God and The Devil Get Drunk

God and the Devil Get Drunk

Copyright 2013 by
Bill Rayburn

The setting: 4am. McSorley’s Old Ale House, a historic Irish pub in the east Village, New York City. Bartenders and porters have finished cleaning up and have gone home.

One lone spotlight shines down on the antique cash register. It casts a dim glow out from the register to about six feet, just covering the bar.

Above the huge mirror that stares back at the patrons, in front of which rises a battalion of bottles which are reflected in it, is a sign with one of McSorley’s mottos carved into a wooden plaque:

“Be Good or Be Gone”

We might as well begin there.

************************

GOD: Points to carved sign above mirror, “Why aren’t you gone?”

DEVIL: “Very funny. So God can be sarcastic?”

GOD: “I can be anything I want to be. I can even be evil. I choose not to be.”

DEVIL: “Hardly your first poor choice. I was born this way. I’m not a product of my environment, I’m, what do the fags call it? Oh yeah, genetic. I am pre-disposed to being evil.”

GOD: “They prefer the term ‘gay’, I believe.”

DEVIL: Laughing hysterically. Finally gathers himself. “You’re defending gays? Your church, your people? They excoriate fags.”

GOD: “My message is one of love, an all-inclusive love. I cannot control when that is reversed and my love is re-interpreted as exclusionary.”

DEVIL: “And that is one of the hot topics I want to talk to you about. What you can and can’t control.”

GOD: “I think we should have a drink. Maybe many drinks.”

DEVIL: “Of course. But I ain’t waiting on you. Who’s gonna tend bar?”

GOD: “No trouble. What’s your, ah, poison?”

DEVIL: “Cute. Very clever. Gin martini, very dry, two olives. Make it Tanqueray. Please.”

GOD: Instantly a gorgeous looking martini appears before the Devil. At the same time, a bottle of Zinfandel from Sonoma Valley, California, with a crystal goblet at its side, is on the bar in front of God.

GOD: “Gin almost brought down the entire British Empire, you know. I’m just sayin’.”

DEVIL: “Wine is for pussies. Have a man’s drink.”

GOD: “My poor man. Your level of sophistication is, to my surprise, even lower than I anticipated. I’ve created non-homosapiens that are less troglodytic than you.”

DEVIL: Takes huge sip of martini. “Whatever. So, control. It’s probably the single biggest issue in life, and in death. Are you limited?”

GOD: “Are you?”

DEVIL: Grinning, “Only by imagination, which is to say, ‘no’.”

GOD: “With the introduction of nuanced thought here, I may lose you. Try to follow me. I choose to limit my sphere of control. One does not teach by doing, one teaches by showing, guiding, instructing and, yes, by allowing failure to occur. It is from failure that man’s greatest triumphs arise.”

DEVIL: Notices that the clock has not moved from its 4am position. “Hey, the clock’s stopped.”

GOD: “I have halted time for now. I want to make sure we get all the time together that we need.”

DEVIL: “You can stop time?”

GOD: Nods. “Among other things. How’s your ticker feeling these days?”

DEVIL: Panicked, puts right palm over heart. “Fine, why?” His voice is getting shrill. “What have you done?”

GOD: Laughing and pouring himself a glass of wine. “Nothing that will impact you today. Tomorrow may be another story, however.”

DEVIL: “I can make your life very miserable. I can arrange to have your garbage delivered instead of taken away.”

GOD: “I don’t generate garbage. But we digress. How’s your drink?”
Winks at the Devil.

DEVIL: “Why? What’d you put in it?”

GOD: “Gin, vermouth, two olives.” He turned his head and mumbled something just out of earshot of the Devil.

DEVIL: “What was that last one?”

GOD: “Arsenic.”

DEVIL: Relaxes. He knows it would have already killed him by now. “Nice try. When did you shave the beard and cut your hair?”

GOD: Glances in huge mirror behind the bar. Staring back at him is a twin of the actor George Clooney. The Devil apparently has not heard of the actor. So much for the “all knowing” bullshit he’d heard about his short little friend in the skintight red body suit. “I wanted to look my best for when we finally met.”

DEVIL: “I knew you were vain. What with the flowing robes and the Barry Gibb get up. It’s one of your weaknesses.”

GOD: “You keep straying from the ‘control’ issue, which you yourself invoked. I’ve told you my approach, which is rooted in reticence. People are forced to rely on their faith because I choose to not control everything, and I do not stop bad, horrific occurrences on earth. In essence, I give you free rein, because I believe your abilities to be quite limited in the damage that you can sow.”

