Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons

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Holy Socks And Dirtier Demons Page 23

by J. A. Kazimer


  diaper, eyes wide and horrified. The kid gave me a drooly smile. “Mine.”

  “Yep, it’s your one true hero. I’ve come to return you to your rightful

  place, but first,” my eyes burned into Sid’s, “I’m going to beat the shit out of

  the bad man.”

  Sid laughed, sending spit flying. A drop or two landed on the kid’s

  head causing him to frown. “Hero?” Sid chuckled, clutching his jiggling

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  sides. “A man whose path is lone, and filled with sand. Only he can be called

  hero.”

  “Jesus.” I rolled my eyes, and shifted my weight to one foot. “Drop

  the Zen-shit already.”

  His face reddened, eyes burning with hate. “I will enjoy killing you.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I steadied myself. “Get on with it then. I’m sick of

  your blabbering.”

  For a second he looked ready to explode. That would be the

  diversion I needed to save the kid, even if it meant spending an eternity in

  hell.

  But instead of attacking me, he laughed again. “You as a solitary

  man seek rage, but it is not to be.”

  “Yeah, I get it.” I shrugged. “I’m rubber and you’re glue. See, they

  teach this shit in kindergarten. Now tell me what the fuck you want.”

  My eyes scanned the room, looking for anything I might use as a

  weapon. So far, I’d mentally murdered Sid with a curtain rod, a mousetrap,

  and a half-chewed piece of gum stuck to the bottom of my boot.

  “Do you know beauty can be found in all things?” Sid stroked the

  kid’s halo of spiked blond hair, waiting for my answer.

  I’d play along. Why the fuck not? “Don’t take it personal, but beauty

  can’t be found in all things.” I waved at his bald, round head, thick middle

  and stubby legs. Sure, the guy had a hell of a happy smile, but beauty, not

  even close.

  Ignoring my comment, he continued, “When Mary came to me the

  first time, I saw what you desired. The shell of perfection, but as my

  dastardly—” he smirked “—plan to rule the Heavens began, the shell lost

  appeal. I did not expect that.”

  I laughed. “What can I say? I’m deep.” None of this was news to me.

  Mary and Sid teamed up to kidnap the Messiah. So why the assignation

  attempts on me? And why kidnap the kid a second time?

  The obvious answer was insanity. Full-fledged megalomania with a

  healthy dose of delusion on the side. Sid wanted to be the next God.

  Somehow, I doubted the current Lord and Savior would step down without a

  fight.

  Damn, that was it. Sid planned to use the kid as leverage. A fucked-

  up leverage if you asked me. God had sacrificed the kid once already, what

  made Sid think God would care this time? And why drag me here? He

  planned to use me somehow, but I was too stupid to see it.

  I snapped back to the present when Sid said, “You, a man without a

  moral island, surprised me. You sacrificed yourself for both woman and

  child; yet, you refuse to see the true light of an enlightened path. You are a

  fool, like your heart’s desire.” He raised his hand to the ceiling, and the toga

  he wore rode up north of decent. “His greatest fear has happened. Knowledge

  has replaced Him, and my time has come.”

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  “Bullshit.”

  The kid frowned at me.

  “Sorry.” I shot him a small smile. “Bull dung.” The kid nodded,

  apparently satisfied. I added, “We’re not here to argue religion. His or yours.

  It’s all the same. Now tell me what I’m doing here, or else I’m gone.” It was

  a huge bluff. No way in hell I’d leave the kid with him, but I prayed he didn’t

  know that.

  “You’re bluffing.”

  Score one for Sid.

  “But time is limited, and your very presence curdles my spirit.” Sid

  set the kid and diaper-rashed cat on the floor. “The path I choose converges

  with yours. Only one will be the victor. My time has come, so yours shall

  pass.” Sid pulled out a serrated knife. “In others words, I kill you and the

  brat, and Heaven is mine. Because He cannot rule without His heir. For

  without the Second, there can be no promises of salvation for the faithful.

