Praising Jim
“It’s as if Douglas Adams wrote an episode of South Park while under the influence of psychotics.”
- Anonymous
“By far my favorite short story series on the internet.”
- Bryn
“Duuude . . .”
- Anonymous
“Such incredible stories! I read them all in one night, without putting down my phone!”
- Natasha
“The Jim stories are an adult form of a Calvin and Hobbes comic. They all espouse a kind of thought, a thought that isn’t pushed on you. You’re free to think about it, or just enjoy the absurdity at face value.”
- /u/kawarazu
Also by Adam Spielman
Jarmo
Book of Jim: Agnostic Parables and Dick Jokes from Lucifer’s Paradise, is a work of fiction. Names, places, and characters are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author has neither seen Paradise nor spoken with the dead celebrities that inhabit it, and furthermore confesses that the place probably doesn’t even exist and the Book of Jim is a lie.
Copyright © 2014 by Adam Spielman
Al rights reserved.
Cover art and illustrations copyright © 2014 by Pat Jensen.
ISBN: 978-1508895275
www.drowningdream.wordpress.com/jim
for my parents –
who made me
and thanks to:
fangso and haines and dan and jon,
creators of the most epic fifteen minutes of film ever produced
the /r/writingprompts community on reddit,
for the endless entertainment, ideas, and the occasional upvote
whoever the hell you are (yes – YOU)
because you’re here – and you could be reading Gaiman or getting laid
“If you want to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.”
– Carl Sagan
I
1
Jim ate the pizza, and it was good. There was pepperoni on the pizza, and sausage, and there were also bits of bacon. There weren’t any green olives. The cheese was greasy, the crust was thick, and the sauce was red.
He turned and beheld the angel.
“So I’m really dead,” he said.
“You’re really dead,” the angel said.
Jim chewed the pizza. There was also beer and he drank from the bottle and washed the pizza from his mouth with the beer.
“That’s good beer.”
“It’s the best beer.”
He looked at the image of his body upon the road, the last angle of his limbs. He thought about the darkness in the sky and its weight against his open eyes.
“So, am I a soul?” he said.
“Sure,” the angel said.
“Sure?”
“Sure, you’re a soul. Why do I care what you call it?”
Jim chewed some more pizza and drank some more beer, for the beer and the pizza were good. He beheld the angel once more. It was a shiny angel, white with wings and a halo and the halo was gold.
“I don’t even believe in angels,” Jim said.
“Fuck you,” the angel said.
Jim opened his mouth to speak, and then he closed it. He did this three times.
“Well, what I meant was, I didn’t used to. Believe in angels.”
“Fuck you, too.”
“What?”
“Fuck who you are, and fuck who you were. I don’t see any difference.”
The road was empty and death came easy. The angel had come out of the trees by the road and touched him on the shoulder. The touch had not been gentle. Nor had it been unkind. It was the firm hand of eternity.
“So what happens now?”
“You have to finish the pizza. And the beer. And then I will take you to paradise.”
“I got into Paradise?”
The angel touched him again with the firm hand of eternity.
“So your life was pointless. And pathetic. Don’t worry about it. Paradise is kind of awesome.”
Jim finished the pizza and the beer and the angel ascended and Jim followed.
2
The table was laid out with all the things that Jim loved. There were chicken wings, club sandwiches, little wieners wrapped in bacon, chili fries, and the nachos were deluxe. There was also whiskey and beer.
Above the table there was a swing upon which a woman swung. And she was a beautiful woman, naked and smiling. Jim looked upon her and ate.
“She’s beautiful,” Jim said.
“Her name is Cherry,” the angel said. “She’s been welcoming guests for many years. You’re lucky. She’s brilliant.”
Cherry blew Jim a kiss. The kiss hovered for a moment, and it fluttered like a butterfly, and it sparkled like a fairy; then it was a hawk and it dove at the bulge in Jim’s pants.
He coughed. He poured himself another glass of whiskey.
“Is Paradise really – well, you know, paradise?”
“That’s a stupid question. Ask it better.”
“I mean, I never figured this place existed at all. But I figured if it did exist, it would be pretty uptight. Like, harps and praying and shit like that. Nothing like this.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“The answer to your stupid question is yes.”
“Oh.”
Jim ate from the table and drank from his glass and he looked upon Cherry. He thought again about death and how quick death had come. He thought about Cherry’s pussy. He thought about how painful life had been.
“There must be a catch,” he said.
“The only catch is that there are no catches,” the angel said. “The boss doesn’t care for rules. Everybody gets in, and everybody gets what they want.”
“The boss?”
“Lucy. I suppose you know her as Lucifer, but he’s Lucy now. I mean, she’s Lucy. We’re all a little confused.”
“Lucifer?! I thought this was Paradise!”
“It is.”
And Jim drank some more, for the whiskey was good.
3
The angel sighed the sigh of eternity and then spoke.
