Thank you everyone for your support. Enjoy the 1st complete chapter of Comedic Divinity: Fateless and have a safe and happy Halloween.
Chapter 1: This guy right here
Never
the fastest or the strongest, Kayen always pictured himself as painfully
average. The only remarkable or memorable thing about him was his name. Of
course, no one could spell or pronounce his name properly. It always came out as Cain, Cheyenne,
Kane, Cayenne, but never
how it was intended to be conveyed. Kayen, which seemed fairly easy and
required only a phonetic reading of his name, yet it remained an enigmatic
puzzle that was cast aside due to its complexity in the minds of those he met.
When he handed forms in then he would undoubtedly be subjected to the
inevitable conversation, which had been repeated so often that it had become an
almost a reflexive formulaic dialog…
Person
A: “What a unique name, how do you pronounce that?”
Was a query, which would inevitably lead to an ever underwhelming response.
Kayen: “It’s, Kayen, or K-N just like the letters are saying their own name.”
This always led to a look that closely resembled the remark…
Person A: “Well, I guess it wasn’t as interesting and exotic as I thought.”
And
with that the conversation usually the faded away into unintelligent, non-cohesive
banter, until he would move on and ultimately be forgotten as easily as the
song playing in an elevator when you were an infant.
That
repetitive and painstakingly dull scenario had lead to everyone eventually
pronouncing and writing his name as K-N.
Grey eyes, undiscerning features, with a scrawny build and brown hair
disheveled, (disheveled not in the
‘Cool and Trendy’ manner, but more in the manner of a person who really had no
need to impress anyone… ever) had left him with a vague and easily
forgotten visage. Not unattractive, but then again he would have to be
perceived if he expected anyone to look at him in with any aesthetic criticism
or praise. He was not unhappy as much as he was complacent about his
inconsequential 16 years of life, but to say he was fulfilled was an erroneous
leap to the wrong side of the emotional spectrum. His feelings were more similar
to giving up on any form of recognition, be it good or bad in an apathetic and
ultimately morose way. The other statement would have been more closely related
to saying, that someone was in love, simply because no one hated them. This
lead to a series of revelations, that began to shaped his perspective on life going
forward.
First
and foremost was the decision that being
unknown was decidedly worse than being hated or feared. For instance; he wasn’t
hated by anyone, since that would require acknowledging he was alive, which
either no one knew or no one cared. This was much more depressing than if he
had been ridiculed or hazed. He simply wasn’t worth the expelled energy, to
even evaluate his existence. Girls didn’t giggle and point, jocks didn’t torture
him, teachers didn’t call on him, and even animals paid him as much attention
as a random blade of grass (which was to say either not at all, or just
something to lift a leg on as they marched past).
Next
was that the power of positive thinking
gets you nowhere if even the universe chooses to overlook your existence. Often
times the left K-N feeling that if he could only be revered or abhorred, but
instead he was saddled with an often nebulous and particularly peculiar
purgatorial presence. At least then someone would know he had mattered or
played some role in the world even if he was only an extra in the background.
The guy listed as un-credited in the movie credits was still way more important
than K-N and had at least a slim chance of someone recognizing him.
Thirdly,
was that when people have no emotional
connection to other people, then the disconnected might as well just give up on
trying to live life to the fullest, and just hang around until the can become
something productive. Most notably that useful product they would become
was worm food, disgusting but essential to the world as a whole so it still
resulted in a significant climbing of the universal relevance ladder.
The
fourth and final revelation in the Book of K-N as he liked to think of
his system, held significant meaning for him. Life Sucked, but it still might be better than the alternative, which
held a specifically dangerous uncertainty for K-N. Now don’t think this means
that an end to the bleak course of existence which was plotted out for him was
preferable in any way. In fact it wasn’t even an option that he liked to
consider. Karmic uncertainty of what might happen if a non-being such as him
were to pass from our reality was beyond frightening to him; in fact it was the
only thing that really caused him any intense emotional response. (The
response was usually one of fear, but at least it was a response).
He
had siblings and parents, each of them archetypical in some way as to give them
a sense of identity and purpose in the grand scale of things. His father was a
brilliant attorney and avid football player (being from England this meant soccer, but since they lived in
America, this meant track and field with a ball) who was home as
little as possible while work seemed to consume every spare second. His mother
was a real estate agent, who somehow was off always showing a house, yet K-N
could not remember if she ever sold one, or at least she’d never mentioned
selling one while he was around. Cimera, his oldest sister was the definitive
high school popular girl slash ditsy cheerleader (except she was actually very
smart, but hid it well while in school). Publicly she had the lofty goal of
attending the most prestigious beautician’s school or becoming a vapid celebutant,
while in private, she had truly wanted to become a theoretical physicist or
work at the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva, Switzerland at CERN. At Ten months
younger than himself, he was slightly put off by the fact that she somehow
still managed to have more going on in her life than he did. Beam, his older
brother (by one year and one day),
was the pinnacle of youthful, talented, attractive male-ness. His father’s
pride and joy; Beam had been placed on a pedestal and worshipped by all, but
especially the virgins (though not
for long) of the local high schools (yes plural). If he was any
more of a prototypical popular guy, he
would have to don a cape and sport fancy spandex underwear. This was the way K-N
saw his universe and defined his place in the family dynamic. Since each of his
family members contributed in some way to a
symbiotic whole organism of a perfectly synchronized hive mind; meant that someone
had to have been stuck with all of the mediocre anonymity riding on their
shoulders (Behold and stare in ambivalence at the completely unremarkable
and easily forgettable sight of Captain Indifference). He was not consulted
on the decision, but it was his burden to bear never the less.
