped to the floor, the police officers rushed over. "It's Dave White!" one exclaimed. "We've been looking for him. Must be Christmas!" They dragged him to his feet and manhandled him towards the exit.
Satan and God looked at each other. "I'll go warm up a spot for him." Satan slid off his stool and followed the police out the door. God turned to the barmaid and winked. "See, my dear? I told you everything would work out for the best."
| My favourite bar, the one place left on earth that hadn't been reached by her touch. It was the smell, brought me back to the early days before everything turned. The bartender John been there for 50years i liked that, i may have influenced his lifespan to keep this going. Not that he recognises me, it's more fun to change my form everytime. Be someone different, new story new life...guess im tired of it all.
John interrupts my chain of thoughts, unlike him he's been doing this long enough to let men drown in their sorrows "From the ladie across the bar" as he passes me a cold beer. I dislike beer. I'd been ordering whiskey all night, John was a better bartender than this something was amiss. Then it hit me the smell... like fucking roses. The smell enters my brain, i can't help but search for the scent and there it is. Coming from the prettiest thing this bar has ever seen one of the finest in all creation, exactly her style. She didn't like to be subtle, enjoyed being noticed. Made her work easier spos. I wasn't surprised i didn't notice her, she probably wanted to put on a show.
I quickly pass the beer to the guy next to me.
"Thanks mate" he exclaimed. Australians always make me laugh, not the brightest bunch on the planet but always good for a laugh.
Be damned if i'm drinking her goodfaith offering. Disappeared for 153 years and expects bygones to be bygones.
I ignore her.
I look back down at my whiskey almost empty. I look up John, John's eyes are glazed over, the roses have gotten to him weak willed mortals so easily tempted. Sigh...
The whiskey starts to fill on its own, her.
The smell gets stronger, by the time i turn my head she's already sitting next to me...
"Funny seeing you here" she opens with.
"You knew exactly where i'd be. What do you want? Haven't you taken enough?"
"I've taken nothing." A faint smile appears, she's enjoying this...
"Look at the world you've left. The humans run wild. No regard for sin or punishment. Heaven hasn't had a soul in years. Even children the symbol of innocence are sent to hell. Much longer and heaven will fall. The balance will be tipped." The words don't reach her all but smile remains on her face.
I go to leave "You've forgotten what we started" this time shes looking at me not through me. "You've forgotten why we separated in the beginning, one "good" one "evil", it's all been for nothing. Goodbye i don't like we will see each other again." I walk out the door. All is lost.
As the door closes behind me her voice enters my mind. "Good bye Satan. Everything is mine."
"To hell it is" | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | In a quiet little no name town right off a half abandoned freeway yet squarely located in the middle of nowhere, an old neon sign buzzed and flickered weakly as more light was reflected in than made it though the dirty window.
Dust covered everything. Not exactly sand, though the place was a desert. It was much too fine to be sand, and the slightest bit of wind could kick up a cloud of dust thick enough to choke out the sun.
So it was no surprise to anyone when an eighteen wheeler took the exit with the long forgotten number, rolled into the parking lot of the town’s only public building and was swallowed by a large cloud of the ultra fine dust.
“This place use to be an ocean. Fucking sand everywhere. Use to be all kinds of life here. Just a fucking desert now.”
The cursing continued as he waited for the dust to settle.
He was a tall and lanky man with smooth featured made sharp by age and rough living.
He left the truck running as he went inside and took a seat the bar.
The building served as the post office, city hall, the fire department, grocery store, restaurant, service station, pool hall, and when needed the sheriff would empty the supply closet and it served as the jail. The locals where nothing, if not resourceful.
“Fucking hate this place. No idea why he comes here. Fucking desert. Fucking sand.” The cursing trailed off as the bar keep approached. “What can i get you?”
The trucker threw a twenty on the bar. “Two beers and whatever the cook wants to make.”
The bar keep frowned slightly, but the twenty disappeared into his apron and he produced two lukewarm long necks before ducking to the back.
The old trucker grunted as he took a swig. “Fucking nasty Coors. Might as well be piss water.”
The bar, for that’s what was needed of the building right now, was empty of patrons except for the old trucker, and it would be a while before the locals started showing up. So when the door opened again, the keep was somewhat surprised and poked his head though the kitchen door just long enough the see the second man wave him away.
The old trucker was not surprised. In fact he seemed to be expecting the other person. “Already got you a beer. Come take a seat.” He gestured to his left as he set the beer out.
The second man was quite the contrast. Young, fit with a round face, and neatly groomed hair and goatee. His slacks, vest, and impeccably clean dress shirt made him stand out amongst the dust covered interior.
“Dear Lord you look a mess. I do say, I’ll never understand your sense of tastes.”
The old trucker took a sip of beer, “I’m not your lord anymore. Your little punk ass tried to take over my throne. I threw you out so you might learn something, then you just piss all over my garden. Your brother is still there guarding the gate. He’s going to be there a long ass time too thanks to you.”
The second man grimaced as he took a sip of his beer. “Well, I will not get into what happened over the throne. But the garden, That was an act of mercy. You made the humans dumb and left them naked without even the knowledge to defend themselves. If anything I improved your garden.”
The old trucker scowled and took another sip. “You corrupted them is what you fucking did and you damn well know it.”
The bar keep appeared suddenly with a plate of greasy fish and chips, and nearly threw it on the bar before disappearing into the back again.
Both the trucker and the second man raised an eyebrow at the dish.
“Are we not in a desert? Wherever did they get fish?”
The old trucker poked one of the fillets. “I admit, they are pretty fucking resourceful.”
The second man choked down a second sip of his beer. “Well, I do hope you enjoy your vacation. I am off to ‘corrupt’ some more souls.”
The old trucker stuffed a fillet in his mouth. “Like I give a fuck. I just came here to tell you we’re about to break the seals. So you and all your punk ass fallen angels need to get ready to rot in hell.”
Shock, fear, surprise, anticipation, disgust, and maybe even a touch of excitement washed over the second man as he took a third final sip.
“Well then. I guess me and my disgraced brethren will have to pull double duty.”
He set the beer down and headed for the door. He vanished before he made it though, leaving the old trucker at the bar alone.
The trucker took another bite, and promptly half vomited, half spit the fillet out. “Fuck me that's nasty. Who the fuck serves fish in the middle of the fucking desert? Fucking corrupted humans. that’s who. Had everything fucking set in the damn garden.”
The cursing continued as he took another sip of lukewarm beer and another bite of greasy fish fillet.
(This is actually the first thing I've written that I've shared with anyone. Feed back is welcome and appreciated.) | When he beckoned me over, I instantly forgot my grudge, call me crazy but just seeing him after so long made me feel good inside. I sat next to him and looked forward at the bottles on the shelves, I smiled noting that I had helped to create several of them. I took the beer bottle into my hand and drank it knowing God's eyes were scanning over me. I didn't know what to say.
