The Final Solution
This is the end. I’m finished! For ten thousand years I sweated and struggled to create a civilized economy in which everyone could earn my love by fighting the noble war for peace, glory, luxury, God’s love and all the necessities of life. But for doing them this favor the world repaid Me with scorn and laughter.
My critics accuse Me of many things, but I did not fail from lack of effort. On my behalf, my angels and prophets built a gigantic and intricate economy that slowly grew to span the globe. In the early stages it evolved from a few ambitious men whose descendants were chosen to rule the world! They built the first empires: superhuman bodies with their own heads, arms, and legs. For ten thousand years these bodies grew and multiplied until they began to consolidate, and then fewer and larger heads and bodies appeared until Amerika with its enormous head, right arms and waistline ruled the globe and worked to convert the remaining left-handed savages to Civilization so that all men (and women) might act in coordination and do what no man could do alone: build a peaceful world economically, climactically, literally and in all ways.
After centuries of struggle, the whole world was nicely civilized and ruled by the gentle giant, Amerika, the land of angels. But did the world appreciated this favor? The thankless world rebelled against its rightful head and intelligence. The head lost control of its foreign parts. Its ass shit on its face, its genitals refused to reproduce, its arms and legs beat it bloody, and individual cells tormented everyone, Me included, with nagging complaints about injustice, environmental suicide and missing buttons. Finally, all the parts claimed to have minds of their own and there was such confusion and chaos that the whole body reeled and writhed in pain and wrath.
Then the desertions started. Millions renounced civilization and joined my ex-wife in her evil Gardens of Love. Military efforts to reason with them were received with humiliating laugher.
At last, I became nostalgic, for I might be God but I also have feelings! Oh, how I longed for the days when my wife and children loved Me and loved Me more than life! But I was stuck in the present! My time machine was a piece of crap.
Somehow, in a moment of idleness, a great plan magically emerged. Full of renewed hope, I tried to communicate my latest plant to President C. Bollocks, but he just covered his ears and sang, “God doesn’t exist and hearing his voice only proves I’m crazy!”
So, I communicated my plan to him in a dream set Chuck’s childhood. The whole plot involved him listening to his primary school principal reveal his new destiny to him.
“Chuckie, I have an important job for you. Are you ready to scrub the toilets again?”
“What about the metaphorical toilet? The toilet of civilization? Do you know what I mean?”
“Listen to me, you numbskull! I created this planet for my amusement, but after a few million years I grew bored of watching dumb animals. Then, in a stroke of genius, I redeemed everything by creating two-legged rabbits who take orders. I commanded them to be civilized, to work and to amuse me by earning my love, so they worked their butts off, but their work destroyed the planet and was really extremely boring to watch. I mean, do you know how much time they’ll need to destroy the planet?”
“Of course you don’t, you numbskull. Now you’re probably wondering why I didn’t stop them from destroying the planet. Well, I’ll tell you my most secret and grandest plan. For all these centuries, I helped you destroy your health and your environment because I thought that if you destroyed the material world you would finally appreciate the spiritual world and learn to love Me for my leadership skills more than you love all your material wealth, your bodies included. That was my hope, and this hope would have borne fruit if the goddamn Devil had not persuaded everyone to save ‘Mother Nature’s’ sinking body!”
“Oh, God, please accept my apology on behalf of all the children who listened to Satan. I know we are dirt-bags. My teacher said so.”
“You’re worse than dirt-bags! You are all leaky sacks of stinking compost!”
“God, please watch your blood press–”
“Damn my blood pressure! Behold, I am the soul of souls, the source of pure love, but you and your kind never earned it! You worked for luv, not for God and Heaven, and you did not even earn your luv. You made machines and slaves do your earning and working. What’s worse, you were too eager to trade your spiritual luv for material junk like homes and albums, and for services that made your sick and ugly bodies feel or look better. Thus you abused the gifts I gave you, and therefore the civilized economy will be terminated. You will go back to the caves and jungles from which I raised you, for you do not deserve governments working to provide your water, energy, heat, roads, security and education! And you do not deserve a million highly specialized businesses providing you with state-of-the-art roller coasters, candy bars and toilet paper! Do you understand?”