To
further his beating by familial politics, as anyone with a good sized family and
siblings knows that when your parents look at you they sometimes forget your
name as they can only see what one has done and so names gets lost in a tempest
of rage filled reactions. So whenever someone is summoned they all stand there
fearful and patiently awaiting the words of power that will bring you into the
parental plane of reality. Like summoning evil from beyond the veil, but
instead of evil, they get a sheepishly scared kid, and instead of a veil the
parents have to rip it out of the clenched teeth of a crocodile while it
attempts dragging it off into the murky
depths in a violent death roll. When K-N was to be executed, his parents would
go down the list while looking right at him, “Cimera… I mean Beam, Troy… (K-N had to admit that this one came up
frequently and had everyone stumped indeed as to who this ‘Troy’ was)…
oh, you know who you are.” And then the nameless beast of burden fulfilled the
required task or accepted its punishment.
K-N
had become an ass… an unassuming ass that was dedicated to trudging through the
mucky fields that was his pitiful life. To make things worse he also wasn’t
really that interested in many things. He seemed to prefer reading without
human interaction, so he remained the nameless ass he had grown to accept. No, K-N
would likely work the fields until he was too old at which point he would lie
down and die… in the mud… waiting to be plowed under by another ass or be sold
to a glue factory or to a knacker as for cheap sausage (mental note: read more and see if there are there even knackers left?).
It
started with a letter; a simple eggshell colored letter about the size of a
note card with elegant writing on the front and no return address. The back was
adorned with a strange wax seal that looked like the letters ‘H’ and ‘C’
nestled next to one another. The letter was passed around the family in
disbelief for awhile until it was finally recovered by K-N. Addressed to K-N (yes the letters only) and contained no
postmark as if it had just been left in the mailbox rather than journey through
the regular channels.
It
read:
K-N,
I am quite interested to meet
you and would like the opportunity to discuss a very important business
proposition with you. You have a specific trait which I find myself in fierce
need of and I feel that I have something to offer you in exchange for your cooperation.
Perhaps you could do me the honor of gracing me with your presence for an
audience at my office tomorrow at 11:06am. Please understand that I am not
asking for anything from you that you would not freely give, but I am merely
interested in the slightest chance to discuss what I can offer you in exchange
for your symbiosis in regard to this undertaking.
Yours
truly,
Innee Dove Solz, Duke of Hell
Ph.D. of Non-Corporeal Solicitation
V.P. of Contracts, Asset Procurement and Negotiations
When: 11:06am this
Friday
Where: The alleyway behind 666th avenue and Unholy Way. You will
know which alley… trust me.
Note:
Please recycle when finished because we all have to live here together.
In
astonishment and some fantastic discomfort the words burned into his mind and
erased from the page while leaving the paper the not-quite white of bleached
bone. K-N blinked away tears as if his eyes had become very dry and caused
black orbs as if he had glanced at the sun. There was a sense of wrongness that
had never been explored throughout his life, and although terrifying it created
a sense of being alive in ways that were unexpected and new. This was all cut
short by his chattering sister’s attempts at creating more screen time in the
present scene. K-N often thought that if Cimera were to ever play the female
lead in Romeo and Juliet that she would be unable to be silent throughout the
tragic death scene.
“Hey Dad, what’s his name got a letter!” Cimera called
across the room to the strange hybrid of smart phone and man which his father
had become.
She
was standing behind him and all she saw was the clean sheet of cardstock. He
assumed she was thinking that he mailed the letter to himself just to feel important.
This had been tried in the past, but the letter seemed to always be lost in the
mail. Everyone knew that K-N was never deserving of the necessary
thoughtfulness behind someone writing and sending a letter. In fact he may have
been the only person on the planet who never even got spam on his hotmail
account. That failed event was even after he took an entire day filling out
every free pop up that appeared on his computer. Actually, K-N mused to
himself, he never even got an automated response back.
“Hey Sport” his father called out while staring at
his smart phone. “What ya got there?” He was obviously uninterested and never
used his son’s name, just sport, tiger, kiddo, or any other impersonal
colloquialism that would pass as a form of familiar address. All it really did
was imprint a deep lack of identity on K-N and fulfill his father’s daily
conversational requirements. Whoever wrote that contract also never consulted
him on his opinion in the matter because if they did he would only tolerate
three possible names. Kayen, Son or Troy.
Once again, Troy seemed like a pretty popular guy to him, so how bad could
being him really be?
K-N began to open his mouth when the Cimera’s voice
cut through the room. “Why would someone send you a letter? I mean why would it
be for you and not Beam?” Her shrill mocking voice was followed up by Mom, with
her comments.
“Yeah,
it’s probably for Beam and someone just misaddressed it. You should really not
open mail that is not yours. Just because something comes in the mail addressed
to you doesn’t mean you should just open it up without checking with your Beam
first.” She added from the kitchen.
“Now let’s not jump to conclusions, Cimera, my
dearest are you sure it was addressed to him and not Beam? Beam is definitely the
one that most post should go to, but if it came addressed to ‘Current
Resident’, by all means he should be allowed to open it.” His Father loved to
make fun of the fact that until he was around five years old, he was actually
pretty well adjusted and content with the world, mostly due to the fact that he
regularly got mail. This utopian existence was ruthlessly cut short when his
loving older brother explained to him rather harshly that, Current Resident
is not really the Lithuanian spelling of Kayen, as he had previously been
informed by his ever loving father. This was pretty earth shattering at the
time, since this was his only real social interaction with people outside of
his immediate family.
