Negotiations With God

by R W Sowrider

  “But I wish you had told me a month ago.”

  Rowen’s heart fell through his chest. “Huh?”

  “I’m really sorry, but I’m engaged to be married. My parents set up a formal marriage interview, and while the guy’s not as exciting as you – he’s just a boring Japanese accountant – he’s very serious about marriage and family. So when he asked, I said okay. And I can’t break that promise to him now.”

  “Ohhhhhhh farts.”

  Verixion VIII

  Rowen awoke in Delemor’s chamber confused and angry. “What the fuck?!” he blurted out instinctively while trying to process exactly what had just happened.

  “Is the Great White Abomination finally back with us?” Delemor boomed.

  “What the fuck?!” Rowen repeated. He was filled with frustration, but still unsure of the source.

  “Shall I show you what the fuck?!” Delemor asked, condescendingly.

  “Yes, please,” Rowen replied.

  “Scooch over here,” Delemor instructed, standing next to an orb as big as a refrigerator.

  Rowen eyed him in wonder. As his memories of past lives on Earth and experiences in Verixion came rushing back, it occurred to him that this may be the first time he was seeing Delemor standing up.

  The contrast of his fearsome crocodile head with his hairy human chest was at once awe-inspiring and absurd.

  Nonetheless, he followed Delemor’s directive and positioned himself in front of the orb.

  Delemor tapped the top of the mysterious device and in a flash Rowen had an unobstructed bird’s eye view of his previous self staggering into a shady Tokyo bar. “Do you remember walking into this delightful hole in the wall?”

  Rowen nodded as he felt a strange, out-of-body sensation.

  “It was your third Roppongi bar of the night.” Delemor pressed his forefinger on the top of the orb and Rowen’s earthly endeavor began moving in fast-forward until Delemor let up. “How about this text message from Yuma, replying to the one you sent earlier in the day?”

  The screen split and one of the angles rotated and zoomed in such a way that Rowen could see both the message on his cell phone on one side and his reaction to it on the other.

  The message read, “Don’t care. I’ve been fucking Francesco since I met you.”

  Rowen watched as he slammed his phone down in rage, “Fucking Francesco!” He then ordered three shots of vodka and knocked them back as soon as they arrived. “God Damn Fucking Francesco!!!”

  “How about this little shithole in the wall, your fifth of the night?” Delemor asked after fast-forwarding through a few more drinks and a whole lot of staggering through seedy back alley streets.

  Rowen was swaying on a barstool while talking to a bar top gaming machine that he had mistaken for a friendly ear.

  “Nope,” Rowen replied, oddly defiant.

  “And how about when you got into a heated argument with the video poker dealer for being ‘a whore of biblical proportion?’”

  “Nope.”

  Delemor chuckled as he fast-forwarded to the good parts. “How about when you were thrown out of the bar onto the fire escape?”

  “Nope.” Rowen’s defiance was slowly transforming into shame while Delemor’s amusement level continued to escalate.

  “And how about when you slumped down comatose on said fire escape?”

  “…”

  “And peed yourself?”

  “…”

  “And vomited on yourself?”

  “…”

  “And choked on your own vomit.”

  “…”

  “And died.”

  Rowen remained silent as he contemplated the last day of his life. It had started out with such hope and ended in such disgrace.

  Without warning, the ground shook and he turned to see one of Delemor’s diamond teardrops wobbling on the floor next to him.

  “What the hell is that?” Rowen cried.

  Delemor laughed. “You know what really killed me? You finally put yourself out there – which I must admit I respect – and you confessed your love to Sera, and what did it get you? … Nothing.”

  Rowen hung his head. “And I suppose you’re gonna give me shit for breaking up with Yuma via text message, right?”

  Delemor was visibly perplexed. “Huh? Why would I give you shit for that?”

  “You know, cause you’re supposed to do that type of thing in person.”

  “Why the hell would you do that?”

  “Beats me. To be a real man or something.”

