The Reluctant Jesus: A Satirical Dark Comedy (21 page)

CHAPTER

MAGGIE AND BOB WERE IN
total agreement with God. They had both arrived at my apartment promptly at six, and I relayed the day’s events from my lunch with Bill to God’s visit.

“Do you think he is watching us now?” asked Maggie, looking around the room. I had taken the precaution of locking Walter into the bathroom, much to his disgust, so I felt pretty confident our discussion was private.

“No, I think we are fine,” I said.

“Well, there is not much to debate,” said Bob. “Quite simply, you are going to have to win. I am sure Bill is thinking exactly the same thing, I guarantee he is going to put up a fight, and I am sure the thought of spending eternity languishing in the ‘pit’ appeals to him as much as it does to you.” Bob was right, of course. It looked as if I had no choice. “Are you confident that you can kick this guy’s ass?” asked Bob.

There was no doubt in my mind I could, but as a precaution, Maggie recommended martial arts training and a couple of sessions at a boxing gym.

“Just in case,” she said. “Better to be safe than sorry,” she added, unsure whether she had hurt my feelings. She hadn’t. I understood their concern, but I was sure if they saw Bill, they would realize that they needn’t be worried. I agreed that I would take some exercise courses and condition myself. I did, however, refuse martial arts training, but promised I would maybe do some punch bag work.

“What’s next?” asked Maggie. “Do we just sit around and wait?”

I wasn’t sure of the answer, but I couldn’t see what else we could do. “I suppose so. There was talk of another miracle. But when? I don’t know.”

Bob looked at his watch. “Nancy’s shift finishes in an hour. I have to leave.” I looked at Maggie, hoping she also didn’t have an excuse to leave. If meeting Maggie was a result of me being the Messiah, then I supposed it wasn’t such a bad thing. She stayed over that night, and we both realized that our relationship was becoming more than a casual fling.

An uneventful week passed. I did not hear from God at all, despite encouraging Walter to speak. Nor did I hear from Bill. I was tempted to call him, but each time the thought entered my head, it was accompanied by an image of the “pit” and God’s description of it. Whilst God chastised me he had elaborately described the location, reserved exclusively for those who incurred not only the wrath of God but had also displeased Lucifer. I won’t go into current residents of the pit, but I was assured that several former dictators and a couple of lawyers were currently spending eternity in a place that I was assured was worse than Hell.

Apparently, residents of the pit were in continual pain that never abated, mainly due to the scorching flames and heat that was several hundred degrees hotter than Hell. They were subjected to what can only be described as constant torture that was unimaginable, but it did include reruns of
I Love Lucy, The Golden Girls,
and
Mork and Mindy
continuously played on giant TV screens while Icelandic whale music was piped in twenty-four hours a day.

While I had assumed Lucifer administered the pit, I was surprised to discover it was a joint venture and that my Father and Lucifer had equal shares in it. I knew for sure I wanted to avoid the pit, but felt guilty that I was going to have to condemn poor Bill to it. God, I had also discovered, was well aware of Lucifer’s intention not to go by the script and his desire to win, and despite consulting his legal team for advice, the ruling, it seemed, due to God’s failure to proofread the Bible, made what was written in the book of Revelation null and void. Therefore, I had to expect that Bill was going to come at me as hard as he could. I tried to imagine Bill fighting, but it was inconceivable that for one minute Bill could muster enough strength to win our confrontation. As promised, I had attended a gym and had also thrown a few punches at a punching bag, encouraged by Maggie, who had become my constant companion throughout the week.

Maggie had practically moved into my apartment. Each day, she would arrive with more clothes. Her toothbrush stood next to mine in my bathroom, and the place seemed empty when she was not there when she needed to attend to work during the day.