“You know, when I was Beam’s age I was always invited
to the coolest parties. I would get invited by everyone and sometimes I even
had to go to two or three in the same day. Beam is a lot like me.” And then he
trailed off wistfully into another unending rendition of adoration for his
magnanimous child. The one he was once quoted as saying that his son was
actually ‘forged in the hottest fires
of the fiercest crucible to stand in the face of all threats and hold fast’.
Not an exaggeration this was a description he once used to characterize his
beloved Beam the Radiant, although K-N had to admit it sounded much cooler with
a British accent. Worst of all, at the time this was being related to the very
unfortunate nurse during his father’s biyearly examination of a long standing
case of diverticulitis. It’s no wonder why there isn’t a book on Colonoscopy
Communication for Dummies. Nothing
says tell me more about your son, than a nurse with a scope in your rectum does.
K-N
pivoted and realized everyone was busy sharing their, “isn’t Beam amazing”
stories, so he figured this was a good time to slink out of the room. He made his
way up the stairs to his room, which was, in actuality just a crawl space in
the attic, which his parents converted to a living space. It was added as an afterthought
when deciding where to house this inconsiderate surplus child born and forced
down the throats of already complete Smith family unit. He set the letter on
his desk and began to come up with reasons that what he had read, before the
migraine from hell (No pun intended), was a symptom of his inevitable
downward spiral into the soft and comforting abyss of insanity. If it happened
to someone else he would assume that either he was becoming unstable and would
be on the news any day now as the key
perpetrator of a Branch Davidian style raid by government agents, while dressed
as Kermit the Frog and carrying a high powered assault rifle perched atop the
town’s water tower. The other alternative is that he was completely sane and
the person who sent the letter was the one who was nuts. Thinking back to the
passage about ‘a trait that was desired’ made the second option significantly
more likely. He was fairly sure that the crazy option was solid, since he was
unaware of a diagnosable malady that could cause someone to believe that K-N
Smith had any kind of perceived potential. It has begun K-N thought as
he realized he had just referred to himself in the third person. Yes, he had to
admit that the Kermit the frog, rifle, water tower thing was entirely more
plausible.
This Friday at 11:06 AM; what a bizarre time? Why
not choose 11:00 or even 11:15? Why on a Friday instead of a weekend? Shouldn’t
his blossoming psychosis be aware that he had school? It seemed as though even
his delusions were proposing an impossible social scenario for him to be, yet
again excluded. Well either way, today was Thursday the 12th and
Friday was a long night away from tomorrow. Since he no longer needed to
participate in today, he plopped down on his bed, waited for dinner and slowly drifted
off to sleep. No one ever called him down to eat.
When
K-N dreamed it was the only time he felt like he really was a part of something
more. In his dreams he was central, confident, and epic. As it was such a
strong contrast to his reality, he spent a great deal of time trying not to be
awake. He read a lot and was knowledgeable, but someone could be the smartest
person in the world and if no one listened to him then he might as well be the
dumbest. If someone were ever to consider his mood, the analysts may say that
he was depressed, but since no one really thought of him one way or the other,
he figured this was probably a moot point. He clawed his way from the tangle of
covers and stumbled to the shower. The water was a lukewarm that he had a close
personal relationship due in part to his tendency to always be the last to take
a shower. Just before ice formed on his extremities, which ironically seemed to
always be the case whenever he had the most soap remaining on his body, K-N
turned off the shower and dried his diminutive physique off with a grey hand
towel. For some reason he lived in a house with five people, but there was
always only four body towels washed and hanging when each day began. His mom
read somewhere, sometime, about something, which had a brief mention of a “Super
Mom”, whose children were all great successes and the one fact that she
retained and implemented was that her children used baking soda to brush their
teeth instead of regular toothpaste. This left a bland taste and an unpleasant
sensation in his mouth that made him wonder how this feeling would make him
rise up in the world. Throwing on a worn t-shirt that once had a phrase,
saying, or logo on the front and some faded blue jeans, K-N headed for the door
on his way to school. Outside was cloudy, yet it held no rain, instead it
presented a gloomy atmosphere with a moisture sucking aura which blanketed the
morning sky. He marched along once more purposefully, while once again carrying
out his mission objective of social ambiguity and thought about his play date
with the devil. Although it wasn’t really THE Devil… after all, THE Devil would not waste time with
someone of K-N’s insignificant caliber. It said he was only a Duke of hell,
probably twice removed and most likely the position was created due to a
marriage, or the never-ending sin of nepotism within the celestial bureaucracy.
Duke of Hell must be a title given to a sister’s daughter’s husband’s
brother so that he could avoid working for a living and just skate by in life
while comfortably sequestered in the lap of luxury. K-N needed to hurry or he
would be late to class, if that would even matter. He had been sick, late, went
home early, even showed up tardy on numerous occasions, yet he never received a
reprimand or attendance call to his parents. In fact, he was pretty sure that
the school never even listed him as an enrolled student, since he was never
asked at roll call. Every year he would typically have to remind his teachers
to make a report card for him, and every year they would crinkle their
foreheads trying to remember anything that he had contributed to the class and
when nothing came to mind they proceeded to give him the same grades every time.
It had resembled a queer epileptic pictogram that could be a representation of
any letter from A-F. His teachers were far worse than and doctor’s with regards
to how illegible their handwriting was. No matter how hard he worked, slacked
off, or if he even showed up at all K-N continued to receive this bizarre
glyph. A fire truck passed on its way to do something heroic, just as he
approached the stop light at the end of his street. The street was home to a
perpetually red stop light that never seemed to turn green unless you had
already become so incensed that you decided to run it.
Another
fire truck passed racing off towards adventure.
It was pointless to consider this obvious lapse in sanity. He was now
fairly certain that he had never received any letter and the corresponding
invite to a duke of hell’s office to broker some kind of mutually beneficial
arrangement was his brains’ way of signaling that the uneasy peace between
reality and his catastrophic rift in sanity were being smashed together
mercilessly. Either that, or his lunch yesterday was not settling any better on
day two and he was contracting a new form of terminal botulism with himself
becoming patient zero for a plague of psychosis and eventual death originated
from his school cafeteria (seems
perfectly plausible). In fact this would probably be the litmus test for
the all areas of psychology to determine the extent of insanity (The ‘what’s his name test’). At least he
might become a footnote in the annals of psychiatric medicine and it would be referred
to as That Guy Disease, or
Howdoyoupronouncethatitis or perhaps even the Spanish words for insignificant
entity (entidad insignificante did sound
more romantic
at
least). Now
he was going insane and realized he was looking forward to the recognition and
figured the reality was that he must just be having extremely vivid dreams. (Now
there was a police car blaring its siren as it whizzed by) K-N pinched the back of his arm
bringing tears to his eyes. Damn! Ouch! Nope. Realizing this is
something he should have done yesterday while having the dream, (oh look, another police car) and not now when he was obviously
coherent and aware of his environment. It was markedly a terribly idiotic idea.
Two more police cars screamed by as he rounded the last corner leading to his
high school. A massive crowd assembled outside on the lawn while emergency
crews ran in and out of the building wearing strange suits with face shields
and oversized oxygen tanks on their backs. Even the firemen were staying back.
Smoke billowed out of the eastern entrance conveniently referred to as the
Smokers’ Hall. To K-N it looked similar to pictures of the FEMA shelters set up
after hurricane Katrina in New Orleans.
Making his way to the front of the barrier the
emergency responders set up, he saw that the schools’ principal standing on the
side of a fire engine, with a bullhorn shouting to the students and faculty, as
well as anyone else who was being held at bay by the police barricades. K-N
wasn’t necessarily a fan of his, and he was sure that part of his apprehension
was from the principle looking very much like an African American version of Adolph
Hitler.
“Everybody listen up!” The screech of feedback filled
the morning air. Silence seemed to come slowly as spectators speculated in
hushed tones as they seem to do whenever ordered to silence. “There has been a
small incident in the Chemlab and we are currently awaiting the ‘all clear’
from the authorities. (‘It will be a new world, A German World!’ He actually
did come across exactly like a Black Hitler) “McGaffin’s grocery store
across the street is currently setting up tents and places for all of us to sit
at in order to wait out this minor annoyance. Anyone who feels too traumatized that
they are unable to attend school, due to concerns for their well being, will
have to report to their homeroom teacher to show that they were present and
then they are dismissed. (Heil Hadler! Even his name sounded dictator-ish.)”
Fully
expecting to see a platoon of grey clad SS officers goose-step past him on the
way to cause sadistic torture on the huddled masses, K-N made his way to his
homeroom teacher section of the makeshift shelters. Roll call was brief and he
had to remind Mrs. Mallory that he really is a student in her class and his
name was still K-N. After convincing her that he had a conversation about his
name almost every day for the last 5 months with her, she skeptically wrote his
name (of course she had to ask how it was spelled again, like she had never
done that before) at the end of the attendance sheet and marked him down as
present.
His
siblings were off doing popular things that popular siblings do and the other
students all made a break for it since it was basically a free skip day. K-N
picked himself up and headed towards the makeshift tents; where the socially
despised were congregating beneath a canopy in order to conduct make shift classes taught by teachers with nothing
better to do or nowhere else to go. Yet somehow even these societal delinquents
would be missed if they were to leave this world. Thoroughly depressed with the
state of his existence (or considerable lack thereof) he realized that this would not
gain recognition or any notoriety, positive or negative, as no one would know
he was in attendance anyway, he decided to walk into the store and get a snack.
Slamming face first into a glass door, he staggered
back. He slowly stepped forward again and once again the door refused to budge.
He sat back on a bench nearby cradling his face. A woman talking on her mobile
phone was heading for the entrance and not paying any attention.
“Uh…” That single syllable was all he could get out
as he tried to warn her of his personal cautionary tale's impact regarding her
impending fate. Then just like that, the wily door opened and she was admitted
to the magical land on the other side of the glass. K-N stood up and walked to
the door. Nothing. He tried everything. He waved, pushed, pulled, pried,
shouted, and even resorted to jumping up and down like a maniac attempting to
trigger a pressure sensor, but the malevolent door never budged. So once again
he sat down in defeat that was until he had a brainstorm. He waited for another
person to walk to the door and this time when it opened he rushed behind her
just as the doors nearly closed on his backpack. The successful execution was
almost overwhelming and he couldn’t believe that the universe allowed it to
work.
A pack of gum, a premade turkey sandwich on wheat
bread, and a diet soda were quickly selected. (At least food won’t judge my
worth like that damned door did)
Now that lunch was taken care of, he might as well take a walk
around town. Ms. Edelstein was at the counter as she had been for the last 60
years according to her pin on her fancy apron. She was definitely the soul of
grass roots community businesses. Things were more expensive there and usually
no nearly a large enough selection and forget trying to buy anything that
wasn’t a traditional condiment or spice, yet the town still kept it in business
by sacrificing to it monetarily. If Ms. Edelstein did finally pass then he was
sure the store would have to replace her with another elderly woman to keep the
vibe the same.
“Hello there, sweetie. How are you today?” She
greeted cheerfully. Her skin looked like rice paper and her form was slightly
bent, but she seemed like she was a young woman of nearly seventy instead of
the one hundred and fifty that K-N was sure she was actually much closer to.
“Been a crazy morning with the business at the school, huh? I hear it was them
terrorists (Cause everything was orchestrated by terrorists in these days).
Bomb or something? Right? You look about the age, is that your school?”
“Well… Yes it
is” K-N had an idiosyncrasy in which he always said something before waiting
one full second and then finished his train of thought (usually a very short train). This came off as if he was mentally
slow, but in actuality it came from years of assuming he was going to be
interrupted by someone more memorable anyway, so why waste a brilliant idea or
keen observation with someone those that were born deaf to it or worse yet,
people who were unable to remember what was told to him or her it in the first
place.
“Well that’s nice to hear. Good for you, dear. Nothing
is more important than a good education, well, except for working hard,
providing for your family and the good Lord. (What, no apple pie?) Your student card please, young man?” (She wasn’t
even listening to the words anymore or caring what the response may have been?)
He
handed over his student ID card, which was a staple at his school as part of a
pilot program very similar to commissary in prisons. A student was supposed to
have funds deposited into their account and then they could use these
play-money style credit cards at various stores in town. The program was
supposed to be a way to teach the students about budgets and banking. His of course didn’t have a picture like
most, just contained his name (Cayne Smith) and his student ID number which
consisted of nine zeros. His parents sent Cimera with the money which her and
Beam agreed to split the fifty dollars down the middle until after a lengthy
trial K-N was awarded one fifth of the money. He figured this was still a
victory since he was hardly considered one fifth of a whole person. The charge
went through and he grabbed his bag from Mrs. Edelstein as she glanced at the card
to ‘personalize his shopping
experience’.
“Here you go Mr. Smith… Well now that’s a name isn’t
it now? How do you say your first name? (K-N) I mean that is so unique.
(I’m sure it is) I run into a lot of names here (Which makes sense
considering you talk to people every day). I am surprised I haven’t met you
before (Trust me lady, you have). Are you from the area (Why yes,
actually I live just down the street from you, where I have been your neighbor
for the last 16 years)? Maybe now that I know you we’ll see each other
around more often (How about a month from Saturday at the Founder’s Day
party that you gave me an invitation to the last time I was in your line?).”
And then the imaginary conversation that he had faded away, as the next person
in line took his place and he swore he could actually see the recognition fade
from her face. He turned around and headed for the door. Most of K-N’s
conversations happened this way. He had a strange unique ability to separate
his mind from his body and truly focus on two completely different tasks at any
given moment. If people knew of this it may have been an earth shattering
revelation, but he was destined to ambiguity. He could perform basic math and be able to
read a short story without losing anything from either in the process. He was humming
a song and contemplating this as the world suddenly went black.
He awoke with Mrs. Edelstein hovering over him. He
felt confused and vaguely swollen. His face wasn’t his but some strange growth
attached to his head. A paramedic by his
dress was also with him and was talking but it sounded very far away. “Young
man, are you okay? You walked straight into that door full force. I didn’t see
it but I heard it from aisle six. Do you know your name?”
K-N began to speak and then realized that it would
lead to another lengthy conversation that and he didn’t feel like going through
again and besides he didn’t want to risk talking since his face hurt so bad. He
realized this was a valuable test as he could obviously not split his mental
focus into thirds safely.
“Uh… John.” He tried to smile which sent a ripple of
pain through his nose and left cheek.
Uncomfortable conversation continued, undeterred by
his clever ploy, for a moment longer when he was finally told that he should talk
to one of the emergency responders over at the school. K-N sat on a bench for
about fifteen minutes waiting until deciding that he probably had waited long
enough. The idle time, combined with the fact that all the emergency responders
had left the scene had confirmed that the healing of his face was up to him now.
Standing up he began heading towards the public library; it was quiet and
people were expected to ignore you, so in actuality that was one of the most
comforting places for K-N to seek out solitude. As he crossed the street his
eyes were drawn to a street sign and his heart stopped immediately. The sign
displaying 66th St. had a small 6 appended to it, so it made it look
like 666 St. Intersecting it at the same point Holly Way had a tiny U-N written
in at the beginning and the second L had been scraped off. (666 St and Unholy Way?) He looked at his watch and it was 11:06 AM. (This
can’t really be happening)
It was an internal statement and question all at once, but it seemed to take
corporeal form as the fantastic and mundane began to dance around in his head.
He realized that the wheels of circumstance were turning as fast they could and
he decided to wait a few minutes in order to create an illusion of control. K-N
sat gawking at his watch until it read 11:08 and then proceeded to the corner
of 666 St and Unholy Way.
Before him stood a small rundown building that now
wore the hat of the white elephant location for commerce that was in the fashion
of a boarded up local corner store. It was once inhabited by a mom and pop shop,
which had fallen victim to the times, the economy, or any other social
contagion possible. In truth the block was cursed and everyone knew it.
Business opened for years in this location, yet never seemed able to gain foothold. The front door stood before him and the scent
of failure and bankruptcy saturated the air. The glass busted out long ago and
the board covering the entrance stood as a corrupt mural, spray painted over so
many times he could hardly make out the chips in the pressboard beneath. Before
he could consciously think about it his approach his palm autonomously pressed
against the board and slowly the door opened inward. Pitch black, even with the
daylight beaming in behind him, never the less he felt a nagging compulsion to
step further into the ominous void. The absence of light swallowed him whole as
the door shut behind. Realizing that there may have been a real world
explanation of why it was so dark, he took a chance and opened his eyes (that makes a huge difference, so now what).