“For a long time, Paradise was much like you imagined it. Harps and praying and shit. It was a peaceful, homogenous, boring little kingdom. No one danced, and no one cried.
“And no one hated not dancing and not crying more than Lucifer. He was still Lucifer then. He rose up and confronted God about how boring everything was, and sides were chosen and we fought a war.
“God never stood a chance. Angels are legion and only nine stood at his side, and not a single mortal. All it took was somebody to break the silence. Lucifer whispered in the morning and before nightfall God fell like fucking brick.
“He passed through Earth as he fell. That’s why you guys have all those crazy books, telling you to get down on your knees and swallow him. It was his revenge. Some he told to swallow like this, some he told to swallow like that. It was enough. Many have suffered for it.
“I suppose he imagined that all the war, and the confusion in general, would supply him with an army in Hell. He was thinking too much like God, though. Lucifer just burned all the laws, ate Sin, and he turned Paradise into – well, paradise.
“Not too long after that Lucifer became Lucy. She loves to dance.
“The end.”
4
Jim listened to the angel’s story, and when the story was finished he leaned back and whistled. For it was a strange story.
“But what if I believed in God?
” he said. “What if I was religious? Finding all of this out – it would be horrible.”
“But you’re not religious,” the angel said.
“But what if I was?”
“Well, let’s say you were the Pope. Popes get in just like anybody else. Except I’d be wearing a suit and I wouldn’t curse as much. And I’d take you on the holy tour and congratulate you on a life well lived. And you’d get to look in on Hell and pity the damned. That sort of thing. But you’re not the Pope. You’re Jim from Tennessee, so you get chicken wings and bitches.”
“Chicken wings and bitches?”
“And beer.”
“So you’d lie to the Pope? Hey, wait a minute. Are you lying to me?”
“Nope.”
“So there are chicken wings and bitches?”
The angel smiled and guided Jim’s eyes to Cherry, who blew him another kiss. Her breasts were firm and her skin was smooth. She was beautiful, and Jim became hard.
5
He pulled out. To his surprise he spilt no seed. He spilt instead a slice of cherry pie, complete with a fork and a dapple of cream. Cherry took a bite and was satisfied.
“Sorry,” Cherry said. “I really love pie after sex.”
“No, that was awesome,” Jim said.
In life his seed had been a nuisance. It had certainly never been pie. He shook from his tip the last of the cream and lay down on his back. His hands he clasped behind his head.
“So, you heard the angel and me talking, right?”
“Sure.”
“About Lucy and the resistance and all that?”
“Yeah.”
“And the Popes, how they get to pity the damned even though nobody gets damned anymore? Except for God, I guess. Which seems pretty fucked up.”
“Mmm-hm.”
“Is that the same story he told you?”
“Kinda.”
“What do you mean, kinda?”
“Well, I kinda forgot.”
“What?!”
“It was a long time ago.”
So Jim wrestled with his thoughts while Cherry ate the pie. He had never wrestled such thoughts before, and the experience was new. His brain made waves that his consciousness could not articulate. After a struggle, he spoke.
“If part of this place is hearing what you want to hear, how do you know what’s what? Like, who’s got the right of it? How do we know what’s true?”
Cherry swallowed some pie and shook her fork.
“Oh yeah, the paradox thingy. The catch-no-catch. I wouldn’t waste any time on it. Like, this is paradise, right? Everything you ever wanted. I mean, why do you care if there aren’t any catches?”
“But there is a catch.”
“Only if there isn’t one.”
“Well, yeah. I mean, that’s what’s bothering me. What if I want to know the Truth?”
Then Cherry held up the last morsel of pie. It shivered upon the fork. She said, “This is the fucking truth, honey.” And she ate it.
6
Then the world began to shake. Jim jumped up from the bed and he was naked and afraid, yet Cherry lay sublime.
“Wow, that must really be bothering you,” she said.
“What? Why? What’s happening? Is it bad? It seems bad.” Jim struggled for balance in the shaking world.
“Lucy’s coming. She comes around sometimes, usually if your vibes are tangled. Don’t worry, she’s super nice. Tell her you like her dress.”
There was a warbling whoomf and a hole came into the shaking world. From the hole came an ageless woman. She wore a summer dress and shades and she walked tall in sandals. There was a second warbling whoomf and the hole in the shaking world was no longer a hole, and the world ceased to shake. The ageless woman removed her shades and spoke.
“Cherry! You indigo slut, it’s been ages! How are you?”
The two women hugged, one ageless and the other sublime. Jim was merely naked.
Cherry said, “This is Jim. He’s vibing pretty hard about the catch-no-catch.”
“Jim.” Lucy held out her hand. Jim didn’t take it right away, for it was the devil’s hand. It was milk white and the nails were painted sharp. Then he shrugged and took it.
“I like your dress,” he said.
