by Zack Murphy
Dana Plough’s mouth watered at the thought of anything that would stay in her stomach. Manuel pulled into an out of the way burrito stand and parked the car. It was the type of place in which Dana Plough would never be caught dead, unless she was craving a guacamole-covered tortilla stuffed with beef and cheese.
Manuel did the ordering since she refused to leave the car and be seen. Her husband, whom she had never introduced to Manuel, volunteered to get out and place the order but she vehemently dissuaded him from doing so. She insisted that he reflected on her as a public figure and that she wouldn’t have him seen in a dump like this.
While the order was filled Manuel talked to his cousin who ran the stand. They discussed how he would never understand the fascination his bosses had with wanting to be seen as the common folk without ever having come in contact with the very people they championed.
*****
Actor Jonathan Frakes nervously twitched as he wandered the aisles of a video store adjacent to the hotel. He would from time to time research such places to see how many of his movies had been checked out. He was disappointed to find that only one of his many films had left the shelf.
He was even more disturbed that he had merely a supporting role in the movie that was gone. He couldn’t help but feel dejected by the overwhelming lack of support the clerks gave him when he queried about a lesser-known project he had done called Shark Bait Beach Party IV in 3D, of which he quite proud. If someone was going to be in charge of giving people suggestions about what movies people should watch, they should at least be familiar with the classics.
He patrolled the store, searching for passers-by who might seem tempted to rent one of his fine cinematic masterpieces. He didn’t want to come off too needy or overly ostentatious when prevailing upon the masses to take a chance on him. He wanted them to get the movies for their merit not because a handsome well known actor told them to.
He spent his time in the cool air-conditioned store attempting to keep the sweat that swept down his face causing his mascara to run from becoming a story in Star Magazine. He paced among the shelves, trying to gather up the muster to fling himself into his destiny.
He knew what needed to be done; he had read the book cover to cover and back again. He just needed to be sure he was up to the challenge that fate had prescribed for him.
He stood under a vent and felt the cool rush of air weave through his hair. He knew that it was now or never to take the challenge the book had laid out for him head on.
“I’m off to save the world!” he announced to the customers who filed the store. “I’m off to fulfill my destiny!”
As he exited into the warm California air a middle-aged man who had been standing in the horror section turned to his wife and said, “Why is James Brolin yelling at us?”
*****
Michael Ryan was a gadfly that buzzed around DANZ & C>500TP’s head; his voice was starting to grate her nerves. “Why did I decide to keep you around?” she said as they traipsed up the steps of the Hall of Gods.
“No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to remember.” She opened the towering oak doors of the Hall and stepped inside. “Try and keep your mouth shut; you’re not supposed to be in here.”
“I wasn’t supposed to be the Hall of Death either but you brought me along with you there.”
“And see how great that turned out?” She turned to him with what he thought he saw was concerned benevolence. “Just remember these are gods who aren’t exactly on the best of terms with humanity any longer.”
“Why not?” Angry gods didn’t sound like something he wanted to encounter.
“Because they’ve been replaced. They’re used gods.” Her heels clicked on the marble floor. Vibrant mosaics stretched the hallway, glimmering in turquoise and gold. The walls were decorated with frescos of Michelangelo and Da Vinci that echoed with scenes of long-lost conquerors and heroes.
She stopped at a plain black door and paused. “This is it; and remember--”
“Be quiet,” sighed Michael had learned to anticipate her barks, “no one wants to hear what I have to say.”
The door opened to reveal a massive room. In the center lay a huge concrete lake adorned with large statues of cherubic children spouting water from their mouths into the pool. Along the shore lay fifty to sixty of the most beautiful people Michael Ryan had ever seen.
They were dressed in silk tunics lined with silver sashes. They were tanned and playful as they splashed and giggled like school girls at a junior prom. Above them a glass dome, through which radiant light spilled into the arboretum, covering everything with a celestial yellow glow.
