“That was five months ago! And I wasn’t rude at all.” Robert replied
“I know. They’re all fucking insane. You know that.” The other two were listening, keeping quiet. They saw the sense in putting aside their differences for now. It was an old argument, no one was going to win. Jarrod looked sympathetically at Robert
“What did she say this time about you coming here with us?” Robert sighed
“The usual. She and some friends have gone off on a hen’s night at DreamBoys.” Bruce asked
“What’s that?” Jarrod replied pleasantly
“Male Strippers, big club in Leicester Square.” He looked back at Robert. “They better not get too close to Wendy.” Robert answered knowingly
“Definitely, she’ll claw their faces off - or something else.”Jarrod continued playfully
“So, what’s good for the goose ... You gonna get some while you’re here?” Robert sighed again
“Oh no, I couldn’t. Wendy would find out somehow, and then she definitely would cut my balls off. I’m rather attached to them you know even if they don’t get much use.” They all laughed. They continued to pass the joint around, They were now onto their second since coming back. For a while no one said anything.
Jarrod broke the silence, looking at Robert almost apologetically. He seemed hesitant to speak but finally he started
“You know normally I could not agree more with our esteemed colleague Dr Sullen and have nothing but disdain for the crap that is religion.” He glared at Bruce. “But something happened two weeks ago in Farringdon.” Robert leaned forward
“Ah, the Black Mass. You have been behaving oddly ever since.” Jarrod still seemed reluctant but he forced himself to go on.
“Yes, well, they were attempting to conjure up Beelzebub. It was a very impressive ceremony and they were all very earnest and, well, a demon appeared, Beelzebub I presume.“ The others looked back at him – for a moment they were simply astonished. Then they realised that they didn’t believe a word of it. They were trying to anticipate what kind of joke he was building up to. Jarrod continued his revelations. “He was your traditional demon, tall, large, grey skin, red eyes, horns, tail. A text book example. He grabbed a couple of the nearest acolytes, bent them over a table and started fucking them. I don’t know what that was about, maybe they don’t get much down there.” The others sniggered. It wasn’t the effect he intended. He continued slowly. “The really odd thing is that he looked up at me, looked me in the eyes. He obviously recognised me. Then he fled, terrified out of his mind. Everyone else ran off screaming their lungs out. I was left standing there.” He paused for affect. “So fit that in your world view.” They could all see that he was completely serious. Bruce hadn’t known him for very long. He didn’t know what to think and so just looked at him suspiciously. Andy Sullen replied immediately without even bothering to think about it much
“On the basis of overwhelming evidence to the contrary I can only assume that you are mistaken, or simply lying.” Bruce sneered at him
“Oh, how stunningly original.” Robert was amused by this puerile exchange. He looked at Jarrod
“Ah it’s not too fair is it? You could get abducted by aliens, taken on a trip into orbit around the Earth and get anally probed by a dozen of them in succession. But you could never tell anyone about it because no one is ever going to believe you.“ The others nodded their heads in agreement. Robert pressed on, he was on a roll. “If you try too hard to stick to your story you’ll ended up diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenic, sectioned and medicated. If you try to point out your stretched and abused anus as obvious evidence for you case they’ll just assume you’ve been shoving a broom up your own ass and getting off on it. They’ll pump you full of Adrogens, T Blockers, Beta Blockers and God knows what else to erase your clearly excessive sex drive and suppress your morbid erotomaniacal fantasies about being sodomised by aliens. Even if when it really comes down to it you did actually enjoy it. You can’t fucking win.” They’d gone through three joints by now and everyone including Jarrod burst into laughter which just went on and on. They stayed there for several more hours becoming increasingly incoherent. Staggering out of the door at four AM or so Robert managed to take Jarrod aside. Temporarily semi-coherent, more or less, he said
“You know, I’m not dismissing what you said Laddie. If you really did see a demon, well, God help you.”
When they were stumbling back to their hotel Robert thought he saw Wendy. She was taking a stranger back to her own hotel. She looked very pissed off. He tried to give the stranger some kind of warning but wasn’t sure what came out. Then they were gone. He thought to himself
‘Poor bastard! Oh well, better him than me.’ He loved Wendy, he loved her desperately – but why did she have to be such a fucking bitch all the time.
In the foyer of their hotel the other three had to wait while Jarrod made a rush for the restroom. The three Australian girls came in – Cassandra, Adrianne and Marianne. They were also stoned and a bit unsteady on their feet. Andy Sullen made a move on Marianne, the one closest to him. She looked very bright, very friendly. He stopped next to her and simply said
“Hello, I’m Andy.” The young woman started to reply
“Hi, I’m Marianne.” But then she burst into laughter, doubling over, giggling insanely. She tried to stop herself but just kept giggling. She was always nice to everyone and was mortified to find herself being so rude. She tried to apologize.
“I’m sorry, I’m really ... it’s not ....” But then she started giggling again, uncontrollably. Her friends Cassandra and Adrianne rescued her, escorting her away and then up the short flight of stairs towards the row of lifts on the first floor. Adrianne glared back at Andy. Robert came up to Andy and patted him on the back. He just said
“Smooth move.” Andy didn’t reply. It wasn’t exactly the response he’d been hoping for. Jarrod came out of the restroom looking vaguely puzzled. He looked around, just catching sight of the three women as they disappeared from view at the top of the stairs. He asked
“What’s happening?” Robert smiled, pointing at Andy Sullen
“Romeo here just crashed and burned.” Jarrod shrugged. He wasn’t that interested. He glanced up towards the top of the stairs – but there was no longer anyone there.
***************
Saturday was to be basically a slightly longer repetition of Friday. They didn’t get up until early in the afternoon. There was no longer any chance of running into Cassandra. She, Marianne and Adrienne had left by train earlier that morning and were almost in Paris by now. The four philosophers, groggy and disoriented, staggered out of their rooms and met in the corridor. They were all on the eighth floor. Down the end of the corridor there was some kind of disturbance. Very loud music boomed out of the room at the end – opera, Wagner. An increasing number of security personal were converging on the door, some of them were banging on it demanding entrance. They were in return subjected to an onslaught of loud vehement cursing in a language Jarrod didn’t recognise. Jarrod could also clearly hear loud singing from the room, more Wagner- the Götterdämmerung. Those inside were singing along, screaming it out at the top of their lungs. He could see the panicking security guards talking urgently into their hand held radios. Some kind of weird shit was definitely going on in that room. The four of them made their way downstairs not saying anything. It wasn’t their problem. They managed a light lunch – soup and smoked salmon – before stumbling out onto the sidewalk, blinking and stepping back as the bright light of day and the sudden cacophony of street noise smashed into them. They stopped just outside the hotel. They saw several police vans arrive. Half a dozen heavily armed officers in full riot gear rushed into the lobby. Jarrod heard one of them snapping orders.
“Floor eight. Three offenders. They’re big and they’re hostile. One of them is armed with a hammer. He’s knocked down several of the local security personal.” Somehow Jarrod knew that the Swat Team, or whatever they
were called here, was running into big trouble.
They went to the Jaded Palace this time, another coffee shop well known to the three Londoners – Bruce graciously deferring to local expertise. They went through several joints, taking their time, mostly starting to feel quite mellow, each in his own way. But it didn’t last. Jarrod began to feel increasingly distraught; the others also were becoming more agitated. They began quoting favourite lines from favourite violent movies. Jarrod mentioned ‘True Romance’. They all agreed that it was a great classic. Jarrod was feeling a bit cynical. He expressed his misgivings over the happy ending – so increasingly unlikely in the real world. The others noted their preferred scenes and the relations between them. This rapidly degenerated into an argument over which of the Queen’s corgis they would hump, if they had to hump a corgi - if their life depended on it. There was some discussion over the purely anatomical difficulties presented by such a task. Andy Sullen rather surprisingly expressed a distinct preference for Vulcan. Robert pointed out the obvious
“He’s a boy dog.” Andy Sullen was almost contemptuous.