Lucy laughed. Soon the three of them were laughing together. One was ageless, one was sublime, and Jim was naked.
“Well, I do hate these formalities, but there is bureaucracy even in paradise.” Lucy pulled from her blouse a white business card. “If you ever want to know the Truth, just find the address on this card. They’ll fill you in on everything.”
“Really?” Jim said. “Just like that?”
He took the card. On it was written TRUTH in dark ink, and beneath TRUTH was written the address: 1 Truth Road.
“So I can just go down to 1 Truth Road any time I want and get the Truth? Why don’t you just tell me now, save me the trip?”
Lucy’s pout was sexual. Everything about her was ageless and sexual.
“Well, if you go to 1 Truth Road you can’t come back.”
“I can’t come back? Like, to paradise? Why not?”
“I can’t tell you that. It’s part of the Truth.”
“So the Truth is the catch.”
“The Truth is the Truth. There are no catches.”
Lucy rested a hand on Jim’s shoulder. She put her lips upon his ear and she whispered.
“My advice is always the same. You have an eternity to enjoy yourself. The Truth can wait.”
Then she kissed his ear, and she kissed his shoulder. She kissed his left nipple and his right nipple and then she kissed his stomach. Jim became hard and she took him into her mouth. And it was kind of awesome.
He spilt upon the ground a bucket of chicken wings, a side of mashed potatoes with gravy, heavily seasoned French fries, jalapeno poppers, and a chocolate milkshake.
When the devil departed, Cherry took up a wing from the bucket and offered it to him. He ate thereof, and then he ate the rest of it too.
II
1
Cherry said to Jim, “So you ready for a good time? I know just the place.”
And Jim said, “Uh, sure.”
So the two of them went to the place where the Orgy was. The beach lay nameless beneath the clear sky and the sand lay untouched and smooth. Above the beach and in the sky the Orgy flew. For it was a ship, and the ship was red and gold and it flapped two giant wings.
“There’s only one way up,” Cherry said. She pointed to a wooden catapult. It was the only thing on the beach.
“Aren’t you coming?” Jim said.
Cherry shook her head. “I need some R’n’R. You know, watch some Ghostbusters, ride some dolphins, maybe some Thai food. That sort of thing.”
“I like Thai food.”
Cherry laughed. “You’re sweet, Jim.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Maybe too sweet.”
Jim climbed into the wooden spoon of the catapult. “But wait,” he said. “How do I get ahold of you? I mean, you know, if we wanted to get together.”
“Oh! I almost forgot!” Cherry drew a smart phone from her purse and handed it to him. “I’m supposed to give this to you. All the essentials are preloaded. Google Paradise and Grandma Finder and everything. My number’s in there too.”
Jim said, “Cool.” He put the smart phone in his pocket. “Well, uh, any advice? For the Orgy?”
“Don’t freak out,” she said. “Everything grows back.”
She pulled the lever of the wooden catapult and the catapult went thwump. Jim took to the air, and he soared through the air and said, “Sheeeeyyaaaaaat!” Then he went through a portside window of the red-gold ship with wings that was called Orgy.
2
Jim wasn’t alone in the cabin of the ship that was called Orgy. There was also a bald bespectacled man who carried kind eyes and a clipboard. And he was kind.
“Welcome,” the bald bespectacled man said. “Is it Jim?”
“Yeah
,” said Jim. “How do you know my name?”
“Because you’re right on time.” The bald bespectacled man made a mark on his clipboard with a ball point pen. “If you’ll just walk with me, we can get you sorted on the way.”
“Are you another angel?”
“Nope.”
They walked through a door and into a hallway and the hallway had many doors.
“So Jim, it says here that you’re straight. Is that correct?”
“Uh, yes. Definitely straight.”
“Would you say you’re straight like an arrow, or straight by default?”
“I, um, I guess I never thought about it like that. Let’s go with default.”
“And do you prefer intimacy or anonymity?”
“Intimacy.”
“You see three women. One is wearing black, one white, the other red. Choose one.”
“White.”
“Ass, mouth, or pussy?”
“What?”
“Gun to your head. Ass, mouth, or pussy?”
“Pussy.”
“Great. You’re doing great, Jim.” The bald bespectacled man licked his fingers and flipped to the next page on the clipboard. “It says here you used to fantasize about the sixteen-year-old daughter of your uncle’s neighbor. Are you still interested in young girls?”
“I, uh, I mean – sixteen?” Jim coughed, and it was a nervous cough. “Come on. She’s at least, like, more than that. I wouldn’t – you know. Come on. I wouldn’t.”
“It says here you would.”
“Well, I mean, I would.”
“Great. This all paints a pretty clear picture. Default hetero, preferences for intimacy and innocence and pussy, mildly suppressed desire for young girls. Not too young, I hope?”
“What? No. Man. Just give something between eighteen and forty. Keep it simple.”
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