“Yes. But, by terminating civilization aren’t you helping Satan and playing into her hands?”
“Uh, no, that’s not right, I mean, yeah, well … bah! So what? So what if Satan and I want to condemn everyone Hell?! That’s mere coincidence! Enough of your annoying analyses! You have an assignment, call it a job, if you like. You shall work to clean my palace, my house, my planet! Erase every trace of civilization from the blackboard of the world! You shall begin with North Amerika. Remove the whores, the thugs, the thieves, the sick and ugly—in short, everyone! I want the northern half completely emptied of humans and restored to its original beauty by Christmas morning! Class dismissed!”
The president woke with a jolt, looked groggily at the ruins of Washington and remembered nothing of his dream. So the next night I repeated the dream in slightly higher resolution. This time the president thought it was a joke, so I sent the dream a third time.
“Fine!” Chuckie groaned on the third morning. “I get it. You’re upset because no one loves you or your works. Well, I don’t care! You can flush your own toilet!”
“Don’t be so immature. If don’t obey Me, I’ll plague you with lice and a burning butt rash.”
The president stopped arguing and got to work creating the North Amerikan Naturalization Organization (NANO). Then, at his command, NANO office issued the following public service announcement:
Why do you allow your hearts to freeze? Do you think life will last longer if you live in a refrigerator and eat the flesh of your children? Life can be so much better, and now a better life can be yours if you accept your government’s offer of a lifelong vacation in a land where love for one another is the only temperature. Visit your local government office and receive a free train ticket today.
Again, this was an amazing advertisement, and yet, for some reason, no one was interested in anything but asking questions, and when rumors spread that the government was plotting to ship everyone north of the border to Mexico, most said they would rather warm their homes with nuclear explosions than live among the living dead in Satan’s favorite playground.
During an emergency NANO meeting, Chairman and President C. Bollocks dozed off. All present waited patiently until he woke with a divinely inspired plan. His eyes bulged, his mouth gaped: he had a brilliant plan for evacuating the better part of North America.
“I’ve got it!” he shouted. “Public transportation! We will build an irresistible choochoo train! A super-awesome choochoo train! A choochoo train that will make travelling so much fun-fun-fun that no one will think twice about going to Mexico, or, for that matter, to any other Hell on Earth!”
The president’s psychologists declared him mad.
“Me, mad?” he repeated incredulously. “But why shouldn’t God’s plan be fun?” he demanded. “And it could be fun. You could all have supporting roles on board my train, if you want, while I play the leading role of the celebrated Captain Herewego. And, just for fun, let’s name our train … let me think … Big Dreamy Train! … Yeah, that’s irresistible. The Big Dreamy will deliver all its passengers to God’s favorite vacation resort, to sexy and beautiful Mexico! Yankee Doodle Yahoo!”
The first choochoo train was a low budget, environmentally friendly train. It had no mechanical or material parts and was constructed entirely of giant sloths, giant beavers, giant tortoises and medium-sized mammoths, all of which were already extinct outside of the imagination, but their spirits lived on in the spiritual world deep inside the human imagination. These slow moving, deceptively bulky creatures were trained to carry thousands of passengers south, towards the Mexican border. Since they did not respond to rewards and maps, they were trained with spears, stones, and torches. Their trainers jogged after them in the four cardinal directions, with one group going north towards the Bering Strait, beyond which they could have discovered Asia, Europe and Africa, but they didn’t, mostly because they grew so hungry and impatient they turned their train into barbecue meat.
Among variously amusing fiascos occurred the famous episode involving Captain Herewego’s encounter with a few illiterate Amerikan patriots living in the Stoned Age, literally holed up in Mount Rushmore’s sculpted heads. The good captain and his dreamy megafauna train first arrived at the north-west face of President Jefferson’s face. At the time, Bro Zacharin was sitting on George Washington’s nose surveying the land for large, juicy animals to eat. When he imagined Herewego with his engineer, conductors and other officers chasing megafauna towards him, he cried out, “Hurrah! THE DELIVERY MAN IS HERE!”
