Book of Jim: Agnostic Parables and Dick Jokes From Lucifer's Paradise (13 page)

Jim rubbed his knuckles.  Then he rubbed his bloodshot eyes.  And then he rubbed his temples.  He read,

“The commercialization of the female form has normative blowback, and your male brain has been artificially rewired to appreciate only the immediate and physical aspects of a much deeper feminine glory.”

“And do you suppose, by
deeper feminine glory
, the text refers to
hotness
or
fatness
?”

“No.”

“Well then what do you suppose it refers to?”

“I don’t know.”  Jim searched his brain.  “Sense of humor.  Intelligence.  Abilities.  It’s saying I should pretend fat girls aren’t fat because they might be cool.”

“No, no,
no
!”  The horrible fat woman
whapped
his knuckles with the phallus.  “You search
beyond
the physical.  Find the woman
inside
.  It is your duty as a modern man to unlearn these perversions of sexual selection, and to accept and admire the Natural Woman.”

But Jim
had
no more patience.  For though he swam through the sacred pool of menstrual blood, climbed the bush of
centuries
, learned phallic algebra, and let a woman pay for his steak, he could
not
endure the Female Form.  He squeezed out of the kindergarten desk and stood to surrender. 

“You know what, I give up,” he said.  “I’ve got nothing against anybody, but I like what I like.  And I like the hot chick.  Because she’s hot.  If the price of being an angel is that I’ve got to like what I don’t like, just count me out.  I mean, what’s wrong with sexual selection?  And why the hell is she fat in
paradise
?  I don’t care.  Keep the wings.  And for the love of humanity show me the way out of here.”

To Jim’s surprise the horrible fat woman sighed with relief.  She dug a finger into her scalp and unzipped herself from forehead to crotch.  The fat fell to the floor.  Out of it stepped an attractive young woman who was angry and sweaty.  She was
even
the hot chick from the photograph.

“Seventeen hours?” she said.  “Really?  Seventeen fucking hours?”  She went to a closet and took up her purse, and from the purse she took out a pocket mirror.  “Ughh.  I look like a truck stop whore.”

“What’s happening?” Jim said.

“The last room is a test,” she said.  “It’s a test to see how long you can put up with our bullshit.”

“Did I pass?”

“
Pass
?”  She stuffed the fat suit into the closet.  “
Did I pass
?”  She stripped out of her unitard and was naked.  She squatted to scour the purse.  “One hour.  You only have to last for one hour.  Uhghhh!  I can never find anything in here!”

“Well, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I can’t tell you.  I lose my job if I tell you.”  She found some underwear and snapped it on.  She pulled her hair back in a scrunchie.  “I pick up one afternoon shift, and I get the wonderboy who shatters the fucking record.  That bitch Susie owes me big time.”

“So I passed.”

“You fucking passed.”

The hot chick pulled from her purse a short skirt, a tank top, a bracelet of beads, and a pair of high heels.  Then she was dressed and out the door.

“Wait!”  Jim followed her.  “Is it over?  Are you Sylvia Plath?  Am I gonna get my angel wings?”

“I’m taking you to Sylvia, wonderboy.”  She applied make-up as she marched down the cavern in heels.  “Seventeen hours.  I ran out of shit to say, like, ten hours ago.  What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jim had to walk fast to keep up.  “I thought you were fat,” he said.

5

So Jim came to the apartments of Sylvia Plath.  They were so deep in the feminist cavern that the gravity of
paradise
shifted, and everything was upside down.  Sylvia sat in a cushioned chair upon the ceiling.  She pursed her lips as she worked at a crossword puzzle.  Jim clung to the floor and looked down at her.

“You’re so deep you’re upside down,” he said.

Sylvia started to laugh, then plugged her mouth with a fist, and then she laughed anyway.  She stood and walked over to Jim.  They stood up-face to down-face. 

“Jim,” she said.

“Sylvia.”

“I heard you gave poor Ashley quite the show.”

“Ashley?  Was that the, uh, the girl in the suit?  Natural Beauty?”

“Seventeen hours.  You doubled the record, you know.”

“Doubled?”

“Doubled.”

“Sorry.”

“Most men, they just sit there, stiff as a brick, and take the punishment for as long as they can.  They
endure
.  But you, I think you tried to understand it.”

“I guess I did.  I had my doubts, though.”

“Doubts.  And what makes a man like Jim have doubts?”

“Well, when I added two rapists together, I got a hard dick and a lesbian.  That was kind of hard to swallow.”

Sylvia laughed again.  She put a soft hand on his chest.  She said, “You’re a sweet man, Jim.  A sweet man with a good heart.”  Then her smile
was
a razor, and she whispered into his ear, “I hope it’s not a secret, because it isn’t safe with me.”

She kissed him upon the cheek.  The kiss cut through his skin and entered a vein, and through the vein it found his heart and then his head.  It died there, but its warmth lingered in his face.

“Do you have the paper?” she said.  “I believe I have to sign something.  And you can go get your wings.”

Jim gave her the form.  She signed it upon his forehead and folded it neatly and tucked it into his shirt pocket. 

“And
did
you understand any of it?” she said.

“No,” Jim said.  “Not really.”

“Would you believe we prefer it that way?”

“Yes.”

Sylvia made the smile that
was
a razor, and she showed him the way out of the Bottomless Pit of Feminist Revenge.

6

The executive woman stared in amazement at the form that made official the non-misogyny of Jim.  Her thin lips wrestled her pointed nose and her eyebrows were raised high over the rims of her glasses.

“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.