In the Beginning

Where the characters make a deal

“Pint please barman. What do you want, the usual?” asked the man looking at his companion.

“Nah, Changing tastes for changing times you know. I’ll have one of those Jaegarbomb shooter thingies if you don’t mind” said the second figure. He looked around the pub and watched one of the locals losing his money at the fruit machine.

“Barman…” the first figure raised his hand waving a ten pound note around. “What do you have to do to get served in this place?” he sighed. The other figure ignored him concentrating on the fruit machine. He turned back a moment later.

“You could always….you know….”

“No, categorically no!!” interrupted the first.

“Here give me that” said the companion snatching the note. He let out a shrill whistle. “Oooiiiiii’ he said authoritatively. “A pint and a Jaegermeister per-lease” and then very sarcastically, “Thank you”.

Had the barman been paying any attention to his two customers he would have seen a very mismatched pair. One was a slim well-dressed man in his early thirties whose eyes darted around nervously clearly not at home in these surroundings. The other an older gentleman in a Hawaiian shirt and beach shorts not suited to the British winter yet he looked completely at home here. However the barman viewed his customers in much the same way as an elephant views a fly that is buzzing around his eye; a mild inconvenience that requires the occasional dismissive action until the unfortunate circumstance of their return.

The 2 men took their drinks and sat at a table in a dark corner. The corner had not been so dark when they walked over but as they approached, the light above the table dimmed to the level most often seen in a smoky pool hall.

“Do you have to do that everywhere we go?” asked the slim man his eyes darting around nervously.

“Sorry, it’s just a habit of mine. I can….” The man in the Hawaiian shirt waved a hand and nothing happened. He looked across the table, then at his hand, then the light and then back across the table.

“No, it’s fine” said the slim man. “So why did you call me here? I’m sure it wasn’t just that you missed my company. Is there a lack of good drinking partners down under?”

“Ha…bloody….ha, very funny. And of course not.” The older gentleman said looking into his drink. He lifted the glass and downed the liquid. The shot glass clinked as it slid towards his mouth. “Well, maybe a bit” he added very quickly through the glass.

‘Say that again” asked the slim man cocking his ear towards his companion.

“I need another drink” was the reply and the Hawaiian shirt got up and ambled off towards the bar. The light brightened and then dimmed again when he returned putting down a beer and a pint of whisky and the original 10 pound note.

“You are unbelievable” said the slim man taking back his note and glaring at his companion. ‘So what is going on?” he asked like a concerned parent. “I haven’t seen you buy a pint of whisky since that incident with the fire and the buggery and the brimstone. You haven’t fallen in love again have you?”

“No, it’s worse than that. I’m bored. And I don’t mean like last time where I needed a change or the time before that where I slept with What’s-his-names wife. I mean really, achingly, devastatingly, going into depression bored” he picked up the pint of whisky and downed half of it.

“Pull yourself together man. You are the Devil. Beelzebub, The prince of darkness, The scourge Himself. You can’t be depressed. Cause waves of depression to sweep the land…yes. But be depressed. You probably just need a vacation. Why don’t you take some time off and travel. Go to Pamplona, see the running of the bulls. I heard that is quite fun. God knows, trust me. I AM GOD” God said knowingly.

“No,” replied the Devil. He looked through the whisky at the bottom of the glass and for a moment it looked like a tear might slide out of his eye but it thought better of it and retreated apologetically. “No I’ve had enough” he said stubbornly.

“Try a holiday. I’m telling you, you will feel so much more positive about everything.”

‘God, why do you think I am wearing this ridiculous Hawaiian shirt and shorts in an English pub in the middle of winter? I’ve just come from being on holiday. And I don’t feel positive. In fact I feel the complete opposite. I wanted to stab every waiter in the eye with the little stick umbrella thing that floated in my drink. The same little stick umbrella thing that usually brings me so much bloody joy. “

“See exactly like normal. Why did you hold back? A good stabbing might have helped. True, you usually get other people to do the stabbing but nothing like doing it yourself eh”. God said chirpily. The Devil ignored him continuing with his previous train of thought.

“What are those sticks called anyway? And what is the point. To save the poor little drink from harmful rays from the sun. Whoever got rich selling those things? Was he one of yours or one of mine?”

“It’s called a cocktail umbrella and contrary to common belief its purpose is mainly aesthetic even though…”

“Oh shut up O Wise One” said the Devil scornfully. God looked hurt and then his eyes looked at his companion concernedly.

“You are serious? So what do you want to do?” God asked compassionately. God was good at compassion. He was also good at anger, writing prose and dancing. He had twice won the Nobel prize for literature and was nominated best dancer at the millennial Heaven and Hell masquerade party for the last 7 millennia in a row. But these other skills were of little use in the current situation. What he needed now was Compassion. He let the compassion flow from his eyes and envelop his friend.

“God, can you stop looking at me like you are in love with me. It is quite disconcerting.”

“Sorry,” said God. “I was doing compassion.”

‘Well stop it. You look ridiculous. Stick to dancing.” Silence followed. The devil stared at his half empty pint glass willing the whisky to refill itself. This is of course only in a figurative sense. If he really wanted it was a mere trifle to achieve this. But this kind of skill, much sought after in the Scottish highlands, was frowned upon in his circle as a blatant misuse of his powers. Causing the genocide of entire races, encouraging budding serial killers to develop mummy issues and introducing the evil that is coca-cola to the world is applauded. But the smaller, more meaningful enterprises, for example, bottomless whisky glasses were a no-no.

God broke the silence. “So what do you want to do?” he asked again. From somewhere nearby the chinking of coins being dispensed by a fruit machine were heard as the guy who had been losing his weeks wages suddenly won enough to buy his friends a round. The Devil raised his eyebrows at God who looked across smugly.

“Sorry I couldn’t help myself” God said sheepishly. ‘So what do you want to do?”

“God I want to quit” said the Devil.

“The Devil you will” blurted out God. “Excuse the expression” said God even more sheepishly than before. The Devil looked across at God. God stared back. Everything in the pub seemed to slow down. Being a local country pub this change of pace had precisely zero effect.

“Let’s discuss this” said God.

“What, like the last time we discussed this 1800 years ago? Do you remember what happened that time?”

“Yes I do. It was a fairly successful outcome if I remember correctly.”

“A successful outcome?” asked the Devil rhetorically. “Let’s switch sides, you said. Won’t that make things exciting, you said. All we need is a change, you said.”

“I was right. Look how much better….” God began and then stopped seeing the Devil’s glum expression. He twiddled his fingers for a moment. The moment dragged into an eternity. “It’s my round.” said God, eternity for this being was not that long after all. “Pint?” He asked. The Devil nodded his head distractedly staring into the little remaining of his whisky. 

 

 

 As the drinks disappeared down the throat of the flowery shirted King of the demons, his tongue loosened and he slurred his grievances.

“God” the devil said pointing anywhere but at God, “you’re annoying. Yesh…you. Why did you drag me into thish damn war? I never wanted thish. I used to like amoeba…” a confused look crossed his face. “I used to like humans. In fact, I do like humans. Yes they have their foibles………… But all in all they are quite nishe you know. I mean..well…they’re not actually. They’re all b******s I tell you, but I love them. And you with your shmooth talking.” And then later…

“I know we haven’t spent a lot of time together these last few centuries, but God, you’re my best f*****g mate ever. I bloody love you man.”