Captain Herewego called back, “Good morning, Bro! I come to you from the other side of death! The creatures you see are not for eating. They are angelic spirits from Heaven and if you follow them, they will take you and all your friends to Heaven.”
“Heaven? Never heard of it. Is the hunting good there?”
“That depends. Can you catch a flying coconut?”
“That depends. If they’re like most waterfowl, I’ll be able to sneak up along the shore and whack or wrestle them to death.”
The captain laughed, “That’s more exertion than anyone needs in Heaven. Food is plentiful there, and Heaven’s food never puts up a fight and is slower than turtles. You could catch almost any specimen just by sitting under a tree.”
Zach was stunned. “How’s that possible?”
“Well, most of our food is one-legged, so mobility is limited.”
Zach was dazed. Heaven sounded like a land of miracles. He clambered into the main cave and told his gang of Doom’s Day survivalists that a train of animals had come to lead them to the happiest hunting grounds. Almost everyone believed, so seats on the train were quickly filled.
While poor Zacharin waited for the next train, Captain Herewego conducted the Big Dreamy across prairies and rivers. Whenever they craved meat, their Captain reminded them that their beasts were their spiritual leaders and had no material bodies. Sadly, all his warnings went ignored. The hungry men attacked the imaginary beasts, and even though they wrestled with the wind and speared thin air, afterwards they sat down and feasted on imaginary meat.
When Captain Herewego noticed the missing beasts, he immediately scolded his officers and passengers: “You idiots! You’re eating our train! Now, how shall we ever reach Heaven? Your stupidity is only exceeded by your stupid ancestors, the ones who killed all the animals they loved to eat so that none were left for tomorrow! Now I have only one thing to say to you: Goodbye!”
The men begged the Captain not to abandon them. They promised to repent, but Captain Herewego left them behind to fight for their lives in a forest inhabited by witches.
Weeks later, Captain Herewego returned to Mount Rushmore sporting a cowboy hat, a bronze gun and two goats tied side-by-side. His junior and deputy cowboys were similarly dressed in the classic western attire, but they rode horses, sheep, pigs, cows, camels and even chickens. When they reached Mount Olympus, Bro Zacharin nearly fell off Washington’s nose laughing at the small creatures. But when he saw how timid the creatures were he fetched his spear and called his buddies.
They came a whooping and bellowing and would have slaughtered the whole flocking herd if Captain Herewego had not fired his gun into the air. He couldn’t kill a sausage, but the sound was terrifying, and he bluffed well: “Bro, don’t blow your second chance. These creatures are not for eating. They were George Washington’s pets and they’ll carry us to Heaven if we’re nice to them.”
“Pets? Your pets look like pests,” Zacharin punned as the captain’s goats munched his coat sleeve.
The captain, unaware of the mischief being committed by the coat-eating goats, extended a friendly invitation, “If you and your friends feel like going to Heaven, hop on, Bro!”
“How come we haven’t heard a word from the hundreds who left with you the first time?”
“Well, no one in Heaven ever does. The distance is too great, and there’s no mail service and no phones.”
“I see. And where exactly is Heaven?”
“Wow, that ain’t far! Say, they got restaurants there?”
Captain Herewego knew that if he told the truth, the fools would never come,” so he said, “No they don’t. You fool, Meghico is a restaurant! Immigrate to Meghico and you’ll eat free burgermeisters forever!”
“Yum-yum! But won’t we miss our caves and our big bonfires and the thrill of the hunt?”
The captain sighed, “Listen, I’m not forcing you to leave. Maybe you like defending your caves from one-eyed bears, heavily-armed beasts with iron hooves and giant flying blood suckers. And maybe you like travelling many miles for food and water. But, just so you know, in Heaven food falls from the sky and sometimes, if you’re not careful, beautiful women enter your home uninvited.”
After this excellent sales pitch. Instantly, Zach’s bravest friends mounted the animal train and ran off in all directions. Still, a nagging fear restrained Zach. Perhaps he was shy about riding a pretty cow, or maybe he’d heard bad stories about Mexico. I don’t know. But I do know that he missed out on an amazing journey.
Initially, progress was slow. The scenic Amerikan wilderness was very dense in those days, so the various animals had to cut a path through the forests with axes and teeth. Many lost their lives to stealthy predators, and the herd shrank so much that Captain Herewego struck camp and let the depleted herds graze and reproduce. When his beasts were tired of eating and giving birth, God reminded the Captain of their common destiny, so the journey continued until the herds were again depleted and the caravan struck camp again.
Due to the slowness of this process, the travelers grew old and lost patience with their animals and the journey. They imagined their Mexican Heaven everywhere, so when they reached Death Valley on a dozen horses, they mistook the land for Mexico, embraced it and burst into tears as a cruel and insensitive local said, “Welcome to Hell, my friends! Here we drink recycled piss and everyone hunts and eats insects with cacti needles. And, in case you’re wondering about my color, Hell’s scorching orb turns everyone black here.”
Enraged at having been so horribly misled, the Big Dreamy’s passengers looked for Captain Herewego and saw his silhouette riding off into the sunset with all their horses.
By the grace of God, whose schemes are inscrutable, Captain Herewego profited enormously from the first two expeditions and was able to purchase hundreds of waggons, carriages, chariots and wheelbarrows. His plan was to use them to go up to Mount Olympus (formerly Mount Rushmore) in the next expedition because God had told him wheeled vehicles would accelerate the journey to Heaven, at least over the downhill passages. And even though a plague of fatal crashes plagued the journey, God was right.
Two other changes are worth noting: this time the Captain’s officers were short, underfed slaves and the captain was dressed in a stunning jacket, pants, boots, toque and riding gloves all patched together from red silk and white furs.
When Bro Zacharin saw the wheeled and wondrous caravan approaching, he rejoiced from Roosevelt’s ear, “Luckily we came back home in time for Santa Claus. I sure hope he has cookies and milk. I’m famished.”
Captain Herewego boomed from his waggon, “Ola, Senor Zacharin! For being a good boy, you have earned a free trip to Meghico, aka Paraiso, where magic trees bear gifts for all in summer, spring, winter and fall. Look, I’ve smuggled a few goodies out for you!”
Zacharin shimmied down and sampled some of the guavas, mameys, mangosteens, rambutans, paternas, carambolas, xoconostles and other illegal drugs that would tempt the patriots out of Amerika. Of course, Zacharin’s mind was blown by the amazing gifts brought to him by Captain Herewego, so he staggered back into Lincoln’s gaping mouth to tell his friends the good news. However, he did not return. Instead, Vice Doofus Broke emerged and raged, “You’re a damn drug smuggler from Hell! Go away! I know about your Mexico! It’s full atheists, anarchists and potheads!”
Captain Herewego laughed, “You’re read too much propaganda! Meghicans live in pots and do not have pots for heads. And the only reason Meghico has no churches and government offices is that Meghicans know that in their land God is everywhere, even in the gringos. That’s also why they outlawed bosses, politicians, and police officers. Now tell me, does that sound like Hell or Heaven to you?”
Doofus scratched his head confusedly before he made up his mind, jumped into Jefferson’s smoking mouth and shouted, “IT’S TRUE! Santa Claus WANTS to TAKE US TO HEAVEN!”
Thousands of rugged, hungry cavemen stumbled out of Mount Olympus. Only some evil women, Zach and Olyshit remained. When asked why he was staying, Olyshit laughed, chopped a log of pine in half, cast it onto a fire and swore, “I can see through their games! Santa is Satan in disguise! The Kingdom of God is right here, with George Washinroom, Abe Lickum, Teddy Whosefault and Tommy Jesterson!”
Captain Herewego heard every word booming from the mouths of the four founding fathers. Then, filled with sadness, he turned his waggon around and sighed, “Well, adios, tonto y amigo.”
Captain Herewego and his train departed in a cloud of blinding dust while Zach curled up beside the fire in his cave.
In the morning, Zach discovered a mysterious gift neatly arranged beside the smoldering fire pit. It was a page torn out of a captain’s log and tied to a branch. It was marked with thirty symbols, including a circle of gold. Apparently, Santa had given him a treasure map! Zach was elated!! He whooped so loud he gave the mountain headaches. His excitement (and naivety) were infectious. Hundreds of his fellow idiots joined him on an exciting, adventure-filled journey that lead them to the fulfillment of their dreams: an overgrown, rat infested, rusty old Disneyland. They loved it so much, they pedaled a fleet of tricycles straight back to Mount Olympus.
Captain Herewego was luckier, or smarter. He and his followers struggled through Amerika’s wastelands, places where even coyotes and crows neither hunted nor gathered. But the good Captain had come prepared with plows and seeds and a clever survival scheme that I shall now reveal. As the caravan meandered ahead, the animals in front ploughed the dusty ground open and the men on the waggons and chariots behind sowed bags of oats, sperum, and other grains on the open ground. Weeks later, the men would retrace their tracks to find fields of mature crops. Then they harvested, built mills to turn their crops into dust, built ovens to put crusts on their dust, and feasted until they felt ready to resume their journey over the dust.
Needless to say, this third Big Dreamy never reached Mexico, even though the borders did move a little, especially after some Mexican thieves forced Captain Herewego to give them California and six other desert states.
The final expedition used a space-age locomotive made of candy, ice cream, wrapping paper, chewing gum, wattle and daub and edible bicycle inner tubes. The engine was powered by a special concoction of bubbly pop and prayer wheels, and the smokestack was carefully calibrated to blast popular music, lyrics included. In short, this last revolutionary choochoo train, which happened to be the work of Sugar Daddy, the Department of Transportation’s last engineer, an unrefined genius who worked strictly with 3D tools and printers …
The revolutionary choochoo train arrived at the deathly silent Mount Olympus. Captain Herewego offered one more chance to go to Heaven for free. This time Zacharin asked if the Big Dreamy locomotive was environmentally friendly.
Captain Herewego was about out of patience, but answered, “Does my poop stink?”
Zacharin tried to remember.
“It’s a rhetorical question!” Herewego roared. “Bro, this locomotive runs on cannabis oil! It makes love to Mother Nature. Wherever we go, birds fall silent, the trees bow and the air and mountains rumble in delight.”
“But is it passenger friendly? Does it serve snacks?”
“Does it—this train is a snack! The seats are made of licorice stuffed with marshmallows filled with tequila. The windows are made of sugar, the wheels are lollipops, the smoke billowing from the smokestack is pure cotton candy, and everyone on board is made of gingerbread, angel cake, and meat marinated in wine.”
“Wow! Wait, something doesn’t seem right.”
“Oh you of little faith! This train is the legendary Big Dreamy! In record time, well, unless you eat the important parts, it will take us out of Amerika and straight to a paradise in the sky! Oh, before I forget, along the way we’ll stop to refuel in Meghico.”
This news was met with cheers. Zach and friends hopped on board and enjoyed a rip-roaring journey as the Big Dreamy stopped for fuel and repairs at candy shops, ice cream parlors, fast food restaurants, grocery stores and, of course, dentists and hospitals. After ten years, they finally reached the Mexican border. A cruel neon sign on the entry gate greeted the obese and tired passengers with the following, “HAHAHAHAHAHA!”
A gargoyle perched on top of the gate hurled fruit at the visitors and shouted, “Bienvenido al utopia Amerikano! Here all men and women are equals and all enjoy lawless freedom! Welcome! Welcome all! Welcome, children too, for here you will study your parents’ naughty behavior! Hahahaha! Welcome, damned and doomed! Here, everyone is unemployed and no one has any money! Hahahahaha! Now, gringos, pass through the gate, but only with your own power! Horses, hulls, wheels, wings, canes, strollers, prosthetic devices, angels, and clothes are no permitido in the land of the scorching Eye of Satan! Enjoy the sweat and love the burn! Hahahaha!”
Hearing these mockeries, Zach and many more passengers tried to buy tickets back to Amerika, but the gargoyle shrieked that Amerika no longer existed. So, they demanded a word with their captain. They found him and his crew at the animal cars, shooting all the elephants, sheep, cows, lions, cobras, rabbits, dogs and so on.
Zach glowered at Captain Herewego. “You said we would be making a brief stop in Mexico!”