Michael followed close behind DANZ & C>500TP, endeavoring not to trip as he watched the room unfold into a fresco of beautiful nudes Bronzing themselves on a cement beach.
Through the sweet sounds of birds he heard DANZ & C>500TP talk, but didn’t pay attention to what she was saying. He was trying to soak up what in his mind was heaven. He marveled as he watched mermaids skim the crystal blue waters while centaurs kicked their hooves into the cool pond. “Are you paying attention?” he was jolted out of his wonderment by these words and by the hand that crossed over his face. It was a cold, hard slap that knocked a filling out and down his throat.
“Um.--” he said, slack jawed, as he tried to gather his wits about him.
“I told you he wasn’t worth the trouble.” DANZ & C>500TP turned her interest away from him and back to the beautiful young woman she had been talking to. “Michael, this is Aphrodite; she’s going to help us.”
He hadn’t fully noticed the woman until he was introduced. His jaw dropped as if it were tied to a ten pound weight. This goddess was the most stunning vision he had ever seen [And he had had a lifetime subscription to Big Black Booty Mamas]. She had an aura that washed over her skin like someone was perpetually lighting her with a soft back-glow.
Aphrodite was a killer of men; she possessed the power to manipulate the male persuasion with beauty to die or kill for her own desires. “I can’t believe you’re a used god.” No sooner had he spoken those words than another cold hard palm graced his already reddened cheeks.
“What did I tell you about talking?” snapped DANZ & C>500TP.
He saw that the young woman was now sobbing at his attempt to be debonair. As the tears washed the pale of her face to red he felt like the man DANZ & C>500TP had told him he was. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He reached out to touch her shoulder but drew his hand back apprehensively.
Gods and Goddesses who are no longer needed are banished to the Hall of Gods. This wouldn’t seem like such a bad place by those who had the fortunate to glimpse into the Hall and saw what it entailed. The highest tier of Heaven, to which only the truly paramount of humanity retire looks like a dump compared to the Hall.
Gods are accustomed to comfort, which they had in abundance here, but they were also used to being the subject of devotion. When devotion ends and humanity turns its head to the next higher power the displaced gods are left to history lessons taught in uncomfortable classrooms by tired-looking men in sweater vests.
After they have been forgotten they are sealed into a place where spirituality will not penetrate. The Hall of Gods is where Used Gods are put out to pasture. Used Gods are those gods who have no followers and are now regulated to living their lives in a blissful ecstasy. A place of unwavering gratification is the modus operandi. And to them it sucks.
“It’s all right,” chortled Aphrodite drying off her tears, “Used Gods? I like being compared to a discarded tissue.”
“I told you to keep your pie hole shut.” DANZ & C>500TP hands balled into a fist as she glowered at Michael.”
“It’s a lovely place you have here,” he said trying to back-peddle his way out of his last statement.
“What about pie hole and keeping it shut don’t you understand?”
“I just wanted to make things better.”
“Why don’t you go annoy a Cycl
ops?” DANZ & C>500TP waved him away. As he slunk off he glanced back to see the two women sharing a good laugh at his expense.
“I don’t know why you guys wanted them to worship you in the first place? I’d have gone with toads over humans any day.” DANZ & C>500TP said with a glare to the departing Michael.
Michael wandered over to the foot of the pool and sat down. He stared at his reflection and noticed something new about himself. He was better looking now than he’d ever been on terra firma. He looked to be in his twenties, his chin was a chiseled square and his eyes cut through the water like a skeeter.
He had spent his living years as a worn down fat man from the time of his birth, but now he was positively masculine, if he did say so himself. He wondered if it was all a mirage brought on by the Hall of Gods and the Eden into which they had entered. He made a note to himself to check the closest mirror when they left.
Aphrodite led DANZ & C>500TP into another part of the room, away from Michael’s eyesight. He didn’t mind too much about being left alone to his own devices; besides, he was now positively godly-looking amongst a roomful of the real thing. He could probably get lucky looking the way he did. If only his high school chemistry teacher, who told him he’d never get laid, could see him now.