  “Well, it would certainly make it more interesting for Me, but I can’t fathom how it would help either of you.”

  “I don’t know. I think someone once told me that it was the right thing to do so that you could be there to comfort them.”

  “Who would want to be comforted by the person who just rejected them? By the person who just said, ‘You know what, I think I’ve had about as much of you in my life as I can stand. Please leave.’”

  “I don’t know, I’m just saying.” For once, Rowen was more than happy to hear Delemor’s point of view and he suddenly felt a lot less depressed. Almost upbeat.

  But the feeling faded fast when he recalled his book. “Oh man, worst of all, I put all that research and blood and sweat into American MaleWhore in Tokyo and I suppose that turned to shit, too?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think?” Delemor replied, mysteriously.

  As the gears inside Rowen’s head slowly turned, a ray of hope sprouted. “Well … maybe after I died … somehow someone put it out there. And maybe it actually did turn into a smash hit like that Swedish dude who wrote those three books about girls with tattoos. Or maybe it was more like A Confederacy of Dunces by that guy John Tool who all of a sudden was recognized as a genius?!”

  “How’s about we have a look-see?” Delemor said, placing his index finger on top of the orb. The screen instantly lapsed into black and white fuzz, but somehow Delemor was able to decipher the outcome.

  “Your death did in fact make the news.”

  Rowen held his breath in anticipation.

  “Apparently, the gaijin community picked up the story because of the problem of foreigners being drugged in Roppongi.”

  “Maybe I was drugged, too.”

  “You weren’t drugged.”

  “Okay, back to the book please.”

  “While the investigation revealed that you were just a pathetic loser who choked to death on his own vomit, the fact that you were in the news, and dead, led to a financial decision by 6.8 Books to publish MaleWhore posthumously.”

  “Oh, I like that!”

  “And let’s see how it did … Sales peaked on the three-month anniversary of your death, which was the launch date. They went all the way up to 17. And three weeks later, you got your best review.”

  “Well, the sales aren’t spectacular, but let’s hear that review.”

  “Okay, here it goes. Rating: 3 stars. Review: ‘I don’t have the same sense of humor that Rowen Boozewell did, but I can see how he might have found some of his stuff funny. Particularly since he seemed to drink a lot of alcohol.’”

  “…”

  “Not too shabby.”

  “…”

  “For an abomination, anyway.”

  Rowen was clearly upset and whether that was the cause of Delemor’s vexation or not, Delemor had had enough. “Go clean that stink off so we can discuss your next life.”

  Rowen slogged down to the bathing facility, but as soon as he applied a handful of Ganesha’s shampoo to his head, he felt rejuvenated. And not only was he eager to negotiate his next life, but he was also looking forward to defending his last life, despite his disgraceful demise.

  To his surprise, before he had even finished washing his hair, Delemor’s voice rang out. “C’mon girly boy, this isn’t a day spa! Hurry up and get in here so we get down to business. I’ve got a … thing!”

  Rowen quickly rinsed the soap out of his hair, but
before hustling up to Delemor’s chamber, he gave his face and body a once over as well.

  “So what can I do for you today?” Delemor asked once Rowen was sitting on his heals respectfully across from the reptilian God.

  “Well, I don’t care too much when I meet the love of my life, provided I’m not too gray, but I would like to marry her and enjoy at least a portion of adulthood together.”

  Delemor grinned. “I get it. You wanna have sex with the love of your life. Fair enough. Anything else?”

  “I’d like to have a job that I like.”

  “Do you understand what the word ‘job’ means?”

  “Okay, fine. I’d like a job that’s not too laborious or too boring or too low paying and that’s something that most people would find interesting.”

  “Okay, I can do that. But you’re gonna cheat on your wife. ”

  “No deal. That doesn’t even make sense. I’m discussing work and all of sudden you’re making me an immoral villain.”

  “Morality is relative, Rowen. Do you need a little reminder to help jog your memory?”