  Hence, no salvation for Him.”

  “What about Mary? Where does she fit in your plan?”

  Sid laughed. “She doesn’t. Like you, Mary is meaningless. A bit of

  fluff for me to use and control at a whim. She believes she can rule heaven,

  that I would dare let her and her bastard rule. Oh no, as soon as you are dead,

  and Heaven is mine, I will destroy her and her child.”

  “And the kid? What’s he mean to you?”

  “The question is, what does he mean to you?” Sid grinned, as he

  shoved the kid with his foot.

  I nodded once, acknowledging the fact I would die to save the kid.

  Now I just had to wait for Sid to make a move. My plan was simple, stupidly

  so. When Sid attacked, I’d wait until the last possible second, and sweep kick

  his fat ass. The bigger they were, the harder they fall was more than a figure

  of speech. It just might save my ass.

  Once Sid went down, I planned to snatch the kid from the floor,

  tossing him and the beast-cat-from-hell out the door, grabbing Tyrfing, and

  hacking Sid to pieces. Then I’d hack those pieces into smaller pieces until he

  was bite-size. Barely big enough to feed Bodhi and the pigeons in Central

  Park. Would pigeons eat fish-flavored Buddha?

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  Fifty Seven

  “How about a last cigarette?” I asked after a few silent seconds. Sid

  was waiting, but for what? I glanced around the room, seeing nothing out of

  the ordinary. If by ordinary, I meant the Messiah, a pooh-covered cat, and a

  fat guy in a bed sheet.

  Sid looked confused by my request. “You don’t smoke.”

  “Yeah, but he does.” I pointed behind him. Sid’s eyes followed my

  finger. A trick that until today I would’ve sworn only worked in cheesy

  mystery novels or in the White House.

  “Wha—” was all Sid got out before I was on top of him, slamming

  my fist into his marshmallow abdomen.

  “Run,” I yelled to the kid, which in hindsight was a stupid thing to

  say to a kid who could barely walk. But the kid did the best he could. Lifting

  Bodhi into his arms, he teetered at a half-walk/crawl/run toward the door.

  Before the kid made it to the door, Sid landed a series of agile kicks

  to my lower body. My rage exploded, my survival instinct taking control.

  Destroy or be destroyed.

  Thud.

  The rattled of the door gained my attention. Tyrfing. The sword had

  felt my bloodlust. I smiled. Sid was fucked for sure now. I punched him in

  the head, busting my one unbroken knuckle on his stone-like cheek.

  “Open the door then duck,” I told the kid. “Hurry.” The sword

  clattered against the doorframe again sending bits of wood flying through the

  room.

  It was fillet of Sid time.

  The kid and his cat struggled to reach the doorknob. In the meantime,

  Sid had recognized his peril and struggled to strangle me. His fat fingers

  roped around my neck, digging, clawing, and tearing at my skin. Spots

&nb
sp; appeared before my eyes, growing larger as my oxygen level grew smaller.

  As a last resort, I pulled a Larry, Curly, and Moe trick, poking Sid in

  the eye while squeaking out a ‘whoop, whoop, whoop’.

  Luck for me, Sid had long ago forsaken comedy for PBS. My finger

  jabbed itself between eye and socket, and I dug in. The stunned eyeball flew

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  from its former resting place, veins detaching as it spiraled across the sky,

  and landed with a splat. It bounced once, rolled, and stopped two inches from

  the kid’s feet, eyeball up.

  The kid glanced at me, and then to the bloodied eyeball. “Mine?” I

  would’ve reassured him had Sid not continued to compress my windpipe, all

  the while whining about his lack of eyeball.

  For a Buddhist, he sure as hell could hold his own in a fight though.

  What happened to Ahisma? Or letting go of all worldly wants and desires?

  Fuck, I’d settle for him to let go of my throat.