*****
The sky was still and hushed over the mountains of Kilimanjaro; the snows had subsided and the smell of newly bloomed poppies filled the air. A condor swooped down, landed on a solitary tree and stretched its wings out to the heavens.
The bird pecked at the dead tree until a hole appeared at its base. Carefully, it pulled out a small scrap of papyrus paper from within the dead tree. He nestled the scrap gently between his talons and flew off into the setting sun.
*****
Ketty had pulled herself from her waking coma of the youthful fantasies of Christmas enough to join the group. She entered to find a room full of men stuffing their faces with takeout Chinese. The fumes of lo mein wafted through the room as tiny white boxes were passed around the room.
Chopsticks whittled away at noodles that slurped and slithered around zealous mouths. She shrugged, took a place on the sofa next to Jeremiah and picked up a carton of egg foo yung. “So, what have we decided?”
“We needed to eat. We couldn’t well be expected to save the human race on empty stomachs, could we?” Jeremiah’s lips dripped with sauce as he spoke. A napkin disintegrated in his hands as he wiped his mouth, leaving particles of grainy tissue glued to his lips.
Aggravation encircled the foundation of everything that had been holding Ketty together for the last few days. She bolted from her seat and threw down the chopsticks. As they bounced off the table in front of her, rattling as inertia brought them to a standstill, she looked around the room.
Faces of men whom she had never wanted meet stared at her with thoughtful reflection. These were not circumstances in which she wanted to be, but here she was. Five days ago she was happy going about her life, struggling to make ends meet while doing what she loved to do.
Now she was knee-deep in crap she didn’t understand, not that she was ever given the chance to grasp what she was doing. She had taken Barnaby’s word on everything and she was fed up.
She marched toward the door, stopped and pivoted. “I can’t do this anymore. I cannot be a party to this lunacy. You asked me to help you and I did, to the best of my abilities.
‘I have spent night and day following you on some cockamamie quest to save the world from the antichrist. This is ridiculous. I don’t even know if what you’d told me is true. All I had to go on was my belief; my belief that you were leading me towards something true, something real.
‘But as far as I can tell none of you know what the hell you’re doing at any given period of the day. You sit around eating Chinese food while the world goes to pot and all you can say is that you can’t save the human race on an empty stomach. Well, that’s bull. I’m a member of the human race and I want me and my kind to be around for a lot longer than it takes to read a fortune cookie. I will do this on my own if I need to. I will save the world. Mark my words.”
She stormed out, leaving a cloud of carpet tufts in her wake. The door slammed behind her, the tapping of shoes grew fainter as she walked down the hall. The men sat silently pondering what she had told them. After a few moments they all came to the same conclusion concerning their role in saving humanity.
“Women,” said Barnaby reaching for an egg roll.
“Women,” seconded Jeremiah as he wiped chicken grease from his fingers.
“Women,” nodded St. Nick.
*****
Ducat had run his horse into submission; it lay sleeping on the warm sand dreaming of the peaceful respite of glue factories. As he sat beside it in the sand the Horsemen strolled up beside him. He held a handful of sand and watched the grains trickle through his fingers. As the grains hit the sand he looked up at the four and frowned.
“I’ve let you down.” He buried his hands in his head and started to weep. He knew what was to be the likely outcome of his failure and he wanted to feel his head attached to his body one last time. He sat praying that it would be a quick and painless death, but knowing what little he did know about War, he was certain of the exact opposite.
“It’s all right,” said War. “You’re only human.”
Ducat looked up at the man who spared his life and through tearful eyes began to laugh. “It’s true you know. I am only human.”
“Besides,” said Famine, “we’re almost there.”
He looked up and now that the sun was set through the darkness he could see the fires burning in his home. It was only a few miles further; he had done it, he had brought them across the wilderness and back home.
“Get on,” Famine motioned to him to climb aboard Princess Lollipop. “We’ll ride the rest of the way.”
