“That’s Sylvia’s signature,” she said. “I’d have bet the left side of paradise against it, but there it is in black and white. Jim is not a cock-around. I don’t know how you managed it, but you did. I suppose I owe you an apology and some congratulations.”
Jim said, “Don’t mention it.”
She filed the form away, and then she gave Jim the business eye. She said, “Unfortunately, your application did not survive the preliminary screening. It’s already been denied.”
Jim came near to shitting. “What?! How can that happen? I passed. I jumped through every damn hoop you threw at me. Who denied me?”
“There is a committee. They found you wanting.”
“Why?”
“You’re not pretty enough.”
“Not pretty enough? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Angels are pretty. You are not. Therefore your application has been denied.”
“But – but that’s institutional. The shaming of the form. You’re objectifying me. Symbolism and heteronormativity. Emotions. What about my goddamn emotions?” Jim sputtered the jargon of the modern woman for several minutes. Then he gave the executive his alpha finger. He said, “You threw me into the lake of pussy fire! I watched The Notebook twice!”
But the executive woman was unmoved. “The gains of feminism do not apply to you.”
“Well why the hell not?”
“It’s swinging between your legs, cowboy.” She looked at the numberless clock that ticked upon the wall. She shuffled a stack of papers. “Now, I suggest you take it like a man and remove yourself from my office, or I’ll be forced to file a harassment charge.”
As he left Jim swiped a cactus from the bookshelf. It was a foot tall and as thick as a soda can. “This is mine,” he said.
“Take it. They grow like weeds.” And the executive woman waved him away with the back of her hand.
XIII
1
It came to pass that Jim stood at 1 Truth Road. He was sad to leave paradise, but he knew in his heart-brain-balls that he was not for eternity. He thought, I suck at orgies and I’m too dumb for suffering, I started a religious war with my dick, my aborted brother called me a fag and I’m not pretty enough to be an angel. Paradise just ain’t for me.
Cherry stood with him.
“It’s funny how small it is,” she said. “I figured it would be big, like a skyscraper or something.”
“Yeah,” Jim said. For the building was small. Then he took her hand and became sincere. “Cherry, I’m glad you came. You didn’t have to. And I know you think I’m being an idiot.”
“I really can’t talk you out of it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What do you suppose is in there?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s pie.”
Cherry squeezed his hand. Jim returned the squeeze. It felt nice to touch another soul while standing before the Truth.
“I’m sorry I nuked your pussy and abandoned you in the fallout,” he said.
“Oh, we don’t have to talk about that.” Cherry leaned her head on his shoulder. “This is the end for you. Let’s just be together and share a moment before you go.”
“Okay.”
So they shared a moment.
“Are you sure it’s okay?”
“My pussy?”
“Everything.”
“Yeah, everything’s okay. I like this place, Jim. I like waking up and not knowing what’s going to happen. And I don’t need to understand it.”
“You think I’m being an idiot.”
“I think it won’t be enough.”
“It’s the Truth.”
“The Truth is just another place to be. And when you get there, you don’t ever get to go anywhere else. And it looks fucking boring.”
Jim laughed. It was the laughter of the soul, for it started in his balls and rattled his heart and brain. And when the laughter was finished his kissed Cherry on the lips. He said,
“If you see the devil, tell her thanks. For everything.”
“I will.”
And Jim walked into the small building at 1 Truth Road.
2
The room was white. Behind a desk sat the bald bespectacled man, who was kind.
“You seek the Truth?” he said.
“I do,” Jim said. “And you’re the guy that tried to hook me up with the cancer virgin. You summonsed me to existential court. You do the Truth?”
“I do the Truth.” The bald bespectacled man took out a folder from a cabinet. “And if you don’t mind, there’s a series of questions I’d like to ask you. This part is completely optional, but your honest answers help us improve paradise.”
Jim shrugged. “Yeah, go ahead.”
The bald bespectacled man took a fresh form from the folder and he made ready his pencil. Then he began with his questions.
“How awesome was our staff? These are all one to ten, by the way.”
Jim thought of the angel who had given him pizza, and the angel who had gotten him high. He thought of the nice woman at the Mortality Plaza.
“Ten,” he said.
“And how awesome was the company?”
Jim thought of Shakespeare and Einstein and Hemingway and Plato. He thought of Jesus, Marco Polo, Hitler and the devil. He thought of Cherry.
“Ten,” he said.
“How awesome was the weather?”
“Ten.”
“How awesome was the transportation?”
“Ten.”
“How awesome was the architecture?”
“Ten.”
“How awesome was the wi-fi?”
“Ten.”
“How awesome was the plumbing?”
“Really?” For Jim could answer ten no more. “What does the plumbing have to do with it? Aren’t there any questions in there about, I don’t know, happiness? Peace of mind? Solidarity?”