  Bang. The sword crashed against the door again.

  Grayness swirled around my brain. My lungs burned weakening from

  every non-breath.

  The doorframe splintered from the force of Tyrfing’s assault. The tip

  of the blade poked through the crack.

  With my last bit of breath, I prayed, “God, now is not the time to

  fuck with me. Open the damn door.”

  For the first time, He actually did as I asked. The door squeaked

  open, drawing seven startled eyes. Suddenly Sid released me and staggered

  to his feet. He ran for a double-bladed ninja sword attached to the opposite

  wall. Damn, why hadn’t I seen that sooner?

  “You stay right here, you son-of-a-bitch,” I choked out, tugging on

  the hem of Sid’s sheet. My oxygen deprived muscles exhausted their last

  shreds of energy, and in a muscular revolution uncurled and let Sid literally

  slip through my fingers.

  I doubled over, sucking in air, my head between my legs like a

  passenger on JetBlue airplane. Metal clanged as Sid tried to pull his sword

  from the wall. I scanned the hallway for my own sword, but something else

  caught my eye. Or lack of something, I should say. Mary was gone. The

  ropes that bound her laid useless on the floor.

  Fuck. Idiot.

  I straightened at the whistling sound of Tyrfing slicing through the

  air. The sword, as it had in the past, struck straight and true, embedding itself

  in the target of my rage. Lucky for me, I wasn’t in a killing rage, merely

  annoyed with myself at Mary’s escape.

  The blade impaled itself in my lower back, puncturing a vital organ

  or two. I dropped to my knees and let out a shriek of pain. Silver spots dotted

  my vision, but I shook them away. Do not pass out, I ordered. My stomach

  rolled threatening to spill its contents onto ground.

  On the other side of the room, Sid stopped yanking on the ninja

  sword plastered to the wall. He took a few tentative steps toward me. “A man

  who lives by the sword….”

  That was it. No more stupid sayings or Zen bullshit. With blood-

  soaked hands, I twisted around and grabbed the hilt of Tyrfing pulling with

  all my might.

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  Laughter, deep and rich, echoed inside my pain-fogged brain. Sid

  was fucking laughing at me. My rage intensified. Come on, I thought as I

  tugged at Tyrfing. Give me a freaking break.

  By this time, tears streamed down both my and Sid’s face. Mine were

  tears of frustrated anger. The story of my life. Sid’s, on the other hand, were

  of malicious humor. A humor deeply ingrained in the psyche of America, but

  unheard of in Buddhist circles.

  He laughed and laughed, hands clutching his fat sides. He laughed so

  hard that he dropped to the ground and began rolling from side-to-side.

  Suffice it to say, I pulled on Tyrfing that much harder. Killing Sid

  had moved from unavoidable to my one and only goal. Rage kept me alive

  and focused. The pain softened, turning to a cold burn. With one final tug,

  Tyrfing popped free of my right kidney, and clattered to the floor. A sound

  drowned out by Sid’s giggles and rapid floor rolling.

  Using the sword for support, I struggled to my feet, blood showering

  my boots. Once upright, I raised Tyrfing with my last shred of strength.

  Crash.

  Sid disappeared before my eyes.

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  Fifty Eight

  Twerp.

  I blinked, trying to make sense of what was in front of me. Blood

  loss had clearly affected my higher mental functions. If I wasn’t

  hallucinating, a ten-foot high statue of Buddha had just crushed Sid.

  Twerp.

  I took a step closer to the mountain of smashed Buddha, and a much

  flatter version of my archenemy. Laughter hadn’t been the best medicine for

  good, old Sid. He’d laughed so hard he’d knocked the iconic statue of

  Buddha onto his fat head. A bit of irony there, but I was too exhausted to

  figure it out.

  Twerp.

  I recognized the sound of my cell phone, pulled it out, and checked

  the caller ID. Shit. “Hey, Mom. I can’t talk right now,” I answered seconds

  before crashing face first to the floor, unconscious.