  Rowen heard the familiar rattle beneath the table. “Okay, fine. But we’re talking about work now, so if you need to offset something, can it at least be work-related?”

  Delemor made a mock sobby face. “Can’t we do both?!”

  Rowen held firm.

  “Fine. I’ll grant your work terms, but you’re gonna be sexually harassed by your boss.”

  “I’m a dude?”

  “Yup?”

  “And my boss is a dude?”

  “Nope.”

  “I’m not sure which is better, but okay. I’ll learn to live with that.”

  “How about physically?”

  “I’d like to be tall.”

  “Nope, you’re gonna be short your whole life, picked on for it your whole life, and you’re gonna have freckles.”

  “Fine. But I want eyes as green as the Emerald Isle.”

  “Okay, I’m in a generous mood. But you’re gonna be a hunchback.”

  “No deal. If I’m a hunchback, there’s a good chance that my kids will be hunchbacks or at least grow up with some kinda complex because their dad is a hunchback.”

  “We haven’t mentioned kids yet.”

  “I want kids. And I want them to be proud of their father.”

  “Alright, I can grant you that. But they’re gonna die in a fiery car wreck as soon as they’re old enough to drive.”

  “No deal. My kids get happy lives.”

  “Are you trying to upset me?!”

  Rowen once again heard the intimidating rattle of Delemor’s tail. The sound was much closer this time.

  “No,” he replied, determinedly. “I’m not trying to upset you. But I won’t have my kids dying early because of some clause in our negotiations. If nothing else, their happiness should be in their hands. In their negotiations.”

  “I can’t imagine any loser who would negotiate to be the son or daughter of an epic abomination such as yourself.”

  “Let’s leave it up to them then.”

  “Fine. But you’re starting to get on my nerves.”

  “I apologize for that, but there’s one more thing I need.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Forgiveness.”

  “…”

  “Forgiveness on two levels. First, forgiveness from the Gods. There are a lot of factors down there and I’m sure I’ll make my fair share of mistakes. As long as I don’t commit any egregious crimes, I’m gonna need your forgiveness. I’d like your word that I won’t be punished for wearing a pink shirt or praising the wrong God or even wearing a god-damned fedora hat. Because I need to keep going; to keep grinding; to find my way. More importantly, I need your word that my friends and family won’t suffer for some kind of error in my judgment or decision-making. I can’t have Sera or anyone else suffer because I’ve unwittingly offended a God that I probably don’t even know exists. You’ve got to promise me your forgiveness.”

  Delemor glared silently at Rowen who continued with conviction.

  “Second, I need forgiveness from Sera. I haven’t lived a single life where I haven’t screwed her over and I feel horrible about it. I need her like nothing else in this universe. I feel it in every fiber of my being. Every cell in my body longs to be with her. So when I inevitably fuck up, I’m gonna need that forgiveness. I’m gonna need her to look past my mistakes and my faults and to know that what I’m trying to do is to earn her love. I just want her to love me and to be proud of me. And I want her to know that I will do whatever the fuck it takes to make her happy. No matter what you Gods may bring.”

  Delemor paused a moment before pounding the table with his fist. “You’ve really become a huge pain in the ass,” he roared. “Meng Po! Get in here!”

  The sweet old lady hobbled into the room.

  “Give him the wine.”

  “Huh?” Rowen exclaimed, utterly perplexed. “What about the tea?”

  “Just shut up and drink the fuckin’ wine.”

  With an amiable smile, Meng Po handed him an antique chalice filled with dark red wine. “The blood of crocs, the drink of prelation.”

  “Enjoy your life in Empyrean,” Delemor said, benevolently, as Rowen downed the harsh libation.

  Postlude

  “By the way,” Delemor said as Rowen took his last gulp. “I would have passed you after Russia.”

  “Huh?”

  “After Russia. If you hadn’t turned back into a pumpkin when you got back here – check that, if you hadn’t turned back into a pussy when you got back here – you’d have been in Empyrean long ago.”