DEVIL: “That tsunami thing was pretty fucking impressive though, wasn’t it?”

GOD: “That was you?”

DEVIL: “One and the same.”

GOD: “Why?”

DEVIL: “Lots of reasons. I hate Hindus. I can’t stand all religious people, actually. All that shit eventually leads back to you, in spite of all these other ‘Christ-like’ figures such as Allah.”

GOD: “Why do you hate all religious people? Most of them are of good stock.”

DEVIL: “One word: hypocrisy.” He sat back smugly and gestured with his empty glass to God. Another drink appeared instantly.

GOD: Sighing. “I may have to give you that one.”

DEVIL: “Why is that, do you think?”

GOD: “Maybe I set standards too high for people, so they inevitably fall short, feel guilty about it, and once they get tired of that vicious cycle, they go into denial which breeds hypocrisy. When their behavior can’t live up to the rhetoric.”

DEVIL: “And all those fuckers seem to want to follow you. What a fucking crack-up.”

GOD: “I’m no prude, D-Man, but let’s keep the ‘fucks’ to a low roar, shall we? They lose their power and impact when thrown about cavalierly. Throw them around like the tips you never leave, like man-hole covers. Pick your spots.”

DEVIL: Grins lasciviously, “Fuckin-A. You’ve noticed I don’t tip, huh? Didn’t think you saw that.”

GOD: “I see everything.”

DEVIL: “Yeah, whatever.” Sips drink and nods to himself. “You make a mean Martini, JC. I can taste some top shelf vermouth in here.”

GOD: Nods in acknowledgment. “I’ve no interest in combating with you on trivial matters. It’s the big issues that brought me here.”

DEVIL: “Like control?”

GOD: “Control is at the root of much and the good and evil that man perpetrates.”

DEVIL: “Did you create man?”

GOD: Sighs heavily. Pours himself another glass of wine and sips it thoughtfully. He reaches over and drags a cup of cashews over between them, scoops out a fistful and lays them on the bar in front of him.

“Maybe.”

DEVIL: Ear to ear smile. “Thought you’d duck that motherfu….ah, that one. So you could control all the goings-on on earth, but you choose not to. And this is supposed to create a more enlightened, ah, flock? Really? How’s that workin’ fer ya?”

GOD: Shakes head. “Mixed results thus far. But it’s only been a short period. 1980 years to be exact. A mere blip on the radar screen of life.”

DEVIL: “You’d call the atrocities that occur on that planet every day ‘mixed results’? What was the 100 Year War, a hiccup?”

GOD: “First of all, red boy,” and for the first time, God had an edge in his voice when addressing the Devil. “We are on that planet right now, or have you forgotten about New York City? And for every atrocity, as you label it, there are hundreds of acts of goodness and kindness that go unreported, as it were. Just because the bullsh…the acts of atrocities that you cause lead the nightly news and get the attention of O’Reilly and his ilk, does not negate the goodness of the world. Never forget that, Tsunami-boy. Man was given the gift of resiliency by ME!” He was roaring now, his third glass of wine inside him. “You may inflict wound after wound, but wounds heal. And some day, the stone will be rolled back ONCE AGAIN, and out will come your vanquisher.”

DEVIL: “Yeah, Don Knotts in a loin cloth with a dull scythe and Marlboro in his left hand. He might vanquish a wheelchair bound cat.”

GOD: “I believe your ultimate Foil will be quite a bit more formidable than Mr. Knotts. As an aside, Don is a resident of mine and he is quite the Judo expert. Who knew, huh?”

DEVIL: “Belief. Isn’t that one of the big ones between us tonight?”

GOD: “You mean this morning, since it remains 4am.” They both looked at the clock. The Devil was clearly impressed. “People believe in me. You are the ‘red-headed step-child’ of the belief system. You are grudgingly acknowledged, often ignored, regularly reviled and never adored. You are the aged grandfather with the lowered fly who is subtly steered into the garage when company arrives.”

DEVIL: “Nice imagery. You should be a writer instead a failed savior. I could get you into the publishing industry. I got lots of friends there.”

GOD: “Indeed. My bible can’t find its way onto shelves anymore.”

DEVIL: “So YOU wrote that shit?”

GOD: “I prefer the term ‘inspired’.”

DEVIL: “I bet you do. Give me a ballpark, here, Oh Mediocre One. To what extent have you been successful with your believers?”

GOD: Ignores obvious jibe. “Again. Mixed results. I will probably always have mixed results.”