The captain apologized for the melting of his train and added, “Cheer up! Meghico is Heaven. That clown on the gate is just trying to scare us away because he wants Heaven all to himself. Even a century ago Meghico was Amerika’s favorite vacation spot, and unless my sources deceived me, recent renovations are bound to impress you.”
Zach and the mob looked across the border. “Impress us? That? That place looks like Satan’s farm!”
“To the ignorant, my ass looks like the moon and every vagina is a door to Hell,” he said, smiling ironically.
So, the muttonheads decided to risk it. They walked, limped and crawled after him, into the strange land where nothing is right, a world of giant squash, hallucinogenic lettuce and ginger, multicolored tomatoes and trees so heavy with fruit they stand on crutches! A world where everyone was nothing but a body, a mouth and genitals, a brain and feet, and so on. Everyone was condemned to sleep on the dirt and to suffer the sight and sound of their neighbors acting like animals. Children ran around like stray dogs, and everyone forgot religion and worshipped a puzzle, played flutes with their asses and spent hours killing their souls by reading utterly incomprehensible gobbledygook.
That was Hell. They should have guessed something so obvious. But Hell was their destiny, and once they entered Hell, each Amerikan sinner was captured by Mexican devils and carried to filthy villages and stuffed like turkeys with filthy fruit, uncooked leaves, strange roots, raw nuts and bitter herbs. Afterwards, the devils tortured them by blowing up their genitals until they tore the winds with their vocal chords.
My plan was finally accomplished. Thanks to Captain Herewego and the Big Dreamy staff, Amerika was clean again. Unfortunately, I paid a big price for this victory, for as God I must always know everything, including everything that happens in Hell. I cannot turn my omniscient mind off. Of course, seeing and hearing villains and fools suffer can be satisfying, but after a few days it loses its taste … unless one beautifies it, that is, unless one turns it into a movie.
An Infernal Comedy
Every day, Hell’s demons stuffed his face with filth, played games with his privates, fucked with his mind and generally abused him. When he finally escaped from their clutches, he stumbled upon a place reserved for whores and stepped on his mother’s head. Well, after all, it was Hell, so he wasn’t entirely surprised to find her up to her neck in her garden. Flies buzzed around her painted mouth. Her rotting tongue was oozing puss. Pretending indifference, he struck a lighthearted conversation.
“Hey, Mother Nature. Long time no see. Having flies for lunch?”
“Better I eat them than they eat me.”
“Yes. And they’re a better source of protein than you are.”
“Indeed, they are, Chuckles. Hell is good for our health. You certainly look decades younger than when you first entered.”
“Thanks. Say, how’s Dad?”
“You know, Damn, the guy partly to blame for creating me.”
“Jesus, many people were involved in making you. And my life was full of Damns and most of them were alike: all buzz and no sting.”
He laughed while she chewed on a fly.
“Is he still being a clown?”
“When you became president of the world he roared, ‘Ricky-Dicky is president! Ricky, Dickie, Ricky-Dicky-Dick!’ Then he died from laughing too hard.”
“Serves him right! He never could remember my name. Hey, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you in this part of Hell? Is it reserved for the millions of women who refused to sleep with God?”
She guffawed. “I used to sleep with almost any man, and I gave God a fair chance, but every time I got his mast up and his sails full of wind, well, he’d start calling himself a damned hypocrite and worrying that he’d have to condemn himself to Hell for not marrying me first. It was a pitiful circus of lust and guilt.”
“It sounds hilarious.”
“It was. Well, I suppose you’ve stopped praying to him?”
“Of course. Now I only pray for him.”
“That’s very thoughtful. You’re probably the most thoughtful person I’ve ever known. Hey, I’ve been thinking about all those world wars. You lost them intentionally, didn’t you?”
“Good. I always knew I could trust you to do the right thing. So what if you’re not in Heaven now? You wouldn’t have liked it anyway. Goodnight, lover of the Earth and man of many names!”
Before Chuck could ask her where he could find his sister, she closed her eyes and moaned as if demons in the soil were tickling her thighs or making love to her. Then, like a hideous blossom, her mouth opened one more time to speak: “Chuck, before you go, please give me a kiss like I taught you!”