He pat me on the back and said "Have you played shake-a-day yet?" as he placed two quarters on the counter, I retorted with "You know everything so you know I haven't..." he smiled "Good good!" he waved the bartender over a young beautiful heroine addict, one of mine, she was dressed with a fiery red scarf and a bandana on her forehead. As she drew near he said "Two shake-a-days please." she took a couple of steps back and grabbed the dice cup and put it in front of him. "5 of a kind wins the pot, 4 of a kind wins you a 6 pack, 3 of a kind a free drink" she rattled off. He pushed the cup towards me and said "You first" without thinking I took the cup put the dice in my hand rolled them around then put them back in shook'em up a few times and poured them out on the table. 3 6 2 6 6 were the numbers on the dice "Triple six, free drink," the bartender said "what will you be having?" she smiled "Another of the kind I have here." I looked down noticing I was drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon a fine beverage.
God grinned and muttered "Your old numbers." he scooped up the dice and loaded them into the cup shook several times and rolled, one die fell off the counter. "Sorry." God said sincerely as the bartender reached to pick up the die placing it on the table saying "Reroll." God rolled again 4 5 1 2 1. "Better luck next time." she said as she carried the dice cup and two quarters away "Let me know when you're ready for your free one." the bartender said as she went to help other customers on the far side of the bar. " To paraphrase Einstein "God doesn't play dice" he should have added "Because he is not very good at it"." God joked. I grinned as I chugged my PBR, I wasn't sure why he arranged this meeting but I was genuinely enjoying myself. We babbled on getting drunker and drunker through the night, we had mind blowing talks, when it was last call we went and strolled in a park and continued our talks, he never brought up anything that happened and neither did I. I woke up the next morning in my hotel room, the whole experience felt surreal and dreamlike. I'm not sure I'll ever understand his reasoning for talking to me, but I suspect he might have been lonely and nostalgic. Though I still hold a grudge and always will, it felt good to talk to him again after all these years. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | He smiled at me. That same smile that I remembered from the old days. Nothing but warmth thinly veiling a vast ocean of rage that could spout out at a moments notice. At least he had calmed down quite a lot since the beginning. Having a kid really mellowed him out.
I sat down. Putting my hat on the bar next to me. "So, given who you are you have known since you created...everything that we would meet here. And since I literally cannot do anything to oppose you lets get this over with yes? What do you want." I hated playing this part. This great corruption in his design, but it was required.
"I'm bored" he said with a deep sigh. One that could only come from a being that had literally seen every possible birth and death of every possible thing in all of creation. "I've made everything, I even tried turning off my omnipotence for a while but...I have nothing to do anymore. I created every star in the universe, every species and planet the cosmos will ever know."
"And?" I asked, taking a sip of my drink, he always knew exactly what I wanted to order. He knew this would happen from the moment he came into being. Knowing everything has serious drawbacks. Not the least of which was that he could always find me to hash out his depression.
"And...I want to start over. Like I did with Noah, only maybe less incest this time. Create a new cosmos, a new universe. Maybe Ill make physics more flexible or something". This thought always cheered him up.
"Remember what the council said. You leave to a new universe this one dies. You expand too far, this one dies. You would literally be killing, fuck, its got to be even higher than trillions at this point, countless lives just because you're bored. And I can't keep playing your therapist, you kicked me out, we are supposed to be enemies."
"That's only what the small minded ones think. I can't stand them anymore, I thought letting them know me would be a good idea, the blood sacrifice, and everything would be okay..."
"Liar, you knew from the beginning it never would."
He sighed again. "Yeah I suppose. But I...I cant keep going like this. I need something new. Something I could never see coming."
"Careful what you wish for." I stand up. I know we are done talking just as he does. I pay the tab. I always pay the tab.
Once upon a time these visits from him were pretty infrequent. But what else can I do. A creator level being with depression cannot just be ignored and this one was turned loose to create his own world far too early, even the council knew that now. A failed experiment, one false move from him and everything in this reality would be gone in an instant.
What can I say I felt bad for all the sentient species He had made. So I stuck around. Of course the council offered me my own space but I just couldn't bring myself to abandon this one.
I patted him on the back, and stepped outside. I stared up into the night sky. Glad that this young species had yet to invent lights.
The stars were always my favorites of his. | When he beckoned me over, I instantly forgot my grudge, call me crazy but just seeing him after so long made me feel good inside. I sat next to him and looked forward at the bottles on the shelves, I smiled noting that I had helped to create several of them. I took the beer bottle into my hand and drank it knowing God's eyes were scanning over me. I didn't know what to say.
He pat me on the back and said "Have you played shake-a-day yet?" as he placed two quarters on the counter, I retorted with "You know everything so you know I haven't..." he smiled "Good good!" he waved the bartender over a young beautiful heroine addict, one of mine, she was dressed with a fiery red scarf and a bandana on her forehead. As she drew near he said "Two shake-a-days please." she took a couple of steps back and grabbed the dice cup and put it in front of him. "5 of a kind wins the pot, 4 of a kind wins you a 6 pack, 3 of a kind a free drink" she rattled off. He pushed the cup towards me and said "You first" without thinking I took the cup put the dice in my hand rolled them around then put them back in shook'em up a few times and poured them out on the table. 3 6 2 6 6 were the numbers on the dice "Triple six, free drink," the bartender said "what will you be having?" she smiled "Another of the kind I have here." I looked down noticing I was drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon a fine beverage.
God grinned and muttered "Your old numbers." he scooped up the dice and loaded them into the cup shook several times and rolled, one die fell off the counter. "Sorry." God said sincerely as the bartender reached to pick up the die placing it on the table saying "Reroll." God rolled again 4 5 1 2 1. "Better luck next time." she said as she carried the dice cup and two quarters away "Let me know when you're ready for your free one." the bartender said as she went to help other customers on the far side of the bar. " To paraphrase Einstein "God doesn't play dice" he should have added "Because he is not very good at it"." God joked. I grinned as I chugged my PBR, I wasn't sure why he arranged this meeting but I was genuinely enjoying myself. We babbled on getting drunker and drunker through the night, we had mind blowing talks, when it was last call we went and strolled in a park and continued our talks, he never brought up anything that happened and neither did I. I woke up the next morning in my hotel room, the whole experience felt surreal and dreamlike. I'm not sure I'll ever understand his reasoning for talking to me, but I suspect he might have been lonely and nostalgic. Though I still hold a grudge and always will, it felt good to talk to him again after all these years. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | Part One (part two may follow)
Satan slides smoothly onto the bar stood, letting out a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, unbuttoning his expensive looking jacket.
“It wasn’t hard to find you. A creature of habit and all that” he said.
God glanced across and said nothing, swirling the drink in front of him.
The barman walks over and gestures to Satan “What are you having?” Satan looks down at Gods glass.
“Certainly not a beer" he pushes the bottle further down the bar. "Whatever he is having and get him another, he looks like he needs it” pointing to his right.
“Two double Glenfiddichs coming right up” the barman turns and reaches for the bottle and two glasses.
“Scottish? Nice” Satan said surprised, giving a small chuckle. “Well at least you have good taste, quite fitting given the occasion”
Two glasses arrive on the bar with a clink. “There you go gents”
Satan hands three hundred dollar bills over the bar. “Get yourself a drink my good man” he grins.
Shocked the barman takes the cash smiling “Thank you very much sir”
“Think nothing of it” the dark prince replies as the man returns down the bar.
“He won’t get time to spend it you know” he hissed into his glass. The whisky slides down his throat with ease. God gave a sigh.
“You just couldn’t leave it, you had to say something. You had to come in here and give me a hard time”
Satan turns on his chair to face him, cradling his glass.
“So you’re really going to let it happen?” Tilting and lowering his head trying to make eye contact with God.
“Yep” came the cold, empty reply.
“Wow, that’s low, really low, even for you!” Satan’s face became more animated. He took another drink before continuing.
“Out of all your creations, apparently, one of your favourites but yet you’re doing nothing, not even lift a finger?”
“Aren’t you very astute” came the sharp answer. Satan leaned back pondering the response.
“I honestly don’t get you sometimes. You have looked over them for so long only to abandon them in their greatest moment of need. Do they even know?”
God glances up at the clock. “No, not yet, but they will soon.”
Satan turns back to the bar. “You know I have become very fond of them myself, they amuse me no ends; far more than the others you’ve conjured up over the years. Very ironic don’t you think” He emphasises ‘others’ with a hiss. “How many have been lost now, hmm? Dozens? Hundreds? I haven’t been counting since it began, what about…” God’s glass hits the counter.
“Enough!” a few heads turn before they slowely return to their conversations.
“I know what you’re doing; don’t you think this is hard enough for me? Their fate was sealed a long-time ago” he glared into Satan’s dark eyes.
“Hard? It’s your stupid rule. No serious interventions, remember?”
“It can’t be broken”
“Sealed fate? By another creation they aren’t even aware of?” Satan looked dumfounded. "Hardly fair".
The lights suddenly flicker, a faint rumble like thunder sounds in the distance a few seconds later causing the bottles on the wall to jingle ever so slightly. A few patrons stop their conversation to question what it was, some move towards the door.
“Times ticking, I mean I’d do something if I could but I don’t have the privilege, that’s your honour” he taps his designer watch and gives God a smirk and finishes his drink.
“I can’t”
Satan moves in close to God, face to face. “Then don’t break the rules, bend them, throw them a chance, give them an opportunity to do something” he whispers. God looks at him, the internal struggle clear to see. Another flicker of the lights is accompanied by a far stronger rumble, a glass breaks somewhere, a bottle falls of the shelf, neither pay attention. More people get up and run out of the bar into the street as the sounds and shakes continue.
Satan sits up and fixes his jacket. “You know I was the last one I would have expected to plead their case, maybe I like them more than I think” he chuckles to himself “They have a way of doing that to you, don’t they?” He looks around the bar. “Well I best be on my way, it was nice talking to” He gives a grin as God looks at him knowing Satan has done what he does best. The lighters flicker off returning a second later. God is now sitting alone in the bar.
He knocks back the last of his Whisky savouring the taste.
“Very well”
| When he beckoned me over, I instantly forgot my grudge, call me crazy but just seeing him after so long made me feel good inside. I sat next to him and looked forward at the bottles on the shelves, I smiled noting that I had helped to create several of them. I took the beer bottle into my hand and drank it knowing God's eyes were scanning over me. I didn't know what to say.
He pat me on the back and said "Have you played shake-a-day yet?" as he placed two quarters on the counter, I retorted with "You know everything so you know I haven't..." he smiled "Good good!" he waved the bartender over a young beautiful heroine addict, one of mine, she was dressed with a fiery red scarf and a bandana on her forehead. As she drew near he said "Two shake-a-days please." she took a couple of steps back and grabbed the dice cup and put it in front of him. "5 of a kind wins the pot, 4 of a kind wins you a 6 pack, 3 of a kind a free drink" she rattled off. He pushed the cup towards me and said "You first" without thinking I took the cup put the dice in my hand rolled them around then put them back in shook'em up a few times and poured them out on the table. 3 6 2 6 6 were the numbers on the dice "Triple six, free drink," the bartender said "what will you be having?" she smiled "Another of the kind I have here." I looked down noticing I was drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon a fine beverage.
God grinned and muttered "Your old numbers." he scooped up the dice and loaded them into the cup shook several times and rolled, one die fell off the counter. "Sorry." God said sincerely as the bartender reached to pick up the die placing it on the table saying "Reroll." God rolled again 4 5 1 2 1. "Better luck next time." she said as she carried the dice cup and two quarters away "Let me know when you're ready for your free one." the bartender said as she went to help other customers on the far side of the bar. " To paraphrase Einstein "God doesn't play dice" he should have added "Because he is not very good at it"." God joked. I grinned as I chugged my PBR, I wasn't sure why he arranged this meeting but I was genuinely enjoying myself. We babbled on getting drunker and drunker through the night, we had mind blowing talks, when it was last call we went and strolled in a park and continued our talks, he never brought up anything that happened and neither did I. I woke up the next morning in my hotel room, the whole experience felt surreal and dreamlike. I'm not sure I'll ever understand his reasoning for talking to me, but I suspect he might have been lonely and nostalgic. Though I still hold a grudge and always will, it felt good to talk to him again after all these years. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Light beer" said the Creator when the bartender finally cast his attention towards the end of the bar.
"Double margarita, extra salt!" snapped the angel who was loved once, above all others.
The Almighty blew air gingerly on the head of his glass, taking a long pull once the foam had subsided. "How are things?"
"How are things? How are things? I mean really." Lucifer sucked a toothpick while considering his drink. "I've been at the DMV all day."
"One of your more inspired creations." God chuckled a little at the thought.
"Well, I'm glad my work meets with your approval. Have you put any thought into my transfer request?"
"Now Lou, we've been over this. You're doing good work down there. It's necessary."
"I don't need you to tell me it's necessary, I know it's necessary. I need a vacation. Or better yet- I want to come back. I'm tired of working down in the basement."
"I can give you some more help down there if you feel you need it?" God put his feet up on the low rail below the bar, wiggling his toes a little as he did so, seemingly delighted with the feel of his REI sandals.
"I don't need anymore help. I've got all the souls of the deceased marketing processionals. The basement is running smoothly. I fill Hell up almost as fast as I can empty it. The point is that I'm tired and.." The Accuser stopped himself, the apology having stalled out on his lips where it had formed and almost been given voice "and it's not fair." he finished weakly.
"It was your idea Lou." The Heavenly Father fished a few peanuts from the bowl along the counter, weighing them in his hand like he was trying to deduce the value of pocket change based solely upon its weight.
"That was a long time ago." The Light Bringer downed his drink in one go "and besides, you don't need me there anymore, not really. The basement almost runs itself by this point"
"We've been over this." God chewed thoughtfully, "We decided that we need someone to mind the operation down there."
"But it's been so long! I just want to come back now."
"Then who would we have to oversea your operation? Who would vet all these souls for entry into Heaven? We can't have those who are not ready gaining entry, it would cause all kinds of problems."
"Well, that guy from American Idol only has a few years left?"
God coughed from around a mouthful of beer.
"Good one Lou. Look, it's good to see you again, but we have been over this all before. Keep up the good work would you."
Satan said nothing, watching in silence as God paid for his beer, adjusted his fanny pack and then strolled out of the bar. Inwardly, he seethed. All the time and effort he had spent fostering reality television had been a long shot, but he wasn't prepared to have his hopes dashed just yet. Besides, there were other plans..there were other ways to find a soul dark enough, embittered enough and so utterly devoid of hope and joy that it would be fit to oversee the day to day operations in hell.