  ~ * ~

  “Jerk.” Lilith slapped my cheek.

  I cracked an eyelid, quickly closing it again. The glare of hospital

  light, stench of disinfectant, and blinding pain in my back told me all I

  needed to know.

  I was alive.

  Sid wasn’t.

  Score one for Jace.

  “Hey.” Lilith shook my shoulder. “Don’t you dare go back to sleep

  on me.”

  “Water,” I croaked through dry, cracked lips. My limbs felt weak,

  unused, muscles atrophied. How long was I out? The smooth plastic of a

  straw touched my lips, and all thoughts of time slipped away. Greedily, I

  sucked up the cold water until the slurp of an empty cup echoed in the

  hospital room.

  Opening my eyes the second time proved a little easier. Lilith sat in a

  high-backed chair next to my hospital bed, the whirl of machines and air

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  compressors surrounding her. Her hair was longer. Her face fuller. She

  looked more beautiful than ever.

  I swallowed. “I asked for Jack Daniels and water.”

  She laughed, relief flooding the exhaustion in her eyes. “I’ll get it

  right the next time.” She paused, brushing my hair from my forehead. “You

  had me worried.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “For a lot of things.” I licked my lips. The drugging for one thing.

  Fucking Mary for another. The list went on and on, but now didn’t seem like

  the time to bring up past sins.

  Her smile slipped. “The doctors swore you wouldn’t make it. That I

  should say goodbye, but I knew you’d come back.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because there is no place you’d be safe. Heaven or hell, I’d find you

  and kick your ass.”

  And she would too. That was one of the things I loved about Lilith.

  She’d walk through the fires of hell for revenge, and for me. There wasn’t

  another person alive willing to sacrifice themselves for me. Speaking of />
  sacrifices….

  “The kid’s safe, right? I did my job.” I glanced around the room

  searching for telltale signs of the Messiah. A scribbled coloring book of

  messy crayon art hung on the wall, and a box of cat chow sat in the corner.

  But no sign of the actual kid.

  “He’s fine.” She grinned. “He had a slight reaction to the medication,

  but the doctor promised his hair will grow back. He looks like a bowling ball,

  bald-headed and round.”

  “Medicine? For what?” I scratched my beard. Beard? When had I

  grown a beard? “Did the kid get hurt when the statue fell?”

  “Oh, baby,” Lilith whispered, caressing my cheek. “You don’t

  remember anything, do you?”

  I shook my head. The last thing I remembered was a much flatter

  version of Sid and a bloody Tyrfing in my hands.

  “When I found you, you’d lost so much blood,” Lilith said, tears

  sparkling on her lashes. “Jesus was sitting in a pool of red next to you, a river

  of tears streaming down his cheeks, trying again and again to heal you. But

  he couldn’t.” Her voice hitched and a small choked cry burst from her throat.

  “At first I thought you were dead...”

  I wiped the tears from her face. “It’s okay.”

  “The doctors told us you needed a kidney. Tyrfing had severed your

  right one, and your other kidney was damaged in the war.”

  “Yeah, I took some shrapnel in the side, but the medics were much

  more concerned with my head wound.” I laughed. “I guess I really do have

  nine lives. So they found a donor? One of my brothers?”

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  “Not exactly.” She squeezed my hand. “You have an extremely rare

  blood type. The hospital had never treated a patient with it before. Some of

  the doctors had never even heard of it.”

  “I’m a marvel of modern science.” I grinned. “Can’t say I’m glad

  about that. Too much pressure.”

  “They searched for months to find a donor kidney, keeping you on

  dialysis and in a coma until two weeks ago when they found a perfect

  match.”

  Months? I’d been in a coma for MONTHS? That explained the

  beard, and my need to pee. What had I missed? Had the Rangers won the

  Stanley Cup? Had world peace been declared? Had Lilith found another

 

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