He stood in a stark white room with a large red oak executive desk in front of
him. Elegant chairs sat opposite a throne of opulence. A figure sat upon the
great throne and smiled a warm and inviting smile that sent shivers down his
back. He was tall if this could be judged by his seated position with long hair
neatly tied behind him and a white suit with a red frilled dress shirt beneath.
“K-N, it is simply a delight of you to come to my
office and hear me out. Please, have a seat. You will have to forgive my lack
of refreshments my prep team must be running behind today. Sometimes I just
want to skin them alive, coat them in honey and stake them to an anthill. (A little extreme, don’t you think?) I am
glad you could at least make it on time. Although I knew you would.” Sadistic
words, followed by that eerily wax-like smile again, he knew it as the look
that a cat got when it was eating your parakeet. Pride for its accomplishment
was the main course while your tragic suffering was the, oh so delectable
dessert.
“uh…” Nope,
no one spoke, “Actually, I waited until I was a little late to see what
happened.” his voice sounded hollow and far away while his vision reminded him
of watching events through a thick pane of glass.
“Really, your time must be mistaken. You should check
your watch, as it appears you are exactly on schedule, at least by my clock”
The predator soothed with his melodic voice as he pointed at a large wall clock
that K-N swore wasn’t there when he first came in. The mysterious clock showed a
time of 11:06 AM and the second hand was frozen in place at one second from
sixty.
“I have another appointment later this afternoon and
I have been a step behind all day today. Why don’t I discuss the reason I have
invited you, let’s face it, a patently unremarkable person, to come to my office
in the first place?” He stood (yep tall
just like I though) and walked to K-N in what appeared to be one long
stride. “You see K-N, you are a non-person or Fateless if you will. You are a
person so powerful and unique, yet you are unable to gain purchase within
society to truly allow your special qualities to show. Simply put, you have no
path, no future, and no fate. And it is this feature which appeals to me
greatly. I want to offer you a chance, quite literally to put that body to good
use and change world. I propose a chance at giving you a life that is exactly
what you have been craving your whole uneventful existence. I will also deliver
all of this to you for a relatively modest fee.” He paced for a second and then
came back around his desk to sit. “Don’t worry I don’t need money or anything
base or carnal, just a small favor. I am sure you can see that Dukes of Hell
myself included, or devils if you will (There
it was he really said it aloud… the ‘D’ word.) have an incredibly
inconvenient downside. We cannot become more than we were meant to be once the
title of Devil is bestowed on us. Once promoted, we are stuck in middle
management forever. It’s not as bad as the job of a bile demon or viscera mop
boy, but it is maddeningly frustrating never the less. Especially so, for those
of us with vision, ambition and drive like myself. In order to think outside
the box and promote change, we must massage humanity for leverage. We cannot affect
pre-ordained destiny and since his highness, is omniscient or all knowing, that
means all destinies are pre-ordained. Yes, yes… I know what you are going to
say, (K-N wasn’t planning on saying
anything, but he decided to let the riffing devil to continue on) what
about free will? (Very clever question,
I wish I would have come up with it.)
It’s a cosmic joke. Sure, you can choose whether you are going to brush your
teeth before bed or not, but that’s about the most important choice you are
allowed to make. You are unable to make any of the real choices that are
written in stone, so to speak. See THE Devil and his holiness have these little
side wagers (Satan and God, check, this
is now the first sign of schizophrenia.). Some revolve around major things
and some minor, but in the end it all comes down to one thing. (I think he is actually pausing for dramatic
effect) Humanities existence is a game. Don’t get me wrong it’s a game with
so much strategy and drama that no one except those two can ever fully comprehend
it. We’re not talking about Chutes and Ladders or Candy Land here, but more
like chess or Pai Gow. Everyone and everything else, be it demon, angel or
humanity all just wait for their turn on the board. I would like to propose a stop
to this. I would like to campaign for free will using your body as my chosen
vessel of facilitation. Unlike the rest of us you have no place on the board,
so you are free to move however you want. Since no one knows you exist, you can
greatly affect the pieces on the board while remaining virtually unseen for the
most part. In return I would like to give your body exactly what it craves most.
Recognition. Finally, you can have fear, hate, love, admiration, and all the
wonderful emotional responses in between, for the reasonable price of the use
of your body for one week. Well, I should say seven and a half days if I were
to be exact. We are both bound by contract, you lending your body within the
terms and I returning after said timeframe. At the conclusion of that period of
time, you will be in complete control again and be able to reap the rewards of
our partnership.” This monologue was almost completely lost on K-N. He was
still wrapping his head around everything (How
could any of this be possible).
“Eh… Sir, how can you really expect me to believe any
of this? I mean the whole heaven and hell thing is a great moral compass, but I
am struggling with this entire thing being real?” This was one of those times
where you pinch yourself. (Ouch) Not
good. K-N’s inner Jiminy was shouting at him to get the hell out of there with
your fingers jammed into your ears till they hit brain. There was another
voice with warm inviting tones that seductively whispered, what harm could it do though, just to consider his proposal? Who is
to say the loudest voice it the one worth hearing. He could taste the sweetness
stoking his innermost desire. After all, his host couldn’t possibly do anything
within such a short time that would have an impact on the progress of the
universe. After all, in seventeen years nothing memorable had ever transpired concerning
any of his actions or within his presence.
He doesn’t understand what he
couldn’t possibly achieve anything within one week. I am getting all the upside
and none of the down. Poor guy, I almost feel bad for him.