Perhaps it was time to check his other pet project for some likely candidates. The comment section of YouTube was bound to have something. | When he beckoned me over, I instantly forgot my grudge, call me crazy but just seeing him after so long made me feel good inside. I sat next to him and looked forward at the bottles on the shelves, I smiled noting that I had helped to create several of them. I took the beer bottle into my hand and drank it knowing God's eyes were scanning over me. I didn't know what to say.
He pat me on the back and said "Have you played shake-a-day yet?" as he placed two quarters on the counter, I retorted with "You know everything so you know I haven't..." he smiled "Good good!" he waved the bartender over a young beautiful heroine addict, one of mine, she was dressed with a fiery red scarf and a bandana on her forehead. As she drew near he said "Two shake-a-days please." she took a couple of steps back and grabbed the dice cup and put it in front of him. "5 of a kind wins the pot, 4 of a kind wins you a 6 pack, 3 of a kind a free drink" she rattled off. He pushed the cup towards me and said "You first" without thinking I took the cup put the dice in my hand rolled them around then put them back in shook'em up a few times and poured them out on the table. 3 6 2 6 6 were the numbers on the dice "Triple six, free drink," the bartender said "what will you be having?" she smiled "Another of the kind I have here." I looked down noticing I was drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon a fine beverage.
God grinned and muttered "Your old numbers." he scooped up the dice and loaded them into the cup shook several times and rolled, one die fell off the counter. "Sorry." God said sincerely as the bartender reached to pick up the die placing it on the table saying "Reroll." God rolled again 4 5 1 2 1. "Better luck next time." she said as she carried the dice cup and two quarters away "Let me know when you're ready for your free one." the bartender said as she went to help other customers on the far side of the bar. " To paraphrase Einstein "God doesn't play dice" he should have added "Because he is not very good at it"." God joked. I grinned as I chugged my PBR, I wasn't sure why he arranged this meeting but I was genuinely enjoying myself. We babbled on getting drunker and drunker through the night, we had mind blowing talks, when it was last call we went and strolled in a park and continued our talks, he never brought up anything that happened and neither did I. I woke up the next morning in my hotel room, the whole experience felt surreal and dreamlike. I'm not sure I'll ever understand his reasoning for talking to me, but I suspect he might have been lonely and nostalgic. Though I still hold a grudge and always will, it felt good to talk to him again after all these years. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | 'You knew I was coming?'
God smiled and looked up at the small TV mounted above the bar. 'I always do.'
Satan grimaced and climbed onto the stool, breathing a heavy sigh as he wrapped his fingers around the glass.
'Been a while, Lu.'
He winced. 'I told you not to call me that...'
'What're fathers for?'
'Wouldn't know. Never had one.'
God smiled sadly, but didn't turn his head. There was a news reporter on the screen, talking about ISIS. The wind tore at her coat. Sand blew in her face. But she put up with it.
'Why're you here?' Satan asked.
He shrugged. 'It's been a while since I came down. Figured I'd check on things.'
'Check on them,' the Devil sneered. 'But do nothing about it.'
Another sad smile. 'You know the rules, Lu.'
The Devil hissed through clenched teeth. '*Stop calling me that!*'
There was a hint of amusement in His smile as He raised His glass and took a sip.
Satan hunched forward in his seat and glowered at his beer. 'And of all the bars in all the world,' he muttered, tracing a finger around the rim of the glass. 'You just *had* to come to this one...'
'It's been a while since I last saw you, too. Wanted to see how you were doing.'
'Just *fine*,' Satan replied, rolling his eyes.
'Good,' God muttered. 'That's good...'
A moment of awkward silence passed. Even the barman moved further away.
'I do worry, you know,' God continued.
'Sure. Just like you do everyone else on the planet.'
'Can we not do this?' God turned now, frustration lining His face. 'Every time I come to see you, it's the same old routine. You keep trying to hash over issues that are *millennia* old! Can we not just have a beer? Just this once?'
The Devil at least had the grace to feel embarrassed. 'Sure...' he murmured. Another silence. Even more awkward than the one before. 'How's Gabe?'
'He's good. Michael too.'
'Good... That's good.'
They both took another mouthful. Satan took a second, for Gluttony's sake. Had to keep up appearances after all.
'How are things at home?' He asked.
'Crowded.'
'I'll bet.'
'It's like a production line now. I've barely got anywhere to put people.'
'I appreciate it all the same.'
Satan didn't reply. He took another sip instead. He'd never been... *appreciated* before.
'And I'm sorry for that,' God murmured. 'I know I gave you the hardest job. And there's no one to thank you for it. But *I* know how you really are.'
The Devil nodded and looked at the ceiling. *Dusty bar*, he thought. Must've got a speck in his eye.
'For what it's worth,' God continued. 'You're doing a damn fine job. I wish you didn't have to—I want you by my side again—but no one else could do it better.'
'Seeing their faces when they find out the torture and damnation was a lie sure helps make it worthwhile,' Satan said with a smirk.
God chuckled. 'I can imagine.'
'Is...' Satan hesitated for a moment. 'Will we ever be able to tell them? Gabe and the others?'
'Maybe... At the end.' God breathed a heavy sigh and took another sip, emptying the glass. He got up from the stool and clapped a hand on His first son's shoulder. 'Until then, I'm counting on you, Lu.'
The Devil nodded. God smiled. Then vanished, as if He'd never been there. Satan glanced around but, as per usual, no one had noticed anything.
He drained his own glass, then set it down with a small smile.
'Thanks, Dad.' | When he beckoned me over, I instantly forgot my grudge, call me crazy but just seeing him after so long made me feel good inside. I sat next to him and looked forward at the bottles on the shelves, I smiled noting that I had helped to create several of them. I took the beer bottle into my hand and drank it knowing God's eyes were scanning over me. I didn't know what to say.
He pat me on the back and said "Have you played shake-a-day yet?" as he placed two quarters on the counter, I retorted with "You know everything so you know I haven't..." he smiled "Good good!" he waved the bartender over a young beautiful heroine addict, one of mine, she was dressed with a fiery red scarf and a bandana on her forehead. As she drew near he said "Two shake-a-days please." she took a couple of steps back and grabbed the dice cup and put it in front of him. "5 of a kind wins the pot, 4 of a kind wins you a 6 pack, 3 of a kind a free drink" she rattled off. He pushed the cup towards me and said "You first" without thinking I took the cup put the dice in my hand rolled them around then put them back in shook'em up a few times and poured them out on the table. 3 6 2 6 6 were the numbers on the dice "Triple six, free drink," the bartender said "what will you be having?" she smiled "Another of the kind I have here." I looked down noticing I was drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon a fine beverage.
God grinned and muttered "Your old numbers." he scooped up the dice and loaded them into the cup shook several times and rolled, one die fell off the counter. "Sorry." God said sincerely as the bartender reached to pick up the die placing it on the table saying "Reroll." God rolled again 4 5 1 2 1. "Better luck next time." she said as she carried the dice cup and two quarters away "Let me know when you're ready for your free one." the bartender said as she went to help other customers on the far side of the bar. " To paraphrase Einstein "God doesn't play dice" he should have added "Because he is not very good at it"." God joked. I grinned as I chugged my PBR, I wasn't sure why he arranged this meeting but I was genuinely enjoying myself. We babbled on getting drunker and drunker through the night, we had mind blowing talks, when it was last call we went and strolled in a park and continued our talks, he never brought up anything that happened and neither did I. I woke up the next morning in my hotel room, the whole experience felt surreal and dreamlike. I'm not sure I'll ever understand his reasoning for talking to me, but I suspect he might have been lonely and nostalgic. Though I still hold a grudge and always will, it felt good to talk to him again after all these years. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | The music was thumping, yet still it was barely heard above the din of conversation punctured occasionally by loud laughter. It was one of the more unusual places He'd decided to visit on his occasions, but one that He felt needed more attention. For too long the mortals had twisted His word on love and understanding, compassion and good will to all.
