Ethereal Theater of the Absurd, Part 6

All we can do is our best according to our talents which we have not buried. All judgements upon our doing are subjective. And our being? Can't touch that!


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE


“Then hell’s my proper place,” Ernest said. “All my friends will be there. None of
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them ever had a pot to piss in. They were artists, wisdom seekers, the beautifully wound-
ed. All poor, all struggling to make sense of this sick existence. All slaves to their own
addictions, yes, but good hearts, good friends, and none of them were willing to sell their
souls for cash! for you! for your ghastly absurd paradigm!”
WANNA BET?
Silence from Ernest, his eyes on Sarah. We lived lifetimes in those two years. We
augmented each other, healed each other. Our love was real, wasn’t it?
GOD IS KEEPING TABS. SHALL I GIVE YOU THE LOWDOWN?
I cooled the cloth for your boiling head. I held it there. I was not a monster.
YOUR FRIEND KATIE, THE PAINTER, HAS HOOKED UP WITH A SUC-
CESSFUL ART DEALER. SHE’S SLOBBING HIS KNOB RIGHT NOW FOR CASH,
FOR ME. YOUR FRIEND SUSAN HAS MET A YOUNG, RICH, UP-AND-COMING
ACTOR WITH CONNECTIONS. SHE WILL NOT COME TO GOD EMPTY-
HANDED. EVEN YOUR FRIEND BRANDON HAS.
“Hey God, it’s party time!” A new male arrival strutted in, donning a spiffy grey
suit with black pinstripes, a wide-brimmed triangular hat cocked to one side, and black
patent leather shoes, freshly shined. He produced a pen and a check book from his suit’s
inside pocket.
“Brandon, say it ain’t so?” Ernest said. “And why do you get to wear clothes?”
Ignoring Ernest, Brandon scrawled out a check with ornate flourish. “What’s up
God!” he said.
WELCOME PRIZED PEARL! I’VE BEEN EXPECTING YOU. THIS POOR
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PUNY FRIEND OF YOURS THOUGHT HE COULD APPEAR BEFORE GOD SANS
CASH.
“He don’t get stuff God. I tried as you know. He’s stupid, and sick.”
SO I’VE LEARNED. HIS POOR EX-WIFE HERE AGREES.
Ernest fought back tears. “We believed the same things Brandon, remember?
Civilization’s a toilet! Reality’s a farce! Money-hungry type-A pricks are crazy!”
Brandon tore out the check and turned to Sarah. “Was sex with the monster bad?”
“Don’t answer that turncoat, honey,” Ernest said. “I can’t believe this shit.”
“Shut up Ernie. I don’t want to lose count.” Sarah straightened the stack of
money. “Fifty grand so far.” She smile and addressed Brandon, “Did you know he liked
little girls?”
Brandon laughed. “Everyone knew.”
“It was the worst sex ever,” Sarah said. “The fumbling idiot took forever to come.
I’d lay there, feigning interest, awaiting the money shot, awaiting the money shot till bored
I’d push him out of me unsatisfied, but worst of all was his anal fixation. But I got him
back. I shit on the monster’s dick.”
HA HA HA. SUCKS AT SEX. SUCKS AT SUCCESS. GETS SHIT ON BY
ALL.
Ernest rose to his feet. “Yeah, thanks everyone. At least I didn’t sell out.”
DIDN’T THEY TEACH YOU IN SCHOOL THAT COMMERCE WAS GOOD?
“Of course but--Brandon! What happened?”
“I played the stocks on the sly,” Brandon said, adjusting his tie. “I invested in arm-
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ament corporations, made it big, cashed in this morning and poisoned myself.”