God shrieked, “Don’t you dare! No! Not your own mother! You’ll go to Hell if you give her pleasure!!”
But Chuck didn’t hear holy voices any longer; besides, he thought, I’m already in Hell, aren’t I? That was true. Damn it!
Another Original Sin
After leaving his mother in her part of Hell, Chuck recognized the sound of his half-sister’s voice singing in pain. As he soon discovered, her vagina was on fire from a lifetime of sinning. Chuck foolishly took pity on her and blew and blew and blew the fire until he was blue in the face. Then he tried to snuff the flames out with his fingers, but that only increased the intensity of the flame.
The demon screamed, “Chuck, I’m burning up! I’m hot, hot, hot, hot and sizzling hot! I’m in Hell’s heat and now I’m on fire!—and it’s all your fault!”
Chuck stood uncomfortably, not knowing what to do.
“What happened to your luv?” the demon teased. “Didn’t it survive your meteoric career and your 10,000 wives? Can’t you do anything to put out my fire?”
“I’ll see if I can find some dew or a leaf of aloe vera.”
He turned and nearly escaped the devil’s clutches, but he was too slow. The immoral serpent wrapped herself around him and whispered, teasingly, “Oh, Chuckie. Look at you! Being president of the world turned you into a little mouse. But don’t worry. A little genital heat will give you strength and youth.”
Her wickedness was overwhelming. Chuck’s resistance faltered. His legs weakened, buckled, and as he kneeled helplessly the whore continued, “So tell me, Chuckie, do you remember my first name?”
“You mean Mad-is-daughter.”
“How about medicine?” he asked, stupidly flattering her.
“That’s cute,” she laughed. “So tell me, what’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I helped the Church, saved foreigners, cured the Jews, saved Africa, liberated the Arabs and, as the messiah I chased rabid dogs out of Amerika. I guess God expects too much. What about you? How did you disappoint him?”
“I think I committed just a fe-e-e-e-w too many sins,” was her shameless understatement. Then, grinning, she began listing her sins: “I pissed on God’s Constitution and I did not invest in a wedding, believe in the media or submit to doctors, public schools, middle age sexlessness, corporate servitude, and enslavement to banks and governments. I guess I was quite an economic terrorist.”
“And yet, you raised two kids?”
“Well, I had plenty of help from friends. They still live with me, but Zeus has quite a career planting bananas and Aphrodite makes giant clay pots for homeless people. What about you? Why did you quit that popular reality show? What was it called … Chuck Saves the World!?” she asked, holding him tighter and stroking his grey hair.
“After I burned the script and told the director the plot was a bad joke wrapped in bullshit, I guess I just lost interest,” he lied.
“I think you deserve some kind of reward for that,” she said, squeezing his hand and pursuing an infinitely sinful idea. “Chuckie, how long has it been since you made love, real love?”
“Does making love to God count?” he asked, blushing.
“Not in my book. And all those wives, and you’re still a virgin. Chuck, let me complete you. Let’s make love!”
“Sweet sister! That’s incest!”
“But, isn’t incest a sin?”
The devil lied smiling, “A sin? No-o-o. Incest is only a sin if it isn’t preceded by consent or if it results in conception, so we have nothing to worry about. I haven’t ovulated for many years, and I think Mom taught you how to avoid conception. Do you remember?”
He couldn’t believe his ears. His conscience screamed that it was wrong to love his sister more than spiritually, actually, physically. But he was weak and the Devil was a powerful serpent wrapping itself around him. I told him to pray for help, but his wanton little serpent hardened and before he could defend himself the demon devoured his soul.
I tried not to listen as the horrible singing began!
Afterwards, I begged Chuck to follow me out of Hell, but he dumped Me like a bad disease and cruelly joked: “From now on, my name is ‘Fuck.’”
I wanted to tear out my eyes and ears, but I couldn’t, for I don’t have eyes and ear. Don’t laugh! You filthy bookworm, what do you know about the challenges of being God?!
 By “spiritual luv” the author means digital and symbolical luv—basically “money.”