"So you honestly believe in all that afterlife stuff?" asked the young man sat next to him, his heart pure, sat practically on the lap of a larger man who he'd proudly proclaimed was his husband. Jonathan was his name, he'd grown up with a fairly privileged upbringing but had never lost the edge of charity, or the compassion to give unto those less able.
"I do."
"Pfft, not that we'll ever get in..." mumbled the other gentleman, Christopher (a name He was flattered to have so widespread). He too had the aura around him of a decent soul, despite the hardships he had experienced growing up and trying to be accepted for his homosexuality. His disapproving father and distant mother, the social pariah he had become in his formative years all laid out like a tapestry before Him.
"What makes you say that?". A pointed question, one he already knew the answer for without even the need for omniscience.
"Well, I've never heard anyone say 'Hey, it's cool to be gay according to....', well whatever holy text you want to list".
An accurate observation, one He could answer to without hesitation. "Words can be twisted. If you told the same story over the course of several thousand years, things would be lost in time and twisted with each new pen on the page. All men have their own purpose, all seek their own glory and control..."
"And then you punish them for it" came a rich, attractive voice from behind Him. He didn't turn on his stool as his company's eyes wandered to the male approaching from behind.
"Who's that?" muttered Johnathan.
"An old acquaintance. We was once very close" came His quiet reply.
"An ex then?" queried Christopher with a raised eyebrow.
"Not quite."
The voice sat beside him, forcing Him to turn his head in response. Of all of His creations, Lucifer had been the one that had hurt Him. Not through his own actions, but through the ones He had been forced to take. His golden shoulder length hair flowed beautifully down onto his broad shoulders, leading down into what any mortal would consider a magnificent form.
"Hello, I'm Luc, pleased to meet you." A genuine smile flashed across those perfect lips, disarming anyone in conversation with a single motion. "I see you've met my father? I never thought I'd see you in here, especially after our argument..."
Despite being almighty, there were things even He could not see. Lucifer had learned many years ago to operate beyond His vision, the anger generated from his exile alone enough to cast a veil of darkness around him.
"Your father? I have to admit I can see the resemblance" grinned Christopher, taking another gulp of his drink.
"Sadly." He replied, perhaps sounding a little sharper then he should have.
"'Sadly'? The only crime I ever committed was to ask to be loved equally to your other children, for which you cast me out." came the hurt response from Lucifer, manipulating the emotions of His company as easily as one would change clothes.
He could feel eyes shifting onto him, an awkward situation prompting a few curious bystanders.
"Now is -not- the time 'Luc'"
"It never was for you, was it? Always too busy with the likes of these..." Lucifer retorted once more, dramatically sweeping across the crowd with a slender hand. "Always loving them more, promising each of them happiness if only they would obey you".
Everything he was saying could so easily be taken out of context, an emotional struggle that could be played out in any place across the world. The cheating partner, the jealous ex, anything to play to a crowd and sow discord. That was Lucifer's calling.
"Johnathan, Christopher... thank you for a wonderful evening, I think it's time I depart". Standing up, his stool shunting backwards with the scrape of metal on a wooden floor He turned to face Lucifer. "Shall we talk outside?"
A wry smirk came from his opponents lips, following him outside into the cold night air as the two drinking companions looked on in half disgust. Rain pattered down on the concrete outside reflecting the neon lights of the bar in black puddles.
"Trying to love the lepers? Imagine the headlines, God caught in a gay-bar! You'd start a nuclear war in an instant" laughed Lucifer.
"I love all my children Lucifer, even you. What mortal man does with my word, my teachings, is entirely their own making."
"That's always been your problem, you never took control. Imagine if you'd reigned them in, turned the dark ages into light. You'd have them conquering the stars by now!"
"'Conquering' has always been the problem with you. You never saw the potential for growth, the benefit of free-will. You want to rule, to command..."
He let out a sad sigh, casting His eyes skyward. "Why are you even here?"
"The same reason you are, to mingle with the masses. Let's be honest, I'll end up dealing with far more of them than you will. The benefit of your so called 'free will'."
"All are born with a pure heart...." He began to reply.
"And look at what it cost you." came the abrupt interruption. "I remember when you would turn cities to ash at the slightest hint of heresy, and here you are making friends in a mini Sodom..."
"Lucifer, enough." He couldn't control the anger in his voice, the ground trembling under him as the bark of his voice carried through all around him, transcending all matter, shattering the glass of nearby cars with it's fury.
Once more came that grin, the slight chuckle that followed washed over Him with an icy dread.
"That's the God I know".
That, was the night Lucifer won.
| When he beckoned me over, I instantly forgot my grudge, call me crazy but just seeing him after so long made me feel good inside. I sat next to him and looked forward at the bottles on the shelves, I smiled noting that I had helped to create several of them. I took the beer bottle into my hand and drank it knowing God's eyes were scanning over me. I didn't know what to say.
He pat me on the back and said "Have you played shake-a-day yet?" as he placed two quarters on the counter, I retorted with "You know everything so you know I haven't..." he smiled "Good good!" he waved the bartender over a young beautiful heroine addict, one of mine, she was dressed with a fiery red scarf and a bandana on her forehead. As she drew near he said "Two shake-a-days please." she took a couple of steps back and grabbed the dice cup and put it in front of him. "5 of a kind wins the pot, 4 of a kind wins you a 6 pack, 3 of a kind a free drink" she rattled off. He pushed the cup towards me and said "You first" without thinking I took the cup put the dice in my hand rolled them around then put them back in shook'em up a few times and poured them out on the table. 3 6 2 6 6 were the numbers on the dice "Triple six, free drink," the bartender said "what will you be having?" she smiled "Another of the kind I have here." I looked down noticing I was drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon a fine beverage.
God grinned and muttered "Your old numbers." he scooped up the dice and loaded them into the cup shook several times and rolled, one die fell off the counter. "Sorry." God said sincerely as the bartender reached to pick up the die placing it on the table saying "Reroll." God rolled again 4 5 1 2 1. "Better luck next time." she said as she carried the dice cup and two quarters away "Let me know when you're ready for your free one." the bartender said as she went to help other customers on the far side of the bar. " To paraphrase Einstein "God doesn't play dice" he should have added "Because he is not very good at it"." God joked. I grinned as I chugged my PBR, I wasn't sure why he arranged this meeting but I was genuinely enjoying myself. We babbled on getting drunker and drunker through the night, we had mind blowing talks, when it was last call we went and strolled in a park and continued our talks, he never brought up anything that happened and neither did I. I woke up the next morning in my hotel room, the whole experience felt surreal and dreamlike. I'm not sure I'll ever understand his reasoning for talking to me, but I suspect he might have been lonely and nostalgic. Though I still hold a grudge and always will, it felt good to talk to him again after all these years. | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | Part One (part two may follow)
Satan slides smoothly onto the bar stood, letting out a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, unbuttoning his expensive looking jacket.