“No, there aren’t.” The bald bespectacled man smiled, and it was a kind smile. “I’m afraid all of that is none of our business.”
“Well then what is your business?”
“Plumbing.”
“Plumbing.”
“Plumbing.”
“You know what, just mark me down for ten, the whole way. The plumbing, the wiring, the upholstery. Ten ten ten.”
“Fair enough.” The bald bespectacled man nodded a knowing nod. It took him a long time to fill in all of the tens. Then he said, “Alright, there’s just one final question and the survey is complete. Then we can get you settled up with the Truth.”
“Shoot.”
“If everything is a ten, why leave?”
“I have no idea. That’s why I came here. To find out. Maybe I need a few sevens.”
The bald bespectacled man made a note of it. He filed the survey into the cabinet. Then he pointed. “Just go down that hall, and you’re looking for the second door on the right. Good luck.”
3
It was a long walk through whiteness. Jim came to the second door on the right. He entered another white room, and behind another desk there was another bald and bespectacled man. Then Jim blinked, for it was the bald bespectacled man.
“Take a seat.”
“You’re the same guy,” Jim said.
“I run things around here. Go ahead, sit down.”
Jim sat. He looked at the man. He gulped. He thought, This man is kind. And I’ve seen him around a lot. He showed me to the virgin and bounced at the devil’s party.
“Are you . . .” But Jim couldn’t finish the question.
“Am I?” He was kind.
“Are you God?”
The bald bespectacled man clasped his hands upon the desk and leaned slightly forward. The white light played in his kind eyes. He said,
“My name is Leonard, and I’m from Arizona. I died of a gastrointestinal disorder in nineteen fifty-eight.”
“Oh.”
“I have two boys and a beautiful wife. I don’t get to see them
as often as I’d like, but I enjoy working. So far I’ve been fortunate enough to experience ninety different forms of employment. My goal is to someday break a thousand. My wife thinks I’m crazy. I ought to retire, you know.”
“She sounds nice.”
“I am not God.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“Are you sure that you’re ready for the Truth?”
Jim took a breath. He cracked his knuckles. He took another breath. “Alright. Yes sir. I’m ready. Hit me with it.”
“Because once you know the Truth, there’s no going back.”
“I know.”
“And you understand that you’re doing this of your own free will. You aren’t compelled in any way by an outside party.”
“Well, I can only assume that. But yeah.”
“And you understand that billions of souls are perfectly happy to be happy without the Truth.”
“Yes. Come on, you’re killing me.”
The bald bespectacled man unclasped his hands and relaxed his posture. He beheld Jim and said,
“Here is the Truth: For the last three hundred and seventy-six years, you have been existing in paradise, and paradise is kind of awesome.”
And this was all he said. He said it as if it was all that needed saying. Jim waited for more words to come, but the bald bespectacled man had finished.
“That’s not enough,” Jim said.
“I’m afraid it never is.” The man nodded his knowing nod.
“It’s not even a catch.”
“Of course it’s not. It’s the Truth.”
“What about God? The Devil? Heaven and Hell and right versus wrong? Who runs this place? Where is it? What am I doing here?”
“Well, God is God, the Devil is the Devil, and I suppose morality is somewhere in between. You run this place because it’s your paradise, and you’re in paradise because you’re dead.”
“So God exists?”
“That really depends on how you look at it.”
“Then what’s the right way to look at it?”
“There isn’t one.”
“Well why not?!”
The bald bespectacled man spread wide the palms of his hands. His face remained kind, but it was also brutally sincere. “These aren’t meaningful questions, and I can’t help you,” he said.
Jim became speechless. For those were his questions, and the kind man said they were meaningless. He thought, The catch is that there is no catch. The Truth is that there is no Truth. It’s fucking pie.
“The exit is through that door,” the bald bespectacled man said.
It was a plain door.
“What’s on the other side?”
“I have no idea.”
“What?!! This is 1 Truth Road! I’ll give you the rest of it, but that’s a door. I’ll be goddamned if you don’t know what’s on the other side of a door.”
“I never went through it.”
“Then you don’t really know the Truth.”
“I told you the Truth.”
“What about the door?”
“That’s where you leave.”
“What’s behind it?”
“I don’t have a clue.”
“Jesus Christ!”
“Still fishing.”
Jim went to the door and he threw it open. But before leaving paradise, he looked back one last time.
“At least give me this. What’s the point of this place? 1 Truth Road? It sure as hell ain’t the Truth.”
The bald bespectacled man stood. He walked to where Jim was and he put a kind hand upon Jim’s shoulder. “This just wouldn’t be paradise with you moping around,” he said.
Jim went through the door.
Book of Jim: Agnostic Parables and Dick Jokes From Lucifer's Paradise Page 12