“It’s a fucking corgi dude, once you’re past that I don’t think it matters much whether it’s male or female.” The others conceded the point.
The night progressed into the anticipated and desired drug crazed stupor. They went to one or two different coffee shops just for a change of scenery, then they went to a Strip club. Jarrod didn’t notice any of the others slipping off for a visit to one of the girls in the windows. They were all well past the point of conjugal viability in any case. Sitting there watching naked girls dance on stage just in front of him - he decided he preferred this anyway. It was harsh and voyeuristic but simple and undemanding. Beautiful bodies, soft curves, unavailable flesh, just in front of his eyes, taunting and denying. Robert McDowell watched him with disbelief. He saw the lost look in Jarrod’s eyes. He burst out with
“Mate. You’re a fucking basket case. Just pick one for God’s sake.” His attention was diverted by the pretty young blonde sitting herself down on his lap and about to remove her panties. He smiled deeply. Wendy would just have to forgive him. President Clinton had established the precedent years earlier. It wasn’t actually sex unless you put it in.
On their way back to the Jaded Palace for the second time, they were all quiet for a while. Andy Sullen was thinking deeply about something. He made a comment
“Act Three at that last place was a bit bizarre.” Robert nodded his head in agreement. Andy Sullen was still pensive.
“Every man’s worst nightmare, a lesbian dominatrix with a strap-on and a grudge.” Bruce McKenna replied quickly
“Every straight man’s.” Andy stared at him disdainfully
“Well of course I mean every straight man, you fucking idiot, goes without saying doesn’t it.” Bruce started to say something else but Robert cut him off. He was sick of these two bickering. There was no way McKenna was ever coming with them again.
The peace didn’t last long. Andy Sullen and Bruce McKenna started up again - this time over one of the girls performing. Jarrod smiled – for a self-proclaimed God fearing Christian he certainly didn’t seem to have a problem with sex and drugs. The girl was a contortionist and had engaged in sex acts with a much larger male partner some of which simply defied belief. Andy was waving his hands about
“She is definitely an alien.” Bruce replied with surprise
“But how can you say that?” Andy was adamant.
“No one can bend like that. It’s physically impossible. Ergo. She’s an alien. Maybe some kind of visiting back packer.” Bruce just stared at him
“You’re fucking insane.” Robert broke in. He was getting used to his role as intermediary and peacemaker.
“Perfect tits though, alien or not.” They all agreed with that. Jarrod replied earnestly.
“Yeah, you’re right about that, perfect.” Andy Sullen intoned
“Oh yeah.” Even Bruce quickly replied
“Couldn’t agree more. Just perfect.”
They arrived at the Jaded Palace and smoked some more weed. Hours later they somehow stumbled back to their hotel. The end room on the eighth floor was now empty. The door had been knocked down and not yet fixed. There seemed to be a lot of damage to the surrounding walls. Jarrod briefly wondered exactly how that had all turned out but he couldn’t really think straight and soon forgot about it.
***************
Odin, Thor and Bragi had returned to Valhalla – or what now passed for it on the northern edges of the Plains of Desolation. They were all pleasantly bruised and battered – they enjoyed a good fight. They hadn’t actually killed anyone – probably. They would have preferred to stay longer but it was what it was. Right now they were all doing their best to avoid Freya. They’d heard that she was looking for them, furiously angry with them, though they didn’t have much of a clue as to why. Fucking women! Who could possibly understand them?
***************
The four philosophers woke up at two in the afternoon on Sunday. They left quickly with barely enough time to get to the airport and catch their flight back to London. They made it just in time and were soon boarded and seated looking about idly. None of them had said much – they all still felt fairly wasted. It would take a day or two to recover. They were trying to relax as the aircraft taxied out and then proceeded to scream down the runway. Jarrod raised his hands to his head as they took off. This didn’t help his headache. They continued to just sit there, saying nothing, uncharacteristically quiet and subdued. It was a short flight. Less than thirty minutes later they were approaching the English coast. Jarrod looked out over the North Sea and the approaching coastline. He took a deep breathe. He was feeling morose and bleak – more than ever. He knew that something hadn’t happened that should have - something that affected him deeply. But what? And what could he have done differently?