DEVIL: “Man, you are one lucky sonuvabitch. ‘Mixed results’ get most people fired from their job. How do you keep yours? In fact, what exactly is your fuckin’ job?”

GOD: Quietly makes another bottle of wine appear on the bar. Looks to the right and makes a third martini materialize in front of the Devil, who flinches and then grins. He licks his lips and for the first time, God notices his tongue is indeed forked. Who knew?

“My ‘mixed results’ still make your acts of hatred pale by comparison. Good, which is one removed “o” from God, always trumps evil, which is one added “d” from Devil.”

DEVIL: “Well, word-wizard, God is merely Dog misspelled, and Devil is ‘Lived’ backwards. You like apples, JC? How you like ‘dem apples?”

GOD: “Eve tempted Adam with the apple. I like apples. I like my track record.”

DEVIL: “Okay, Yahweh. Your track record, for what it’s worth, which is the spittle of a warthog, is littered with failure. With people and believers who are simply terrible examples of what you purport man to be. I, on the other hand, have zero failures. When I want to fuck things up, I do it. I have never, not once, attempted an atrocity, for lack of a better word, and not had it occur. From the smallest of my dalliances, like still-born babies, to the larger scale destruction of tsunamis and earthquakes. Do you like how I, more often than not, rattle the earth where they have the least amount of resources to deal with such an “Act of God”. And damn, do I love that phrase. They often blame MY shit on YOU. Whenever I read that phrase in a description of something heinous that has happened, I think, and you’ll find this ironic, ‘That’s priceless. Maybe there is a God’. Oh, I sometimes rattle San Fran with an 8.0 to remind them that fags are evil.”

GOD: “The ‘spittle of a warthog’? That is truly inspiring only for its horrific imagery. I could not give a whit what journalists label a catastrophe. It is universally thought that an act of God is a good thing. I don’t cause ANY weather acts. The atmosphere, though if I chose to play it like a fiddle I could, I’ve left alone to wreak its own havoc. People will adapt. Resiliency is the theme, as I’ve mentioned earlier, you rube.”

DEVIL: “Name calling? From the Deity?

GOD: “Schoolyards are an extension of my influence.”

DEVIL: “Did you just provide me with yet another example of hypocrisy?”

GOD: “Let’s move on. Why do you sow tragedy and pain and atrocities on humans?”

DEVIL: Sips his drink. “You don’t know the answer to that?”

GOD: “I know the answer to everything. Put it in your own words; try to justify anything that you do.”

DEVIL: “I don’t get bogged down in that justification shit. That’s your yoke you put on people. I act on my sensations. In fact, I ooze from one sensation to the next. Feelings never block my line of intent. In fact, feelings are what separate me from you and your ‘believers’. I appeal to the lowest common denominator and work from there. I can also corrupt the upper crust. Nixon was my doing.”

GOD: “Evil is what separates you from all of humanity. Don’t delude yourself otherwise. No rose colored glasses will be worn in this bar tonight. Wait. You were behind Nixon?”

DEVIL: “Thought it was morning, Big Ben. And yes, Nixon was practically a colleague. Very little conversion necessary.”

GOD: “My point was crystal clear, even to you.”

DEVIL: Sensing a dead end, he shifts gears. “Believers. Even you have to think they are a disappointment. Don’t you?”

GOD:” “No. They strive, and as long as they continue to strive, I’m in. I will do my best to assist. The ones that give up? They are victims of the cosmos and will have their chips fall where they may.”

DEVIL: “You success ratio sucks, by my count.”

GOD: “Yes, it does. But I can sleep at night. Can you?

DEVIL: “I never sleep. Evil lurks everywhere. I am evil.”

GOD: “Ain’t that the fucking truth.”

DEVIL: “Now there is a prudent use of ‘fucking’.”

GOD: “Had to get the last word in, huh?”

DEVIL: “Nah. No ego here.”

GOD: “Since when?”

DEVIL: “Since I learned, one night at McSorley’s that God was not unlike me. Just the other side of the coin.”

GOD: Pours remaining half glass of Zinfandel into goblet. Drinks it in one swallow. Gets up from stool. Slaps the Devil on the back.

“Take care, compadre. We will continue to battle. But I get you a bit more now. And I think you will never become extinct, because you attach yourself, lamprey-like, to man’s psyche. And evil will never leave us. If that is your legacy, may you sleep fitfully the rest of your life, you motherfucker. I will have restful slumber every night.”

God left a tip.

The Devil pocketed it.

THE END