Surrogate Episode VII

Kiddies, this is NSFW.  There is no way it’s not.  Language, sacrilege, unpleasant attitudes toward certain vermin.  If you can’t deal with it, you have no business here.

“Surrogate” episodes started in 2009 as a bit of irreverent humor to lighten the load carried by a young friend cursed with a cancer.  At least, I’d hoped to momentarily distract him from his struggle. 

Irreverent?  Yes.  My protagonist engages in conversation with God, a God he has been himself disappointed in, nonetheless petitioning for divine intervention for his friend, who oddly is also struggling against a cancer.

Lest you worry, my young friend today is in remission, has been for some time.  He has won significant normalcy and already now ten years of good health with promise of a full life remaining.

We pick up with episode VII as I’ve not time yet to appropriately edit the preceding episodes.

Surrogate Episode VII

Original July 15, 2009

“You know what this is?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“You don’t know?”

“I do.  Do you?”

“It’s a dead chipmunk.”

“Yes.  A dead chipmunk. You killed it. “

“Yes, I did.”

“You admit it?”

“Yes.  Would I lie to you?”

“Some try.”

“Some have not felt your breath on their necks.”

“What good is a dead chipmunk?”

“Infinitely more than a live chipmunk.”

“Do you have any idea…”

“Don’t start that ‘all creatures’ crap with me today.”

“If I didn’t find you amusing…”

“I’d be dead.”

“Well, or worse.”

“Like the chipmunk.”

“Yes.  Good example.  A strange stretch, but a good example.”

“Yes, an excellent example.  Stay with me here.  I entertain you – you find me ‘amusing’?”

Yes.  I’ve given that.”

“I serve a worthwhile purpose?  To you?  For you?”

You’re going somewhere with this?”

“Um-hm.  If I wasn’t amusing, if I was in fact detrimental to your purposes, you’d…”

“Squash you like a bug!”

“Or like a damned chipmunk, that digs holes under the pad for my air-conditioner, chews up my tomatoes, drills tunnels alongside the foundation of my house?”

“It’s a defenseless animal!”

“Defenseless perhaps, but harmless, no.  There’s a whole forest not seventy yards from the house.  More food there than here.”

“And foxes, and hawks, and snakes.”

“The foxes don’t bother me.  I’ll get to the snakes, but they can stay until I get all the chipmunks.  And rabbits.  Then the snakes will have sense enough to leave.  Snake’s brain bigger than a chipmunk’s?”

“But the chipmunk feels safe from foxes and hawks near your house.

“Not safe from me.  Little bastards.  I’m gonna get every damned one of’m.  Five so far.”

“Five!?”

“You betcha.  And four rabbits.”

“Thumper?  Four little Thumpers?”

“Three little ones and one big one.  Little bastards won’t eat grass, they want to eat green beans and lettuce and tomatoes.”

“Aw, man!  “

“Your rules.  Dominion over the heavens… “

“Me.”

“Dominion over the earth…”

“Adam ‘til the apple thing.  Well that’s how it got written down, you want to hear the real story?”

“No.  Well, yes, maybe later.  After Adam, Lucifer, and he’s made it quite a bit of hell, with all the itches and grotesque disfigurations, festering, puss-oozing boils, and diseases, and ‘all creatures’ no longer to your purpose but pitted one against the other.”

“Point?”

“It’s ugly and it hurts and anything I can do to alleviate pain, make it easier for me, I’ll do it.”

“Killing chipmunks?”

“Yup.”

“And rabbits?”

“When I can.”

“And what else?”

“Whatever I can.”

“For mankind?”

“I used to.  Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Most of my ‘fellow’ men rate somewhere below your dead chipmunk.”

“  !  ”

“      ”

“You don’t mean that?”

“I do.”

“You’d do’m in?”

“Most of them no.  Not worth the trouble.  Some, yes.”

“But you haven’t.  Why not?”

“Mankind has rules and mankind is a lot swifter with punishment than you.”

“Swifter, maybe but not more terrible.”

“Dead is dead.  We, we being mankind, can’t see beyond death.”

“But the punishments are – you’ll have to excuse me – awesome!”

“So give a sneak peek.”

“What?”

“Whatever Moses or Mohammed or Buddah, or Vishnu or the jerk in Utah wrote down ain’t getting the job done.  We don’t believe in hell.  Some idiot, also a man, you’ve noticed I wonder, I have, postulates from the pulpit and it’s all just showmanship.  And even Aunt Bea knows it.”

“But hell is terrible!”

“So is Ebola.  AIDS.  Poverty.  Greed.  Cancer.  Reality television.  You can’t expect us to believe you can do worse than that in hell?  We’ve got hell here.  It’s a tough act to follow.”

“But hell is forever!”

“Prove it.”

“Oh.  Reality television.  Slipped that in there.  Humor?”

“Humor.”

“So I have to open the window and let mankind see what hell is all about?”

“Well, that or let him understand eternity.  Then hell, hell forever, might be scary.”

“I’ll think on it.”

“Can’t just let one man know it and expect him to tell everyone else.”

“Trust?”

“Trust.  Or lack of trust.  Or trust that every man has lied, is lying and will lie for his own good or gain or advantage or whatever.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a cynic?”

“Cynic.  Asshole.  Son-ova-bitch.”

“You’re not, really.”

“Yeah, I probably am.”

“Gonna stop killing chipmunks?”

“You gonna send’m to the woods?”

“No. “

“Free will for chipmunks.”

“You’ll pay.  There’ll be an accounting.”

“Now.  Later.”

“Later is forever.  Rabbits?”

“Woods?”

“Tough case.”

“Tell you what.  Put the hawks on overtime.  Have the hawks and foxes do their job, then…”

“Nice try, but there’s a balance.  Some of the chipmunks and rabbits and squirrels and…”

“Squirrels!  I forgot the damned squirrels!”

“I knew, but chipmunks and rabbits made my case.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did.  You just don’t realize it yet.”

“I need the ‘peek’ into ‘eternity,’ otherwise…”

“Gotta go.  Bunch of bellyaching in Alaska about early snow.  We’ll have to pick this up later.  You’re almost as far off here as you are about this sex thing.”

“Unh. You really have my attention now.  What about sex?”

“     ”

“Not now, I have some real questions here. “

“     ”

“Hey.  Just a hairy minute!  Wanna trade for the chipmunks?”

“     ”

“Chipmunks and the rabbits?”

“     ”

“Fuck.”

© S P Wilcenski 2009

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