They were all detained by Customs at Heathrow Airport with significant amounts of cannabis residue detected in their clothing and in their luggage. Robert complained loudly
“We were in fucking Amsterdam for Christ’s sake. We didn’t go there for the cake.” The customs officer stared back at him.
“Please don’t raise your voice Sir.” Robert instantly backed down. He wasn’t an idiot. This petty functionary had the full power and weight of the state behind him and could not be trifled with - even if he was a fucking moron. This sort of thing must happen all the time; they couldn’t possibly detain and question everyone coming back from Amsterdam. Robert sized him up. The official seemed to be weary, bored and angry all at the same time. Robert was convinced that the little bastard was simply having a bad day and fucking with them to make up for it. Still, there was nothing he could do about it. He made an effort to keep his mouth shut. The four of them were taken away, questioned separately and searched. They all complied readily and said nothing further - including Robert. They were allowed to leave several hours later. Jarrod wasn’t fazed by any of it, not in the slightest. There were idiots everywhere – you just rolled with it. No point getting upset. Someone had to do a lot more than this to get onto his personal shit list. He remembered Detective Chief Inspector Boone. Yes something like that. He wouldn’t forget him.
Chapter 15 – The Department of Pride
A special meeting had been called to discuss the problem of Beelzebub’s return. The meeting was held in one of the inner chambers of the Department of Pride, run by Lucifer. Lucifer was present, as was Asmodeous and Belial. None of them had much time for Paimon or Marbas who they saw as more or less addicted to the irrelevant - sloth, gluttony. They loathed Gaap, Lord of the Department of Envy, a self absorbed, narcissistic, utterly obnoxious, vastly conceited prick no one ever wanted anything to do with. He was rarely seen. The three of them, each in his own way, craved only power, ever more power. They had a temporary alliance – stable enough – but each of them knew that sooner or later the others would have to go. They admired and feared Beelzebub – he had
always been the most ambitious of them all and by far the most cunning – though possessed of slightly less innate power than Lucifer and therefore necessarily subordinate. But for how long? Lucifer was certain that Beelzebub’s return in human form was some kind of trick. He knew that Beelzebub would cast him out in an instant if he could. He should just end it – throw Beelzebub’s bitch into the pit or have Beelzebub thrown into the pit – he would have to revert to demonic form to prevent that, surely! But maybe that was his plan. Lucifer couldn’t figure it out and it infuriated him.
Two of the ancient Gods had been invited to attend: Odin, the ruler of Asgard, and Marduk, Lord of Ancient Babylon. They were there as projections only since they were unable to penetrate this far into Yahweh’s realm. Though there was the disturbing incident of the previous night – yet to be explained. Odin was clearly furious about that. The Gods remained trapped on the far edges of the Plains of Desolation and the demons fervently hoped that there they would stay. Only Yahweh’s dominance and all pervading influence and power kept them in their place. The demons knew that the ancient Gods would obliterate them in an instant if Yahweh’s power was ever to diminish and the Gods were to be released. Even as projections they exuded raw intentionality and ferocity far exceeding anything possible by human or demon. Odin was almost bursting with rage over the recent destruction of Thor. He stood there like some mighty warrior, axe in hand looking to rain down death and destruction on someone. Marduk was more impassive but even more threatening in his own way. He was very large, thickly built, strong and powerful. In his face you could see an all abiding patience but looking more closely you could discern a hint of savage anger and rage and a deep craving for vengeance. The Babylonian Gods were far more powerful than the Nordic Gods. They simply tolerated them and occasionally made use of them. In the beginning they were far more powerful than Yahweh himself and they still couldn’t understand how he had managed to prevail over them. They had never doubted that one day they would defeat him and return to their rightful place as the rulers of the universe. In the current sequence of events there was an opportunity to do just that.
The Department of Hate - A Love Story Page 16
