Comedic Divinity: Fateless (Chapter 1:

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 666^th 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 12^th 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 66^th 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.

Comedic Divinity: Fateless (Prologue: Not me, you want him over there)

I hope you all enjoy the prologue, from my first novel, Comedic Divinity: Fateless I know I have enjoyed writing it. If you have any questions or comments please feel free to ask and share this with others if you think it may be their kind of read. 1st chapter titled "Chapter 1: This guy right here" will release later this evening as a Halloween gift to you all. Enjoy!

Prologue: Not me, you want him over there

It was a brand new day. The young man awoke to birds singing a few minutes before his alarm went off. He loved waking up on a nice crisp autumn day. When the sun shone directly on him and it felt like summer and if he got too hot, he could easily just step into the shade and wait mere seconds to cool off completely.

This bedroom was the largest in the house and since his parents were rarely home at the same time, they decided that they could trade rooms with him. After all, he usually spent more time in his room getting ready or working out that it just made sense to all parties involved. The privacy was nice and the fact that he didn’t have to share the bathroom with his sister was a huge bonus. Technically, he had a brother also, but no one ever really paid any attention to him. His inconsequential brother had a loft in the attic that he envied, but because of its distance to the backdoor and ground floor windows it would have been way to inconvenient for his sex life. He proceeded to wash his face, do his hair (which takes forever to look like one just got out of bed) and then stare longingly at his own reflection. Vanity wasn’t something he concerned himself with it was just slight nuisance when he was in a hurry. He knew how he looked by the attention from his parents, the envy from the guys on his football and baseball teams, the praise from teachers and his coach, the unrelenting love notes from the girls in and out of school and of course the universe for dropping never ending supplies of talent, potential and luck at his feet at every chance it got. It wasn’t all money; women and all around greatness, there were some significant downsides too. For instance Beam hated that his email and voicemail system inboxes were always full. Another pitfall was never having a single date for the weekend because the list was just too hard to whittle down to only one. This sometimes resulted in several dates in a single day leaving Beam utterly exhausted and spent.

He headed out the door and decided he wanted to get food on the way to school. He unlocked the muscle car he nicknamed Beam’s Laser which was given to him by a man who was on the way to sell it to pay his medical bill for pennies of what it was worth Instead he ran into this charming young man working at the local grocery store. The man scratched a lottery ticket after he was prompted by the fates and won a million dollars a year for the next thirty years. Since he had solved all his problems he tossed his keys to the handsome and obviously deserving bag boy, and told him the title was already signed in the glove box and to take her since he didn’t need her anymore.

Laser streaked through a drive–thru window where he got a coffee and some food. Of course he never had to pay because the establishment was managed by a junior at his high school that always gave him free food just so he would keep coming back and let her stare at him and fanaticize. He checked his phone and sent a text to his date that night saying he wouldn’t be there on time. He pulled off the road and ate his breakfast while savoring his coffee, which made sense because he knew once at school he wouldn’t have a hand free, from all the high-fives from the men and embracing from the girls. This was about to become another great day for this up and coming hero in the pantheon of high school godhood.

His locker had a heart written in lipstick on it with G+B=Luv. So he opened it up and laid his bag comfortably in it while removing his folder for his first class. He was trying hard to remember who G­ was and why he and she were in Luv… His sister, Cimera, waved as she strolled past and was already heading to her class late like always. Something felt out of place when he nearly collided with someone failing to yield the hallway to him. He had never had someone not clear his way before and the obviously foreign sensation gave him pause.

“Excuse me, I didn’t notice you there.” A melodic almost mercurial quality softly floated from the offenders lips. He was a tall man was dressed very formal, in a custom tailored expensive suit and tie, but looked young like he was still in college or just graduated from one. A strange smell like rotten eggs and stale sweat wafted through the halls.

Time seemingly stopped and the man raised his eyebrow quizzically. The scent still hung in the air almost like the wrestling team had failed to shower in months and were on a strict hardboiled eggs diet for that entire duration. He figured that he should mention it to maintenance when he saw the janitor next. Beam was pretty sure that he read that natural gas leaks are designed to smell like rotten eggs.

“I hope you can lead me to someone.” It must be a scout for a college. They were always stopping by or sending letters, hoping for a commitment from this him. Beam had avoided committing to continue to weigh his options and he certainly would not commit without a news conference, but he really liked seeing what praise he could get from these scouts. He was sought after for multiple sports, but was still deciding what sport he would like to go pro in. It was a hard decision since he was so good at everything.

“Oh, of course. You are probably looking for me.” He smiled his most attractive ‘worship me’ smile.

“Excellent I needed to talk to you for a few minutes. You see, K-N…” The Suit was cut short by the look of shock on the young man’s face.

“K-N? K-N Smith? Wait, I think you must be… no, I’m pretty sure you are looking for me. I’m Beam Smith. You are looking for the talented one, right?” This was a first. No one who ever met them could possibly have mistaken Beam for his younger brother. It was not a pleasant feeling to be the one left in the shadows.

“I am afraid not. I am here for K-N Smith.” This guy was actually serious. Beam’s mind raced at this unprecedented scenario. The question of who this stranger was rattled around his head like buckshot, but as he was stumbling through his muddled mental process it occurred to Beam that maybe he really wasn’t the focus of all peoples attention. Quickly discarding that as ridiculous, he spied a vaguely familiar face in the sea of students leaning against a locker with hands thrust into pockets.

“Well, uh… that wouldn’t be me. I guess if it’s not me, you want him over there” The Man turned in that direction. His gaze fell upon Beam’s younger brother predatorily and caused a brief moment of protectiveness towards him, from the older Smith boy.

“Yes, that’s him alright. Thanks kid, I hope to be looking for you someday as well.” He turned and began to walk away when Beam half shouted after him.

“Hey, I thought you said you wanted to see him?” He was befuddled by the eerie vibe he was getting from the enigmatic individual. It was either the feeling of shock that he wasn’t the focus of his search or the prevalent scent of sweaty sulfur that kept assaulting his nose.

“I did… and I did.” He flashed a smile at Beam that caused his fingers and toes to go numb. The brief glance forced him to look away, as if a he was shying away from a particularly brutal scene in some grindhouse-esque torture-porn slasher film. When the shock to his nervous system subsided he looked towards the man, but there was no one there, as if there had never been anyone there at all. That was odd, where did you go? Beam mentally conversed with the empty space previously occupied by mysterious stranger. Yep, definitely a gas leak. He gathered his book bag and turned to walk towards his class when he decided to be a little late and talk to the janitor in order to get rid of that vile emanation.