I did make a visit to my office, where I was met by applause from my colleagues, exuberant from the contract I had secured, thus ensuring inflated bonuses for them. I was their hero. Henry insisted I continue my vacation, leave and relax. I picked up a copy of
Bytes
to read Bill’s columns. It seemed he hadn’t the luxury of not working as I did, though, with two million in the bank, I supposed if he wanted to, he could have taken a vacation. His column was quite good, and his Space Invader column was quite informative and entertaining. I wondered how poor Bill was preparing for Armageddon. I doubted he had joined a gym, and there was no way, not even with Lucifer’s help, that I could see him suddenly becoming an expert in any type of fighting style. I guessed Bill was probably partying every night with the twins and enjoying his life while he could before he was banished to the pit. It pained me every time I thought about poor Bill, sweating as they forced him to watch the annoying antics of Lucille and Desi, The Golden Girls, and Robin Williams day in, day out, for all eternity, as whale music played in the background.

Bob had taken advantage of Nancy’s profession to find out how the Giuliani terrorist investigation was going. Nancy had told him they had assigned her to the case, as she had been an attending officer at the scene. The case, though, was cold. The authorities had no leads, and the descriptions of the man aboard the motorized surfboard, obtained from various witnesses, had produced some bizarre artist impressions and photo fits. Not one resembled yours truly. I was a little upset to discover that one or two witnesses had described the terrorist as rotund and portly.

The other significant event of the week was the news story that a group of Boy Scouts were suing McHungry’s. Twenty or so visiting Scouts from out of town had contracted mild food poisoning after eating fish sandwiches from a McHungry’s located near to Central Park. While a McHungry’s spokesman declined to elaborate, the press had discovered that McHungry’s was looking into a batch of fish that might have been stored incorrectly next to contaminated anchovies at one of their distribution facilities. The scouts probably had a good case, especially as the meals they had eaten had been free, courtesy of promotional vouchers.

Also in the news that week was a fascinating story from Peru. Llamas had been put on the protected species list, and their culling for meat production purposes had been banned. This was due entirely to the publicity and the subsequent public outcry the llama’s cause had gained after the Giuliani incident.

It was exactly two weeks from when I had first spoken to him that I heard from God again. Maggie and I had ventured to Milligan’s for a nightcap, and it was there that once again, God managed to ruin my day. Maggie and I, now established as a bona fide couple found our usual booth, and Sean, who at last called me Seth, had already poured and served our drinks as I collected them from the bar. He asked me if I had seen my friend in the snappy suit lately; a certain waitress was keen to meet up with him. I told Sean I hadn’t, but as soon as I saw him, I would let him know. Unfortunately for Bill, it was likely that the next time I saw him, the last thing on his mind would be a date with a waitress. Once I had our drinks, I returned to Maggie and placed them on our table.

“I am just popping to the bathroom,” I said as Maggie took a sip of her drink. It was whilst I was on my way to the bathroom that I was intercepted by God.

“You are not taking this very seriously, are you?” I was startled. I recognized the voice, but could not see where it was coming. I looked around the bar. There were no animals present, and I was definitely alone. Maggie saw me looking around and waved. I waved back as I continued to scan the bar. It was quiet; in fact, apart from Maggie, Sean, and I there were only two other customers and they were at the far end of the bar, well out of earshot.

“Down here, you idiot,” said God. I looked down at the floor and saw something crawling on the ground. It was a cockroach.

“You can’t be serious,” I said. “Why didn’t you just call?” I asked. The cockroach appeared to be circling around my feet.

“I would have, but since Maggie moved in, your phone is continually busy or off the hook. What are you two doing up there?” God asked. The answer was obvious, but I didn’t reply. “I also see you have been keeping Walter in the bathroom. Let me tell you, he is not at all pleased with it.” What God had said was true. So God wouldn’t interrupt our lovemaking, I had begun to lock Walter in the bathroom. Walter, I had thought, was becoming accustomed to this new routine, but obviously God had more insight into his moods than I had.

“A cockroach, urgh,” I said, “could you not think of anything better?”