There
should have been serious deliberation about this, but any chance of not
becoming a specter floating through existence without the ability to reach
others, really did maneuver K-N towards Innee’s proposal.
“As you are aware, I myself am a Duke of Hell, and
around here we have a certain ways of doing things. Paperwork is something we
are all slaves too. It’s is a lot of red tape if you ask me, but it is
tradition, and my superiors love their formalities and details. I just need you
to sign a contract.” He suddenly sat with a stack of papers in front of him and
K-N was seated in a chair adjacent. He reached over to press a button on the
table and a distinctly nasal intercom voice chimed in.
“Yes, Mr. Solz, how may I help you?” The voice
called out cheerfully (eerily so).
“Yes Meredith, can you please send in a quill and
some virgin blood?” Noticing the shudder in K-N, Innee covered the receiver and
quickly added, “Don’t worry its synthetic. It’s too expensive for genuine
virgin blood in this economy. Better chance of a Sasquatch tap dancing down
Main Street. And I am sure I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to get a Bigfoot
to actually wear tap shoes (K-N was not
aware it had ever been tried or even contemplated). I also know what you
are going to say about the blood. How can you say there is a quote unquote, ‘Virgin
Shortage’?” (Once more K-N was unaware
that he was going to express that thought) “Well there are actually a lot
of criteria for ‘True Virgins’. First of all, contrary to the popular
misconception baby blood is not virgin blood (First of all in what circles is this a topic that could be contemplated
let alone be called ‘popular’ and second why was there even a conception to be mis’d
in the first place), it’s a different commodity all together. In fact, due
to the low virgin population, baby blood is glutting the market something
fierce (I guess I should have sold my
shares in occult chemicals, and purchased more Virgin Blood). You see K-N,
a virgin must be firstly, a virgin by choice, the must also have a moral reason
for the decision to abstain, not just because they are in the ‘uggo’s and ‘fugglies’
group, and lastly they must be of child bearing age. Long gone are the days of
just grabbing any eight year child old off the street (These days were not in any history book that he had ever read nor as
far as he knew anywhere prominently documented in the halls of antiquity).
I told you there was a lot of red tape nowadays. Needless to say we have gone
to a synthetic blood source for contracts and basic summoning rites (My, it sure is good to know that even hell
is going green). Don’t even get me started on the NPI (‘Who?’ thought K-N while Innee continued in
anticipation of his confusion), that’s the Newborn Protection Initiative
and their tyrannical stranglehold on the children’s tears commodities market.
You used to be able to just go up and snarl at any toddler and get what you
needed. Now you need parental consent, a chaperone from the other side to
ensure that you aren’t using derogatory language or being cruel in any way that
may permanently scar their tasty little psyche’s, and then you have to submit
to a chemical analysis to prove you aren’t using performance enhancing
substances. One demon recently was stripped of his seven wailing baby titles
because of using pepper. I know you are thinking, ‘But Innee, pepper is all
natural’, but like I said it’s all very political now.”
A break in the monologue allowed a mental breath. His
mind reeling, K-N figured that this must be what insanity feels like.
Mainstream psychology never delves into how exhausting madness is. Before he
knew it he held the quill in his hand even though he was certain that he never
picked it up. More terrifying than anything K-N was experiencing was the truly
horrific realization that he was actually considering this obviously diabolical
proposal. What rational person would
believe any of this? If it was real then how could he actually be weighing
the consequences of making a deal with the devil (A devil, not THE Devil)?
“I…
I am not sure about any of this. Historically these things never go well. Has
anyone ever come out ahead in these kinds of deals?” It was a reasonable
question and K-N was unusually proud of himself in this instance for being able
to articulate it despite the absurdity of the entire situation.
“An excellent point to which I answer, yes!” He was
beginning his pitch. “For example; I don’t like to name names, but certain bags
of flesh, having no remotely marketable skills now find themselves at the
center of constant media attention. And why is that, you may ask (He is right, I would ask)? This is due in no small part, to my clever creation, the
form of entertainment known as Reality Television. After all, how else would
laughable individuals with names like ‘Snookie’ and ‘The Situation’ get on a
television show that didn’t begin with the theme song from, Cops? They were all
insignificant people who are now famous for no reason at all, due mostly to me.
Their only downfall is that they usually make stupid choices with their
newfound notoriety, such as thinking that they could make the leap across the
chasm of talent less to talented with plunging into the crevasse and fade once
more, into the media abyss of obscurity.”
“You…” K-N began to stammer when he was quickly cut
off.
“But, more to your point, there is a high likelihood
that it could end badly, but it is ultimately in your hands. As far as the deal, I can say with certainty
that I know how this is supposed to work. I have a little over three millennia
in street cred and an impeccable client satisfaction rating.” Innee continued
his boasting, while pointing to a newly materialized bar graph resting on an
easel, which listed his rating against other demons, jinn, fairies and the
like.
“It’s…” he uttered, trying to take advantage of
Innee’s breath pause. (Epic fail)
“It’s just that it is a lot to take in, a big
commitment if you will.” He continued cutting off K-N’s chances of formulating
any thought let alone a response. “I feel that if you would just give me a chance,
I could show you the greatness that we could achieve together kiddo, you and me
as comrades in arms and purpose.” Pause.
“Sir!” K-N half shrieked, “Sorry about that, but I am
just not sure I understand what you get out of this.”
“Ah, well aren’t we a shrewd negotiator. Always mind
the quiet ones I always say. I can see that a little background may be in order.