“It wasn’t hard to find you. A creature of habit and all that” he said.
God glanced across and said nothing, swirling the drink in front of him.
The barman walks over and gestures to Satan “What are you having?” Satan looks down at Gods glass.
“Certainly not a beer" he pushes the bottle further down the bar. "Whatever he is having and get him another, he looks like he needs it” pointing to his right.
“Two double Glenfiddichs coming right up” the barman turns and reaches for the bottle and two glasses.
“Scottish? Nice” Satan said surprised, giving a small chuckle. “Well at least you have good taste, quite fitting given the occasion”
Two glasses arrive on the bar with a clink. “There you go gents”
Satan hands three hundred dollar bills over the bar. “Get yourself a drink my good man” he grins.
Shocked the barman takes the cash smiling “Thank you very much sir”
“Think nothing of it” the dark prince replies as the man returns down the bar.
“He won’t get time to spend it you know” he hissed into his glass. The whisky slides down his throat with ease. God gave a sigh.
“You just couldn’t leave it, you had to say something. You had to come in here and give me a hard time”
Satan turns on his chair to face him, cradling his glass.
“So you’re really going to let it happen?” Tilting and lowering his head trying to make eye contact with God.
“Yep” came the cold, empty reply.
“Wow, that’s low, really low, even for you!” Satan’s face became more animated. He took another drink before continuing.
“Out of all your creations, apparently, one of your favourites but yet you’re doing nothing, not even lift a finger?”
“Aren’t you very astute” came the sharp answer. Satan leaned back pondering the response.
“I honestly don’t get you sometimes. You have looked over them for so long only to abandon them in their greatest moment of need. Do they even know?”
God glances up at the clock. “No, not yet, but they will soon.”
Satan turns back to the bar. “You know I have become very fond of them myself, they amuse me no ends; far more than the others you’ve conjured up over the years. Very ironic don’t you think” He emphasises ‘others’ with a hiss. “How many have been lost now, hmm? Dozens? Hundreds? I haven’t been counting since it began, what about…” God’s glass hits the counter.
“Enough!” a few heads turn before they slowely return to their conversations.
“I know what you’re doing; don’t you think this is hard enough for me? Their fate was sealed a long-time ago” he glared into Satan’s dark eyes.
“Hard? It’s your stupid rule. No serious interventions, remember?”
“It can’t be broken”
“Sealed fate? By another creation they aren’t even aware of?” Satan looked dumfounded. "Hardly fair".
The lights suddenly flicker, a faint rumble like thunder sounds in the distance a few seconds later causing the bottles on the wall to jingle ever so slightly. A few patrons stop their conversation to question what it was, some move towards the door.
“Times ticking, I mean I’d do something if I could but I don’t have the privilege, that’s your honour” he taps his designer watch and gives God a smirk and finishes his drink.
“I can’t”
Satan moves in close to God, face to face. “Then don’t break the rules, bend them, throw them a chance, give them an opportunity to do something” he whispers. God looks at him, the internal struggle clear to see. Another flicker of the lights is accompanied by a far stronger rumble, a glass breaks somewhere, a bottle falls of the shelf, neither pay attention. More people get up and run out of the bar into the street as the sounds and shakes continue.
Satan sits up and fixes his jacket. “You know I was the last one I would have expected to plead their case, maybe I like them more than I think” he chuckles to himself “They have a way of doing that to you, don’t they?” He looks around the bar. “Well I best be on my way, it was nice talking to” He gives a grin as God looks at him knowing Satan has done what he does best. The lighters flicker off returning a second later. God is now sitting alone in the bar.
He knocks back the last of his Whisky savouring the taste.
“Very well”
| In a quiet little no name town right off a half abandoned freeway yet squarely located in the middle of nowhere, an old neon sign buzzed and flickered weakly as more light was reflected in than made it though the dirty window.
Dust covered everything. Not exactly sand, though the place was a desert. It was much too fine to be sand, and the slightest bit of wind could kick up a cloud of dust thick enough to choke out the sun.
So it was no surprise to anyone when an eighteen wheeler took the exit with the long forgotten number, rolled into the parking lot of the town’s only public building and was swallowed by a large cloud of the ultra fine dust.
“This place use to be an ocean. Fucking sand everywhere. Use to be all kinds of life here. Just a fucking desert now.”
The cursing continued as he waited for the dust to settle.
He was a tall and lanky man with smooth featured made sharp by age and rough living.
He left the truck running as he went inside and took a seat the bar.
The building served as the post office, city hall, the fire department, grocery store, restaurant, service station, pool hall, and when needed the sheriff would empty the supply closet and it served as the jail. The locals where nothing, if not resourceful.
“Fucking hate this place. No idea why he comes here. Fucking desert. Fucking sand.” The cursing trailed off as the bar keep approached. “What can i get you?”
The trucker threw a twenty on the bar. “Two beers and whatever the cook wants to make.”
The bar keep frowned slightly, but the twenty disappeared into his apron and he produced two lukewarm long necks before ducking to the back.
The old trucker grunted as he took a swig. “Fucking nasty Coors. Might as well be piss water.”
The bar, for that’s what was needed of the building right now, was empty of patrons except for the old trucker, and it would be a while before the locals started showing up. So when the door opened again, the keep was somewhat surprised and poked his head though the kitchen door just long enough the see the second man wave him away.
The old trucker was not surprised. In fact he seemed to be expecting the other person. “Already got you a beer. Come take a seat.” He gestured to his left as he set the beer out.
The second man was quite the contrast. Young, fit with a round face, and neatly groomed hair and goatee. His slacks, vest, and impeccably clean dress shirt made him stand out amongst the dust covered interior.
“Dear Lord you look a mess. I do say, I’ll never understand your sense of tastes.”
The old trucker took a sip of beer, “I’m not your lord anymore. Your little punk ass tried to take over my throne. I threw you out so you might learn something, then you just piss all over my garden. Your brother is still there guarding the gate. He’s going to be there a long ass time too thanks to you.”
The second man grimaced as he took a sip of his beer. “Well, I will not get into what happened over the throne. But the garden, That was an act of mercy. You made the humans dumb and left them naked without even the knowledge to defend themselves. If anything I improved your garden.”
The old trucker scowled and took another sip. “You corrupted them is what you fucking did and you damn well know it.”
The bar keep appeared suddenly with a plate of greasy fish and chips, and nearly threw it on the bar before disappearing into the back again.
Both the trucker and the second man raised an eyebrow at the dish.
“Are we not in a desert? Wherever did they get fish?”
The old trucker poked one of the fillets. “I admit, they are pretty fucking resourceful.”
The second man choked down a second sip of his beer. “Well, I do hope you enjoy your vacation. I am off to ‘corrupt’ some more souls.”
The old trucker stuffed a fillet in his mouth. “Like I give a fuck. I just came here to tell you we’re about to break the seals. So you and all your punk ass fallen angels need to get ready to rot in hell.”
Shock, fear, surprise, anticipation, disgust, and maybe even a touch of excitement washed over the second man as he took a third final sip.