“Hey,” said God, sounding offended “this is still one of my creations. I will have you know that these little guys come in for a lot of undue stick; you know they are very resilient.” I had heard in the event of nuclear holocaust, cockroaches would very likely be the only surviving species. I wondered if God did indeed have a bigger plan for them. All the same, it was a little disconcerting talking to a bug, even if they were resilient and likely to one day rule the planet. I dismissed the thought from my head. What was more pressing was God’s sudden reappearance into my life. God sounded annoyed.

“You sound annoyed,” I said.

“I am.”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed,” said God as he continued to crawl in a circle around my feet.

“What’s the problem?” I asked, looking around to ensure that no one, not even Maggie, could see me conversing with the insect at my feet.

“The problem is,” said God “is that you are not taking this seriously enough. You don’t seem to have even attempted to prepare for Armageddon and the conflict ahead. I thought that maybe I was being too hard on you. That’s why I have laid low for the past few days. I was hoping you would be a little proactive. It seems I was mistaken in thinking you could be. My spies tell me you are too busy wooing Maggie, who, I have to say, is looking delightful this evening. But that isn’t the point. You should be training, getting in some practice. Do you want to spend eternity in the pit?” I didn’t, but I thought God was being paranoid. I had been preparing—I had joined a gym, and I had lost even more weight.

“I appreciate that,” I said, “the fact you have left me to my own devices and are letting me prepare my way.”

“Really?” said God “Is that so?” There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“Yes really,” I said upset that God was taking this tone. I didn’t see what the big deal was. He must have seen Bill, or at least his spies must have. He must have realized that even I would have no trouble in dispatching Bill and thus winning the final conflict and saving the earth, ensuring God’s continued rule. I could not understand his concern.

“Then why, pray tell, have you been spending your free time reading magazines, philandering, and basically not in preparation?” he blustered.

“I have joined a gym,” I said “and learned how to throw a punch,” I added defensively. The roach stopped circling for a second, and I was positive it looked skyward at me before continuing its circumnavigation of my feet.

“You know they want to win, don’t you?” said God. He sounded perplexed. “Lucifer and his son, you do know that, don’t you?” he reiterated.

“Yes, I am sure they do, but don’t you think you are maybe overreacting?” I replied.

“Overreacting? Overreacting? We are talking about Armageddon. Do you not realize the responsibility you have? Do you not know what we are facing? I can’t help thinking that somehow Lucifer has gotten one over on me. How, I don’t know, because he was with me for the last thirty years. Let me tell you this: they are not messing about. They are serious about this.” He sounded exasperated.

“Just relax,” I said. “It won’t be a problem. You know I wrestled in high school some?” That was true; I had been a good wrestler. My uncle Jacob had been Navy champion, and he had taught me several moves. Even if I couldn’t knock Bill out, I would surely out wrestle him.

“Wrestle? What good will that do you?” said God. It seemed he was genuinely concerned that there was a possibility I could lose.

“You know, if I get him on the ground, I know some good moves,” I replied, trying to explain that I had thought about my fight with Bill.

“Never mind wrestling, I can’t believe you haven’t started any preparation. It’s beyond me,” said God. Was he not listening? I felt I needed to reiterate a few things.

“Well, despite what you may think or have heard, I am preparing. I am fitter than I was last week. I know how to throw a punch, and I know for a fact that I can wrestle the ass out of Bill. Have you seen him? I can’t believe you could even consider he would be able to beat me in a fight. Have a little faith in me; I am not going to lose this for you.”

God didn’t reply straight away. No doubt he realized he was being over cautious and was calming down. I expected an apology was on its way. When he did eventually speak, he spoke clearly, slowly, and deliberately.

“What fight?” he asked.

The roach on the floor stopped circling and seemed once again to be staring directly at me.

“The fight, the final conflict, the battle between the anti-Christ and yours truly. Armageddon, you know; the main event.” I was surprised I needed to remind God of this.