“If it’s all the same to you I’ll walk. I’ll meet up with you later.”
The Death glanced at his fellow Horsemen and they silently agreed. “No, we’ll all walk. We’re not in a rush in any event.”
*****
Juliet rapped at the front door of Dana Plough’s palatial estate. She waited for an answer as Henry lay collapsed on the lawn. The sprinklers had come on and he was giving off the impression of a wet suicidal seal. No one came to the door, but she could hear laughter and music coming from the back.
It was unlike Dana Plough to throw a party; she wasn’t the bar-b-que on the 4th of July type, and Juliet had never heard her laugh. She had heard her boss fake merriment and exhilaration on numerous occasions but real laughter was something Dana Plough kept bottled up deep inside.
She made her way around to back of the house to find thirteen rather large men in numbered shirts having a grand time. These were definitely not the type of people Dana Plough mixed with. She thought that there must be something wrong, but the men seemed to be comfortable.
Usually when someone sees a gaggle of men whooping it up at a friend’s house, the mind goes to those people having a grand time at a party. In Dana Plough’s case, if a gaggle of men had broken into her place there wouldn’t be this much jollity; it wasn’t what one would call a happy house.
The house had an ill will about it. It wasn’t a particularly ominous or spooky looking house, but facades can be deceiving. Juliet had been to the house on numerous occasions and no sooner had she arrived than she wanted to get the heck out of it. Dana Plough kept a cold and detached home.
It was sterile in its interior design, more suitable for a museum than a place to kick off ones shoes and rewind after a hard day at the office. It was also too clean; Juliet had always been ill at ease with the lack of anything dusty. The house was not a home but the strangers in the backyard made it one.
They had set up a volley ball net and a grill that been pristinely silver for many years was blackened by the charred remains of hamburgers and sausages. There was also laughter, a lot of laughter.
Juliet wondered if the house had ever
heard such noises coming from its bowels. The men had made more out of the hygienic and infertile environment by their sheer joy of being than Dana Plough had done with her polished candlesticks and Jackson Pollack paintings.
She crept up on two of them, who were busy playing Candy Land on one of Dana Plough’s prized 17th century patio tables, and cleared her throat. As if by a hive mindset all thirteen dropped what they were doing and rushed to line up straight. Their faces were frozen in fear as they were caught doing what they were not supposed to- having fun.
“It’s all right; I’m not going to yell.” Juliet tiptoed closer to the troupe to get a better look at their faces ripe with unadulterated terror.
“Go ahead, everyone else does,” said Number Nine, kicking a rock with his toe in apprehension.
“No I don’t want to yell at you, I kind of like what you’re doing. It’s new and refreshing to see this house with some life in it.” There was something ironic about this statement Juliet thought to herself.
The others swapped looks, equal parts confusion and joy between them. Number Five stepped forward to confront Juliet. “Is this some sort of test? Because if it is, it’s not funny.” He looked down at her, his eyes showing enough fear in them to make her feel safe about her stance.
“I’m serious.” She took a step back from the hulking giant and smiled. The others began to follow in her example and soon everyone was grinning from ear to ear. This was the kind of house Juliet wanted in this neighborhood, one that rang out with joy and laughter for the world to hear. “Wait, where’s Ms. Plough?”
“She went to lunch.”
Juliet looked at her watch and noticed it was quarter past seven. Dana Plough did things like clockwork and lunchtime was from twelve to twelve twenty seven every day. “Well, she should be back soon then; we should probably start cleaning up before she sees the mess.”
“It’s okay. Her lunch always take between nine and eleven hours, now that we moved into the house.”
“Well then,” Juliet picked up the volleyball that lay at her feet and spun it on her finger, much to the awe and delight of the Insurance Agents. “Let’s get this party started.” Everyone scattered to continue what they had been doing. Juliet stopped and pulled at the sleeve on Number Two. “Could you walk around to the front of the house for me?”