“Well then. I guess me and my disgraced brethren will have to pull double duty.”
He set the beer down and headed for the door. He vanished before he made it though, leaving the old trucker at the bar alone.
The trucker took another bite, and promptly half vomited, half spit the fillet out. “Fuck me that's nasty. Who the fuck serves fish in the middle of the fucking desert? Fucking corrupted humans. that’s who. Had everything fucking set in the damn garden.”
The cursing continued as he took another sip of lukewarm beer and another bite of greasy fish fillet.
(This is actually the first thing I've written that I've shared with anyone. Feed back is welcome and appreciated.) | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | "Light beer" said the Creator when the bartender finally cast his attention towards the end of the bar.
"Double margarita, extra salt!" snapped the angel who was loved once, above all others.
The Almighty blew air gingerly on the head of his glass, taking a long pull once the foam had subsided. "How are things?"
"How are things? How are things? I mean really." Lucifer sucked a toothpick while considering his drink. "I've been at the DMV all day."
"One of your more inspired creations." God chuckled a little at the thought.
"Well, I'm glad my work meets with your approval. Have you put any thought into my transfer request?"
"Now Lou, we've been over this. You're doing good work down there. It's necessary."
"I don't need you to tell me it's necessary, I know it's necessary. I need a vacation. Or better yet- I want to come back. I'm tired of working down in the basement."
"I can give you some more help down there if you feel you need it?" God put his feet up on the low rail below the bar, wiggling his toes a little as he did so, seemingly delighted with the feel of his REI sandals.
"I don't need anymore help. I've got all the souls of the deceased marketing processionals. The basement is running smoothly. I fill Hell up almost as fast as I can empty it. The point is that I'm tired and.." The Accuser stopped himself, the apology having stalled out on his lips where it had formed and almost been given voice "and it's not fair." he finished weakly.
"It was your idea Lou." The Heavenly Father fished a few peanuts from the bowl along the counter, weighing them in his hand like he was trying to deduce the value of pocket change based solely upon its weight.
"That was a long time ago." The Light Bringer downed his drink in one go "and besides, you don't need me there anymore, not really. The basement almost runs itself by this point"
"We've been over this." God chewed thoughtfully, "We decided that we need someone to mind the operation down there."
"But it's been so long! I just want to come back now."
"Then who would we have to oversea your operation? Who would vet all these souls for entry into Heaven? We can't have those who are not ready gaining entry, it would cause all kinds of problems."
"Well, that guy from American Idol only has a few years left?"
God coughed from around a mouthful of beer.
"Good one Lou. Look, it's good to see you again, but we have been over this all before. Keep up the good work would you."
Satan said nothing, watching in silence as God paid for his beer, adjusted his fanny pack and then strolled out of the bar. Inwardly, he seethed. All the time and effort he had spent fostering reality television had been a long shot, but he wasn't prepared to have his hopes dashed just yet. Besides, there were other plans..there were other ways to find a soul dark enough, embittered enough and so utterly devoid of hope and joy that it would be fit to oversee the day to day operations in hell.
Perhaps it was time to check his other pet project for some likely candidates. The comment section of YouTube was bound to have something. | In a quiet little no name town right off a half abandoned freeway yet squarely located in the middle of nowhere, an old neon sign buzzed and flickered weakly as more light was reflected in than made it though the dirty window.
Dust covered everything. Not exactly sand, though the place was a desert. It was much too fine to be sand, and the slightest bit of wind could kick up a cloud of dust thick enough to choke out the sun.
So it was no surprise to anyone when an eighteen wheeler took the exit with the long forgotten number, rolled into the parking lot of the town’s only public building and was swallowed by a large cloud of the ultra fine dust.
“This place use to be an ocean. Fucking sand everywhere. Use to be all kinds of life here. Just a fucking desert now.”
The cursing continued as he waited for the dust to settle.
He was a tall and lanky man with smooth featured made sharp by age and rough living.
He left the truck running as he went inside and took a seat the bar.
The building served as the post office, city hall, the fire department, grocery store, restaurant, service station, pool hall, and when needed the sheriff would empty the supply closet and it served as the jail. The locals where nothing, if not resourceful.
“Fucking hate this place. No idea why he comes here. Fucking desert. Fucking sand.” The cursing trailed off as the bar keep approached. “What can i get you?”
The trucker threw a twenty on the bar. “Two beers and whatever the cook wants to make.”
The bar keep frowned slightly, but the twenty disappeared into his apron and he produced two lukewarm long necks before ducking to the back.
The old trucker grunted as he took a swig. “Fucking nasty Coors. Might as well be piss water.”
The bar, for that’s what was needed of the building right now, was empty of patrons except for the old trucker, and it would be a while before the locals started showing up. So when the door opened again, the keep was somewhat surprised and poked his head though the kitchen door just long enough the see the second man wave him away.
The old trucker was not surprised. In fact he seemed to be expecting the other person. “Already got you a beer. Come take a seat.” He gestured to his left as he set the beer out.
The second man was quite the contrast. Young, fit with a round face, and neatly groomed hair and goatee. His slacks, vest, and impeccably clean dress shirt made him stand out amongst the dust covered interior.
“Dear Lord you look a mess. I do say, I’ll never understand your sense of tastes.”
The old trucker took a sip of beer, “I’m not your lord anymore. Your little punk ass tried to take over my throne. I threw you out so you might learn something, then you just piss all over my garden. Your brother is still there guarding the gate. He’s going to be there a long ass time too thanks to you.”
The second man grimaced as he took a sip of his beer. “Well, I will not get into what happened over the throne. But the garden, That was an act of mercy. You made the humans dumb and left them naked without even the knowledge to defend themselves. If anything I improved your garden.”
The old trucker scowled and took another sip. “You corrupted them is what you fucking did and you damn well know it.”
The bar keep appeared suddenly with a plate of greasy fish and chips, and nearly threw it on the bar before disappearing into the back again.
Both the trucker and the second man raised an eyebrow at the dish.
“Are we not in a desert? Wherever did they get fish?”
The old trucker poked one of the fillets. “I admit, they are pretty fucking resourceful.”
The second man choked down a second sip of his beer. “Well, I do hope you enjoy your vacation. I am off to ‘corrupt’ some more souls.”
The old trucker stuffed a fillet in his mouth. “Like I give a fuck. I just came here to tell you we’re about to break the seals. So you and all your punk ass fallen angels need to get ready to rot in hell.”
Shock, fear, surprise, anticipation, disgust, and maybe even a touch of excitement washed over the second man as he took a third final sip.
“Well then. I guess me and my disgraced brethren will have to pull double duty.”
He set the beer down and headed for the door. He vanished before he made it though, leaving the old trucker at the bar alone.
The trucker took another bite, and promptly half vomited, half spit the fillet out. “Fuck me that's nasty. Who the fuck serves fish in the middle of the fucking desert? Fucking corrupted humans. that’s who. Had everything fucking set in the damn garden.”
The cursing continued as he took another sip of lukewarm beer and another bite of greasy fish fillet.
(This is actually the first thing I've written that I've shared with anyone. Feed back is welcome and appreciated.) | |
[WP] Satan and God both occasionally come to Earth in human form, Satan to corrupt souls, God to relax and observe his creation. One day, Satan walks into a pub, and sees God (in human form) sitting at the bar. God looks at Satan, slides a beer over to him, and indicates the empty stool to his left | 'You knew I was coming?'