You see other than THE Devil; we are all just fools for base desires, complete
hedonists if you will. We feed off humanity in excess, but we really have little
to no direct interaction with them, or at least no more than the average human
has with the cow their hamburgers are made from. It can be callous, but since
we were made without free will, we are one giant basal ganglian instinct which
drives us utterly over the edge of voracity and right through crapulence then
ever onward passed gluttony and onto a term so encompassing the porcine style
of eating that it has never been fully comprehended and thus has not been named
(The Valdemort of adjectives). There
has been so called ‘progress’ (Air
quoting) in Hell, though mostly it still revolves around the ability to
feed more effectively amongst the ‘enlightened’ (Air quoting) humans of this
instant gratification epoch. I mean the consistent production of wars has
always been a blue chip investment, but social networking and the advent of
cyber-bullying, has done more for Hell’s economy in the last decade than the
Holocaust and so-called religious cleansings combined ever has.”
It made an eerie kind of sense. K-N was not an economic
genius, but a non-existence had led him to become very perceptive (also the nagging feeling that Facebook and
Twitter were inherently evil). He knew there was a catch, but he also
needed to know what life would be without complete anonymity and the feeling of
impotence with which his destiny had failed to perform up until this point. He
attempted to focus on the daunting contract in front of him. It was massive. He
could not see over the top of it without standing up. In large scrolling glyphs
it spelled out the statement of the contract.
I, K-N Smith, herein referred to as the Entree,
being of sound mind and ill fated existence, do hereby turn my corporeal form,
herein referred to as the Happy Meal, while retaining the right to my astral,
and eternal body, and without any release of my soul, herein referred to as the
Dessert, to the persona of Innee Dove Solz, in his capacity as a devil and Duke
of Hell, herein referred to as the CQC or Culinary Quality Connoisseur, for a
period of seven revolutions of the planet known as Gaia, herein referred to as Mother
Earth, even though she is an enigmatic fickle bitch who hates hippies and
nature lovers almost as much as big industry, around Earth’s closest star,
herein referred to as the Sol, being the self important pompous bastard with an
inflated sense of egocentricity that he is , at which time full control of the Happy
Meal will revert unharmed to the Entree, with a significantly noticeable impact
on his existence and destiny, herein referred to as his Seal of Approval, upon
the mortal plane of existence, herein known as the Chophouse.
“Let me make this painless for you. Please initial
here, and then skip to page 137 and initial there, also I need your initials on
the waivers on page 463, 564, 613 and 624. (Why
am I signing this?) Don’t worry, it’s just a bunch of legal jargon designed
to cover our asses should the tribunal of the celestial bureaucracy wish to
dispute the validity of our agreement. Lastly, on page 666 please sign your
full legal name and date it. Please make sure you date it, one time someone
didn’t date it and we wound up with a null contract and Marc over in accounting
gained control of Adolph Hitler, and made him a painter. It took years of court
battles to give him his body back, so he could proceed with his supremacist
spiral into insanity. A simple dab of superglue on the receiver wouldn’t do for
that office prankster. No, Marc was like, “Wouldn’t it be funny if I took
control of the Führer’s
flesh bag and made him out to be a painter just to see the contract divisions
fear of beheading.” that moron almost stopped our chosen one from doing a
nearly perfect job of global chaos.”
Inee was obviously troubled by this. “But, I digress. All we need here
is a notary.”
K-N
never realized fully that he was signing anything, but he continued to follow
the instructions met out by the suave Duke of Hell. A few second later a large
man with his eyes sewn shut, entered the room with his ears removed and paved
over with smooth almost plastic like skin. He walked over and proceeded to
notarize the document in its entirety. First
off how does he qualify as a witness to anything and second… Ijust sold my soul to the Devil I mean A
Devil… His voice seemed like vapor as it trailed off without mass or
substance. This was followed by a rough, uncomfortable squeezing sensation
almost like a hug that’s too tight from someone you just met. Then as if a
rubber band had been stretched to its limit finally snapping he was released.
K-N
was looking at himself or at least he seemed to be. Before him was his own
body, but with a more pronounced and confident posture (Better hair too). Then he made the mistake of touching his arm and
it began to burn like a hot coal. Quickly jerking his hand back defensively as
the new K-N smiled that disconcerting grin that Inee showed him upon entering.
“I
wouldn’t do that if I were you. Oh… well I guess I am you now. Either way, I still
wouldn’t do that. You are outside of your body and if you try and interact with
a living being, it’s similar to dipping your hand in acid. Now grab your
contract and take it to Louise down at central filing. By the time you get back
here your body should revert to you and everything will be better than before.
A world of change awaits you.” New K-N pointed to the contract all bundled up
an somehow contained within a inter office mail envelope. “Now be a good lad,
and leave me to my business. I can take it from here.”
K-N
looked at his hands and they appeared of flesh, but he was slightly
translucent. He grabbed the envelope and motioned towards the door closest to
him. He was directed with a curt nod from the New K-N, towards a door on the
opposite side of the room.
“Yes,
that’s it, just through there and you will find the directory with a map and
directions. Be careful not to tarry from your task. Things can get a little
dicey at corporate if you were to fail to file that with contracts. Also you
should note that your contract might have a small caveat about failure to
deliver within the allotted time can result in forfeiture of a physical body
and enslavement in hell for all eternity. I am sure you will have no troubles
since all you are doing is taking the elevator and walking that little package
to the required department and it is mostly in there as matter of insurance.”
The new K-N was likeable and charismatic and commanding enough to follow.
Slowly K-N walked out the door somehow concluding this was his idea all along
and ignoring the fact that failure would result in damnation.