  Before Rowen could even recall what had happened after his life in Russia, he exploded into a thousand million shards of light.

  Cliffhanger

  Rowen is probably gonna fuck up in Empyrean and hijinks are probably gonna ensue.

  Domo Arigato

  Thanks for reading, you God among mortals. After enjoying the following Reader’s Guide, please leave a glowing 5-star review on Amazon (it doesn’t even need to be honest).

  Also, please check out the blurbs at the end for more R.W. Sowrider-related books and info.

  Reader’s Guide

  Questions for Discussion:

  Discuss the ways that Rowen grew as a human being from his first life on Earth to his last. If you didn’t notice any growth, read the book again. If you still don’t notice any growth, go fuck yourself.

  Discuss the broader question of morality as it resonates throughout the book. During that absorbing, soul-enriching discussion, touch on the topic of Gods making sex with humans.

  During Rowen’s life in Pompeii, he and Francesco gush on and on about the positive aspects of a public, open-air toilet and how those not using them are not living their lives right. Discuss possible motives behind this conversation. Is it simply a typical conversation that people would have had at the time? Is it mocking historians who sneer at modernity and romanticize antiquity? Or do you think it’s that Mr. Sowrider just really really wants to shit outside while talking to strangers.

  The first miracle that Rowen performs as Rasputin is curing a woman who is on the verge of death. Right before Rowen cures her, the woman snaps back to life and looks at Rowen in horror. Discuss the motivation behind this reaction. How do you think you would react if you suddenly came to and a rapey-looking stranger was in your bed with one hand on your forehead and the other on one of your boobs?

  How is the character of Sera a metaphor for Mr. Sowrider’s uncompromising love and respect for autocracies?

  Discuss what delicious foods you would eat if you visited Tokyo. Would you opt for a Cheesy Gordita Crunch from Taco Bell? Or a flame-broiled Whopper with Cheese from Burger King?

  Under various pen names, John Box has written Memoirs of a Douchebag , American MaleWhore in Tokyo , The Stars’ Fault , and now Negotiations with God . In which of these works do you think Box’ style, use of language, and artistic innovati
ons are most finely tuned, most expertly crafted, most powerfully worked out? Basically, what I’m trying to get at it is which book do you think is gonna get him the most pussy?

  What is Rowen’s most admirable quality? More importantly, what is Mr. Sowrider’s most admirable quality? Keep in mind that Mr. Sowrider created Rowen’s most admirable quality so that in turn makes him like 10 times as admirable. Maybe even more. When the gravity of his admirability hits you, yield to your emotions and pleasure yourself without regard to your surroundings. For that is true communion with God.

  While in Verixion, Rowen glimpses the 4th Circle of Hell and views a young Bill Walton being tortured there for eternity. What makes Bill Walton so repugnant to the Gods? Does Mr. Sowrider appear to share the Gods’ antagonism? Does he ever seem to criticize it? How about you? Do you share the Gods’ antagonism for that cumstain, Bill Walton? Discuss all the ways he makes you so sick to your stomach that all you want to do is kick the bellies of pregnant ladies who might possibly be carrying a red head who grows up to be so tall that he thinks he’s a God.

  After Rowen beds Aphrodite in the form of Svetlana, there is an extraordinary scene, at once rhapsodic, repulsive, and hilarious, in which Rowen pushes her out of bed with his foot. What is the social impact of this deed? Have you ever pushed someone out of bed post-coitusly with your foot? Did that person get all hysterical on you and call the cops, too? Fuckin’ A, right?!

  What is the meaning behind Mr. Sowrider’s Cliffhanger at the end of the book? Is this simply to inform the reader that the protagonist may encounter problems in Empyrean? Or is there a deeper, more insidious intention? Like Mr. Sowrider plans on shitting out a sequel that he wants you to buy so he has money for Big Macs, Exotic Berry wine coolers, and strippers?

  Multiple Choice Test: