The Reluctant Jesus: A Satirical Dark Comedy (22 page)

“What on earth are you talking about?” said God. “What fight?”

“The fight.
In the red corner, representing the forces of darkness, Bill. In the blue, corner representing goodness and light me. The
fight!” I stressed, becoming annoyed at God’s slowness to catch on. Maybe the cockroach hadn’t been such a good idea; he didn’t seem as sharp as he usually was.

“Where on earth did you get the idea you would be physically fighting the anti-Christ?” asked God. “A fist fight? A wrestling match? Are you completely mad?” This didn’t sound good. “Do you think Lucifer and I would agree that the future of mankind and the resulting fallout to be decided by a fight? Do you think we would pin everything on something as barbaric and unseemly an event as a fight between our sons? A fight? Whatever gave you that idea?”

I didn’t have an answer. I had presumed. I mean, what other way was there?

“I- I- I-” I stuttered.

“Come on, spit it out, boy,” chided God.

“I assumed,” I said.

“Well, you shouldn’t have,” said God.

“So there is no fight?” I asked.

“Of course not, you stupid man. Did you really think a fight would decide the end of the world? Don’t be ridiculous.” I felt stupid.

“Then how will it be decided?” I asked, intrigued as to how Armageddon could be pulled off in a civilized and cordial way. And that’s when God gave me the bad news.

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“SPACE INVADERS?” I SAID TO
the cockroach at my feet.

“Yes, Space Invaders, best out of three. We agreed to it years ago,” said God.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I hissed.

“I thought I had,” said God. He hadn’t, of course. Once again, his forgetfulness had potentially devastating consequences.

“Well, you didn’t. Space Invaders? Whatever possessed you to agree to that? You mean to tell me that Armageddon is going to be decided by two grown men playing Space Invaders? An arcade game? It’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.” It was my turn to be annoyed.

“At the time we agreed on how we do this, that video game was the in thing. It seemed the best way of keeping things civilized. We didn’t want anyone to get hurt through this. It’s a game of skill that involves the saving of a planet; it just seemed to fit. Lucifer and I thought it was an excellent way of doing things. A war would have just caused too much damage and destruction. The last thing we wanted was a big mess to clean up afterward.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I had initially thought the idea of Bill and me wrestling for the world ridiculous, but I had come around to the idea. I had no inkling that my Father and Lucifer would have come up with an idea as crazy as this.

“You do know he is good,” I said to God. “And that I have hardly ever played the game. Not since I was a kid, anyway.”

“I know. I can’t help but think that somehow Lucifer planned this. I assure you, I have had everyone working on this, such as lawyers and judges. There is uproar, but we can’t prove anything. The consensus is that it is nothing more than a freakish coincidence that the son of Lucifer happens to be one of the best Space Invader players the world has ever known. It is rather unfortunate. Despite what the legal eagles say, I am convinced that somehow he must have snuck back here whilst we were out in the Universe and got this Bill chap interested in the game.” Unfortunately, I disagreed with God’s theory.

“I think you are wrong. I read the e-mail Lucifer sent Bill. He didn’t come back when you were away; he wanted to, but he didn’t. I think we are the victims of a hideous twist of fate!” I sighed. This was a disaster.

“Well, there is only one thing for it. You had better get practicing, and quickly.” I was going to reply, but I noticed that Sean approached. I presumed the conversation was over, in any case, as the cockroach ended its circling around my feet and headed off toward the bar.

He didn’t get too far, as seconds later Sean crushed him underfoot.

“Sorry about that,” said Sean, “disgusting things; we have the place treated, but one or two always seem to get in.” Sean had already returned to his spot behind the bar before I could tell him he had been three seconds away from crushing God. I looked at the crushed cockroach and thought to myself that he was not that resilient; they may be able to survive a nuclear bomb, but Sean’s size ten? Not a hope.

I returned to our table and grabbed Maggie by the hand.

“We have to go,” I said as I drank my beer in one swift movement.

“Already?” said Maggie. “We’ve only just got here.” Maggie downed her drink just as quickly I did.

“I know, but there has been a development. I’ve made a huge mistake.” Maggie collected her things, and we both made a hasty exit from Milligan’s, heading back to my apartment. Harvey gave me a knowing wink as I hurried Maggie into the elevator.

“Yo, dog….” he began. I put my hand up, indicating that I needed him to stop speaking.

“Not now, Harvey,” I said, “not now.” The elevator door slid shut, leaving Harvey open mouthed and at last, silenced. Once we were inside the apartment, I told Maggie what I had learned from God.

“I’m screwed,” I said as I paced the apartment. “There is no way I am ever going to beat Bill. The guy’s a professional; he’s been World Champion. I am not sure if I was any good when I was a kid.” I took a deep breath and looked at Maggie for reassurance. She was laughing. “What’s so funny?” I asked.

“This is,” she replied “the whole thing, it is totally ridiculous; I can’t believe they even contemplated it, let alone agreed to it.” She was right, but it wasn’t the only thing that was ridiculous. If I wasn’t involved, I would no doubt have found the whole thing highly amusing. Unfortunately, I was involved, and it was no joke.

I spent the rest of the day contemplating eternity in the pit. Maggie tried to distract me from my thoughts, but the idea of constant pain coupled with Lucille Ball ensured that I wasn’t good company. Maggie suggested that maybe she needed to return to her own apartment to leave me to contemplate my next move. I managed to convince her to stay the night. I was glad I did. Maybe it was the thought that I made love for one of the last times in my life, or maybe it was because I made love to a woman whom I had fallen head-and-over-heels in love with. Whatever it was, Maggie and I made love all night. It was, I have to say, the best night of my life, and when I awoke, I felt happy and contented despite the predicament that loomed over me like a hulking dark shadow.

It turned out Maggie needed to go to her office that morning, so after coffee and breakfast, she left me alone in the apartment. Once again, I found myself tempted to call Bill. Indeed at one stage, I lifted the receiver and dialed his number, only to slam the phone down. God had made it quite clear the consequences should my dalliance with the opposition continue. I switched on the television and found a news channel. A strike involving garbage disposal collections loomed, and New York City could soon be finding itself with heaps of uncollected refuse and garbage piling up on the streets. The potential turmoil had city officials on the back foot, and it seemed that the dissatisfied garbage collector’s demands would be met before the industrial action began. The news report informed me that the city had initially threatened to fire any strikers, but thanks to the intervention of lawyers on behalf of the garbage workers union, it seemed that firing the striking workers would have been illegal. It gave me an idea. I checked Nancy’s schedule and, once satisfied, that the coast was clear, I called Bob.

“I have an idea,” I said after updating Bob on the previous day’s developments. “Why don’t I see a lawyer, maybe even Maggie, and go on strike? I think I may have a good case.” Bob didn’t reply at first as he considered my suggestion.

“Do you think God would accept that? Do you think he would fear legal action?” I wasn’t totally sure.

“Think of the bad publicity,” I said. “He wouldn’t want that.”

“What are your grounds for striking, if you did strike?” asked Bob. I had considered it in great depth. There were numerous grounds I felt that justified strike action. “Insufficient training, no pay, lack of health plan, unsociable hours, hazardous working conditions; the list is endless. Any decent lawyer would rip God’s lawyers apart. My strike would be legal and therefore, as I see things, I couldn’t be condemned to the pit until my demands were met.”

“And what exactly are your demands?” asked Bob, sounding a little dubious that my suggestion would work.

“I need more time to prepare and to get to Bill’s standard of video game playing. I guess I need at least an extra two years and back pay, which I know I wouldn’t get, but it would mean a stalemate and years of legal wrangling. My idea is to tie this up in the courts for years until God tires of it and finds someone else.” I knew I was clutching at straws, but I knew that when all else failed, hire a lawyer.

“I’m not convinced your plan is entirely foolproof,” said Bob. “Wouldn’t you be better of spending your time trying to learn how to play Space Invaders and at least attempting to put up a fight? I could get over there, and we could search for a machine you could practice on. Don’t you think you are antagonizing God? And anyway, didn’t he say there was no going back on any of this?” Bob had a point, but even if we did find a machine, which according to Bill’s column, were very hard to find, how could I ever get up to Bill’s standard of play? I explained this to Bob, who rather reluctantly agreed that maybe striking and hiring the services of an employment lawyer was my only option.

Walter, who had been sitting on the sofa the whole time I had been conversing with Bob, raised his head.

“I’ll feed you in a minute,” I said as I cupped the telephone receiver. Walter rose and stretched.

“That really won’t be necessary,” he said. I told Bob I would call him back and hung up the phone.

“How long have you been listening?” I asked God as Walter jumped down from the sofa and walked toward my feet.

“Long enough,” replied God. It won’t work, your little idea. Do you know who I’ve got up there?” Walter looked up at the ceiling. “I have some of the greatest lawyers who ever lived up there, that’s who, and I assure you I would fight you vigorously in any court. A strike? Oh please.” I wasn’t sure if he was bluffing or not.

“Well, I am sorry you feel that way, but do you want your name dragged through the courts?” I was sure he wouldn’t.

“It is every day, my dear boy,” explained God. “Have you never taken an oath? Have you not seen Court TV?” He had a point; his name was always being dragged through the courts. “I will give you your back pay if it means so much to you,” said God indignantly. He knew that was not the reason I wanted to strike, but his implication that I was only after money was designed to provoke me into feeling guilty. It didn’t work.

“Thanks, that’s a start,” I said not falling into his trap. “I do have other grounds for striking, though.”

“Which are?” said God. I was getting to him. He was bluffing, I could tell.

“Lack of training,” I answered.

“Is that it? Is that all you’ve got?” mocked God. “It won’t hold up. The courts won’t entertain that. I have provided training, on-the-job training,” He countered. He had a point.

“Ok then,” I said as I felt my confidence waning, “not enough vacation days.” I was clutching at straws.

“You work from home,” said God. He was right, of course. What chance did I have negotiating with God? What lawyer would take my case? What court would listen? Despite everything, despite all the avenues that existed for the rest of the population when faced with unscrupulous employers, he was God, and there was no loophole, no basis for striking, no legal way out, and with no way of ever beating Bill at Space Invaders, I was doomed and so were the souls of millions. What I needed was a miracle. And that miracle came from a most unlikely source just in the nick of time.

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