“You killed yourself?” said Ernest.
“I had the good sense to bring my check book.”
“You hear that God?” Ernest wagged his finger.
YOU DO NOT HAVE THE NEEDED CASH TO MAKE JUDGEMENTS
HERE. BOTH SUICIDES AND PROSTITUTES ARE WELCOME IF THEY HAVE
ENOUGH CASH BUT NOT YOU. I AM A FORGIVING AND MERCIFUL GOD
FOR THOSE WHO CAN AFFORD ME.
“Here’s my check,” Brandon said. “Three hundred sixty grand.”
WELL DONE MY GOOD AND FAITHFUL SERVANT! YOU QUALIFY FOR
PLATINUM MEMBERSHIP. AN UNLIMITED BAR TAB AND UNLIMITED
PUSSY AWAIT THEE.
Spiral arms formed and the angel choir sang. “Brandon wait!” Ernest called.
“What about the mushroom? What about the gnosis?”
“Gnosis shmosis, wet brain. It’s just a drug,” Brandon said before being
swooshed into the kingdom amid joyful trumpeting. Ernest stared long at the space
through which his friend had vanished, the following silence broken only by the rustling of
Sarah’s growing money-stack.
“Sarah,” Ernest said. “Can I please have a smoke before you go?”
“I guess,” she said, lighting one and flipping it to him. Ernest savored the drags,
and one more time tried to wish himself back to the hospital bed.
GOD GAVE YOU TWENTY-TWO YEARS OF WORKING LIFE TO
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ACCUMULATE ENOUGH CASH. HOW DID YOU SQUANDER IT? WHERE DID
IT GO? ARE YOU CERTAIN IT’S NOT STUCK UP YOUR ASSHOLE?
“I was a waiter once!”
NOW YOU’RE JUST AN ASSHOLE.
“I had bills to pay, and I was nervous. I needed smokes and beer.”
EXCUSES, EXCUSES. SO MUCH PROMISE PISSED AWAY ON PIPE-
DREAMS AND AN EASY BUZZ. YOU SUCK!
“Pipedreams? I labored to build an authentic life, and I was a brilliant writer.
You can ask Susan when she gets here. She read it all. I was a genius!”
GOD GLADLY ACCEPTS CASH FROM FOOLS AND GENIUSES ALIKE.
WHERE ARE THE FRUITS OF YOUR LABORS?
“I couldn’t get published. It’s not my fault. Ask Susan.”
LEAVE HER OUT OF IT. SHE WAS A GOOD INFLUENCE ON YOU.
“I know. She was my motherfucking muse!”
YOU SHOULD HAVE WRITTEN MARKETABLE MATERIAL! INSTEAD
YOU SCRIBBLED BLASPHEMIES. SO MUCH BITTERNESS. SO MUCH SELF-
LOATHING. SO MUCH SHIT. NOT MARKETABLE.
“I wrote what moved me! I followed my goddamn heart!”
AND WROTE PERVERSITIES. WHAT A FOUL HEART YOU HAVE.
“I had spiritual epics planned for the future! I was in process and growing in
power and.”
AND YOU’RE ABOUT TO BE DAMNED. HA HA HA. ANOTHER GOD-
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ZINGER!
“Sarah,” Ernest said. “Tell God I was good. Tell God I was worthy.”
Sarah turned to God. “I have fifty-two thousand, Lord”
WELL DONE MY GOOD AND FAITHFUL SERVANT! YOUR FRIENDS
WAIT FOR THEE IN THE COCKTAIL ROOM.
After Sarah was snatched to paradise, Ernest broke down and wept bitterly. He
wracked his brain, and finally said with contrition, “All I have to offer you, God, is the
talent you so blessed me with. Allow me to praise you with a poem of thanksgiving for
the rich, strange life you gave me.”
MAYBE YOU CAN WRITE THE DEVIL A LOVE SONNET WHILE HE
RAPES YOU!
“God, please listen to me! We can reason this out!”
DEPART FROM ME, PENNILESS WRETCH! I CAST YOUR CASHLESS
STENCH INTO THE FIRES OF PERDITION NOW!
“No but! But God!”
I NEVER KNEW THEE!
Ernest trembled, folding icy hands in prayer, then--Poof!