God smiled and looked up at the small TV mounted above the bar. 'I always do.'
Satan grimaced and climbed onto the stool, breathing a heavy sigh as he wrapped his fingers around the glass.
'Been a while, Lu.'
He winced. 'I told you not to call me that...'
'What're fathers for?'
'Wouldn't know. Never had one.'
God smiled sadly, but didn't turn his head. There was a news reporter on the screen, talking about ISIS. The wind tore at her coat. Sand blew in her face. But she put up with it.
'Why're you here?' Satan asked.
He shrugged. 'It's been a while since I came down. Figured I'd check on things.'
'Check on them,' the Devil sneered. 'But do nothing about it.'
Another sad smile. 'You know the rules, Lu.'
The Devil hissed through clenched teeth. '*Stop calling me that!*'
There was a hint of amusement in His smile as He raised His glass and took a sip.
Satan hunched forward in his seat and glowered at his beer. 'And of all the bars in all the world,' he muttered, tracing a finger around the rim of the glass. 'You just *had* to come to this one...'
'It's been a while since I last saw you, too. Wanted to see how you were doing.'
'Just *fine*,' Satan replied, rolling his eyes.
'Good,' God muttered. 'That's good...'
A moment of awkward silence passed. Even the barman moved further away.
'I do worry, you know,' God continued.
'Sure. Just like you do everyone else on the planet.'
'Can we not do this?' God turned now, frustration lining His face. 'Every time I come to see you, it's the same old routine. You keep trying to hash over issues that are *millennia* old! Can we not just have a beer? Just this once?'
The Devil at least had the grace to feel embarrassed. 'Sure...' he murmured. Another silence. Even more awkward than the one before. 'How's Gabe?'
'He's good. Michael too.'
'Good... That's good.'
They both took another mouthful. Satan took a second, for Gluttony's sake. Had to keep up appearances after all.
'How are things at home?' He asked.
'Crowded.'
'I'll bet.'
'It's like a production line now. I've barely got anywhere to put people.'
'I appreciate it all the same.'
Satan didn't reply. He took another sip instead. He'd never been... *appreciated* before.
'And I'm sorry for that,' God murmured. 'I know I gave you the hardest job. And there's no one to thank you for it. But *I* know how you really are.'
The Devil nodded and looked at the ceiling. *Dusty bar*, he thought. Must've got a speck in his eye.
'For what it's worth,' God continued. 'You're doing a damn fine job. I wish you didn't have to—I want you by my side again—but no one else could do it better.'
'Seeing their faces when they find out the torture and damnation was a lie sure helps make it worthwhile,' Satan said with a smirk.
God chuckled. 'I can imagine.'
'Is...' Satan hesitated for a moment. 'Will we ever be able to tell them? Gabe and the others?'
'Maybe... At the end.' God breathed a heavy sigh and took another sip, emptying the glass. He got up from the stool and clapped a hand on His first son's shoulder. 'Until then, I'm counting on you, Lu.'
The Devil nodded. God smiled. Then vanished, as if He'd never been there. Satan glanced around but, as per usual, no one had noticed anything.
He drained his own glass, then set it down with a small smile.
'Thanks, Dad.' | In a quiet little no name town right off a half abandoned freeway yet squarely located in the middle of nowhere, an old neon sign buzzed and flickered weakly as more light was reflected in than made it though the dirty window.
Dust covered everything. Not exactly sand, though the place was a desert. It was much too fine to be sand, and the slightest bit of wind could kick up a cloud of dust thick enough to choke out the sun.
So it was no surprise to anyone when an eighteen wheeler took the exit with the long forgotten number, rolled into the parking lot of the town’s only public building and was swallowed by a large cloud of the ultra fine dust.
“This place use to be an ocean. Fucking sand everywhere. Use to be all kinds of life here. Just a fucking desert now.”
The cursing continued as he waited for the dust to settle.
He was a tall and lanky man with smooth featured made sharp by age and rough living.
He left the truck running as he went inside and took a seat the bar.
The building served as the post office, city hall, the fire department, grocery store, restaurant, service station, pool hall, and when needed the sheriff would empty the supply closet and it served as the jail. The locals where nothing, if not resourceful.
“Fucking hate this place. No idea why he comes here. Fucking desert. Fucking sand.” The cursing trailed off as the bar keep approached. “What can i get you?”
The trucker threw a twenty on the bar. “Two beers and whatever the cook wants to make.”
The bar keep frowned slightly, but the twenty disappeared into his apron and he produced two lukewarm long necks before ducking to the back.
The old trucker grunted as he took a swig. “Fucking nasty Coors. Might as well be piss water.”
The bar, for that’s what was needed of the building right now, was empty of patrons except for the old trucker, and it would be a while before the locals started showing up. So when the door opened again, the keep was somewhat surprised and poked his head though the kitchen door just long enough the see the second man wave him away.
The old trucker was not surprised. In fact he seemed to be expecting the other person. “Already got you a beer. Come take a seat.” He gestured to his left as he set the beer out.
The second man was quite the contrast. Young, fit with a round face, and neatly groomed hair and goatee. His slacks, vest, and impeccably clean dress shirt made him stand out amongst the dust covered interior.
“Dear Lord you look a mess. I do say, I’ll never understand your sense of tastes.”
The old trucker took a sip of beer, “I’m not your lord anymore. Your little punk ass tried to take over my throne. I threw you out so you might learn something, then you just piss all over my garden. Your brother is still there guarding the gate. He’s going to be there a long ass time too thanks to you.”
The second man grimaced as he took a sip of his beer. “Well, I will not get into what happened over the throne. But the garden, That was an act of mercy. You made the humans dumb and left them naked without even the knowledge to defend themselves. If anything I improved your garden.”
The old trucker scowled and took another sip. “You corrupted them is what you fucking did and you damn well know it.”
The bar keep appeared suddenly with a plate of greasy fish and chips, and nearly threw it on the bar before disappearing into the back again.
Both the trucker and the second man raised an eyebrow at the dish.
“Are we not in a desert? Wherever did they get fish?”
The old trucker poked one of the fillets. “I admit, they are pretty fucking resourceful.”
The second man choked down a second sip of his beer. “Well, I do hope you enjoy your vacation. I am off to ‘corrupt’ some more souls.”
The old trucker stuffed a fillet in his mouth. “Like I give a fuck. I just came here to tell you we’re about to break the seals. So you and all your punk ass fallen angels need to get ready to rot in hell.”
Shock, fear, surprise, anticipation, disgust, and maybe even a touch of excitement washed over the second man as he took a third final sip.
“Well then. I guess me and my disgraced brethren will have to pull double duty.”
He set the beer down and headed for the door. He vanished before he made it though, leaving the old trucker at the bar alone.
The trucker took another bite, and promptly half vomited, half spit the fillet out. “Fuck me that's nasty. Who the fuck serves fish in the middle of the fucking desert? Fucking corrupted humans. that’s who. Had everything fucking set in the damn garden.”
The cursing continued as he took another sip of lukewarm beer and another bite of greasy fish fillet.
(This is actually the first thing I've written that I've shared with anyone. Feed back is welcome and appreciated.) |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.