The Devil Still Has My Lawnmower & Other Tales of the Weird
Page 14
* * *
Alan pulled the last bit of crab grass from the yard, surveying his work. There wasn't a weed in sight. Not even a dandelion. He dared the Homeowner's Association to find something wrong with the yard.
Lou emptied the grass-catcher into the garbage can. “It sure feels nice to get something done with my own two hands,” he said.
“What we obtain too cheap,” said Alan, “We esteem too lightly.”
“Thomas Paine,” said Lou. “He's a good man. A bit racist, but he's just as smart as everyone thinks he is.”
“Named my son after him,” said Alan. “Maybe that's why he's such a smart-ass.”
Lou laughed. “Well, if it's any consolation, the real Thomas Paine isn't the most humble human being in Hell either.”
“He's not in Heaven?” asked Alan.
Lou grabbed the garbage can and shook it. The grass clippings settled at the bottom of it. “Getting into heaven is a tough gig, Alan. Hate to break it to you.”
“Why is that?”
“The rules are... well, a little outdated,” said Lou. “Not everybody's a saint. But everyone's a sinner. Someone gets into heaven maybe one a millennium, but that’s it.”
“That hardly seems fair,” said Alan. “Have you talked to God about it?”
“Would if I could,” said Lou. “But He's not been around since before the Bible was written.”
“Why not?”
“Perhaps He's grown up, perhaps He’s moved on.” said Lou.
“You're saying God was a child when he created the world?”
“Not necessarily,” said Lou with a knowing grin, “But I like to think that our world is just sitting at the bottom of the Lord's toy box.”
Alan wiped off his dirty hands on his trousers. “So since nearly everyone goes to hell, everyone gets punished?”
“Only the bad ones,” said Lou. “We still have to follow all of God's commandments. We weren't given free will like you lucky humans. Though, as you can see, some of read between the lines.”
“Sorry about that,” said Alan.
“No need to apologize,” said Lou. “It says in the Bible that Hell is a place of fire. It's a bottomless pit. There is the gnashing of men's teeth. There is weeping and misery and sorrow.”
“Hmm,” said Alan.
“But,” continued Lou, “There is also swimming and ping pong. There is chess and Subbuteo and shuffleboard and skydiving. There is a lending library with every book in the world, and the tallest rock climbing wall you've ever seen.”
“So even the damned get to play ping-pong from time to time?” said Alan with a chuckle.
Lou looked deeply and seriously into Alan's eyes.
Alan felt the ages crash into his mind. Staring into Lou’s eyes, Alan felt, just for a moment, like the pitiful mortal he was: a worthless smear of protein staring into the eyes of this powerful, ancient deity. He felt insignificant. He felt helpless.
And then his mind started correcting all these revelations and assured him that he was an important and productive member of American society, and that he mattered more than he knew to a great number of people.
Lou eventually spoke. “Eternity is a long time, Al,” he said sadly. “Not everyone who goes to Hell deserves to suffer for that long.” He looked down and inspected his hedges. “There are kids down there, you know.”
Alan felt a tinge of discomfort and embarrassment. “Well, I can rest easy knowing that at least God says you can play ping pong in Hell.”
“Not exactly,” said Lou. He smiled warmly, cheerfully, and earnestly. “He just didn't say I couldn't.”
Lou and Alan laughed. Then they both looked at Alan's lawnmower.
“So once I get this back,” said Alan, “What's to stop you from starting the Apocalypse?”
“The window has closed now,” said Lou. “The Apocalypse can only be fought when every member of each army has completed all their obligations, and there is nothing left for them to do but fight the battle at the end of the world. You and your lawnmower prevented that this time. And while we were doing yard work, the Denizens of Hell started borrowing and trading and doing favors. It won't be another thousand years or so until all of us have got no obligations left.”
“What happens then?” asked Alan. “Are you going to borrow a shovel?”
“It's not my turn,” said Lou. “It'll be up to Gabriel.”
“What do you think he'll do?” asked Alan.
“Hopefully,” said Lou, “There will still be Homeowner's Associations. And they will still be bastards.”
* * *
Alan wiped his feet on the welcome mat. He opened the door, went inside, and washed his hands.
“How's Lou?” asked Betsey, who was cooking a stew.
“Not too bad,” said Alan. “I'm glad he didn't have too much pride to let me help with his lawn.”
“Is he going to be fined?”
“We managed to avoid the end of the world,” said Alan.
“As long as we got our mower back,” said Betsey.
“Of course, dear,” said Alan, pecking his wife on the cheek.
Alan wandered into the living room, and collapsed into his favorite chair. He heaved a sigh of relief. He was exhausted.
“I wanted to help,” said Thomas. He was lying on the couch with his Game Boy. “But Mom said you didn't want me to bother you.”
“Oh?” said Alan.
“Yes... I wanted to make up for being a...” Thomas swallowed. “For being mean to you earlier.”
“Oh, it's all right,” said Alan. “Lou and I were just catching up. We had a little guy time while doing the yard.”
“I still think he's boring,” said Thomas. “I mean, it’s not bad or anything. He just seems so dang normal.”
“Oh, he's actually quite interesting,” said Alan with a chuckle, “Once you get to know him.”
-End-
About the Author
Giando Sigurani likes to write things. He has a website/blog he frequently neglects located at https://www.giandosigurani.com. He lives Oregon.
Also by Giando Sigurani
Mister Mercury: A Modern Greek Myth
The Greek god Hermes has spent thousands of years in a mountain prison for disobeying Zeus. Emerging in a new world where the gods have been nearly forgotten by humankind, he hatches a plan straight from the comic books to revive the glory days of Olympus. As Mister Mercury, caped hero, he'll fight to put the Fear of the Gods back into the hearts of mortals everywhere— whether they realize it or not.
Available in print or as an ebook at https://mistermercurybook.com