Lucy’s World

“Jesus fucking Christ, can it get any hotter?”

Shannon wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.

Lucy just laughed from her throne. “Don’t be ridiculous—he’s upstairs with his daddy. I imagine your question was rhetorical, but I’m not into that shit.” A blast of heat flew from her fingers. “Straightforward all the way down here. Stop flapping your jaw and keep shoveling.”

Shannon glared at Lucy, who laughed again as Shannon’s hair caught fire, leaving her bald.

“Guess you don’t need time off for that appointment with Delilah after all. By the way, if it grows back, it’ll be your natural color.”

“I still need time off! You never give me break,” Shannon whined.

“Good lord, no wonder they wouldn’t let you in up there. Do you ever just suck it up? By the way, you have a new roommate.”

“But there isn’t enough space already! Khomeini and Hussein have the beds, and Goebbels never lets anyone else on the computer. Plus Imelda’s shoes take up every square inch of floor space, and she gets so pissy when I step on the Louboutins. You’re not punishing anyone else like this!”

“You silly little girl. You don’t know what punishment is. Your entire life was a series of poor choices designed to give you the life you thought you deserved. Anyway, the roommates’ lodging is their punishment, not yours. That goes double for the new one. He’ll be coming down the escalator as soon as they finish cataloging his sins, probably by November, maybe the first Tuesday.”

“You’re not sending Donald Trump down here! He can’t keep his hands to himself.”

A flaming rock fell from the ceiling, landing right in front of Shannon.

“He’s not dead yet, but you’re close. I’ve got another southerner for you this time. Maybe you and Lindsey can discuss the superiority of Edgefield peaches. God knows that talking about one is as close as you’ll ever get to tasting one again.”

A chain gang passed through in various absurd states of dress.

The walls shook, and the sulphur air became frankincense.

“Uh-oh, looks like the big boss is coming.” Lucy rose from her throne and told Shannon to set the table for chess and cocktails, adding, “Use the Simpsons chessboard. For some reason, he loves that one.”

Shannon started to complain about the metal box burning her fingers, but under Lucy’s reproachful gaze, she swallowed it and simply obeyed.

“Whaddaya know, looks like you’re capable of learning after all. Too bad this isn’t purgatory. By the way, kudos to whoever came up with that piece of fiction. You wouldn’t believe how many people in the upper circles think they can work their way out of here. I’ve got a new petition to change the name to Hotel California, but Mephistopheles is such a stickler about copyright that he denies it every damn time.”

“Who’s Mr. Stoffaclees?” Shannon’s ignorance clouded her face.

Lucy glanced at Shannon. “Spoke too soon, I guess. You really should have paid better attention in class, Baldy. I’ll get Goebbels to print another cheat sheet for you. Fuck, there aren’t that many of us, but I bet you can’t even name the guys in JC’s inner circle. Hell, you probably don’t even know all of the damn archangels’ names.”

“Michael, Matthew, Luke, and John!” Shannon retorted, sending Lucy into another fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” God suddenly appeared, dominating the room.

“This one.” Lucy waved her arm towards Shannon. “Talk about a comedy of errors. If Will were down here, he’d put her in one of his farces. You keep all the good ones for yourself.”

God chuckled as he took his seat. “Yeah, that’s kind of the whole point. Remember Job?”

“You’re never going to let that go are you? Even had the scribes write a book about it. By the way, I think the finer points of my character never made it to the page.”

“Oh, please. You should be glad to see your name in print. Next you’re going to start bitching about John’s poems again.”

“Any particular reason you’re making that plural? You know I liked the first one. And you have to admit, the second one falls flat. Too busy trying to relay a message to bother much with actual poetry. And that title? ‘Regained’? No damn wonder you snatched his eyes.”

God waved his hand and said, “And you wonder why you’re stuck with this one. Shoe doesn’t fit as well on that other . . . hoof?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let’s get business taken care of before we play.” Lucy said. “I think you’re going to like what I have planned for Senator Graham”

“Oh, really?” God picked up his empty glass. “I see you’re still in need of a decent barman.”

“You think? I can get Jim to make you a glass of his special Kool-Aid if you’re thirsty.”

God’s laughter shook the foundations. “You certainly didn’t think I would let him pour drinks upstairs? I’ll pass on the Kool-Aid, but an old fashioned would hit the spot. You can probably skip the bitters if that one stirs it with her finger.” He gestured at Shannon. “I know it’s unpleasant down here, but what’s with the permafrown?”

Shannon opened her mouth like a baby bird, and God held up a hand. “No need to answer. I already know.”

Lucy gave Shannon a level look. “See? That shit’s annoying as hell. Just fucking say what you mean. Or is more rhetoric part of my punishment? Not enough that I’m stuck down here with these losers?”

God cast his eyes down his nose at Lucy. “You have your fun. Speaking of fun, what do you have in mind for the distinguished gentleman and confirmed bachelor?”

Goebbels appeared with the divine cocktail and placed it on the table in front of the almighty, serving from the left.

God breathed deeply, then took a small sip, holding the bourbon on his tongue before swallowing.

“Sir, if you would just read my latest memoir, I think—“

“Joseph. We’ve been over this. Surely you don’t think I’ll fall for your logical fallacies. Do you see a MAGA hat on my head? ” God set his glass down with authority. “Has it ever crossed your mind that propaganda can’t help you here?” Shifting his attention back to Lucy, he said, “About Lindsey . . .”

Lucy lit up with a smile so big it almost broke her face. “Okay, I’ve decided to let him bring his little NDAs that kept his secrets safe, but here’s the kicker—every time someone goes to sign one, the whole damn thing bursts into flames.”

“Not bad. Who’s he going to bunk with?”

Lucy waved her arm towards Shannon and Goebbels. “This lot. I figure he can be Joe’s proofreader and Shannon’s stenographer, if she ever says anything worth writing down.”

God nodded and looked pointedly at the board.

Lucy moved her king’s pawn forward two spaces.

“Ah, going with the tried and true.” He advanced his king’s pawn to face Lucy’s. “Please tell me you have something else planned for Lindsey.”

“Oh, I’m going to have a mock election down here, just for fun and maybe research. Everyone who runs will lose, not that it matters. No chance of me letting anyone else sit in this captain’s chair.”

“Yeah, your OCD is why you do such a good job running things down here.” God smirked across the board. “Zeus, it’s hot down here. Glad I changed into these moisture-wicking robes before I got on the escalator.”

“Are you still using it?” Lucy opened a beer and took a sip. “Sick bastard. Do you have any idea how much it fucks with the people going up to see you going down?”

“No one ever thinks my jokes are funny, but you all laugh at the stupidest things. For the life of me, I just don’t understand the appeal of physical humor over psychological humor.” God mused as he took another sip of his drink.

“That’s because your sense of humor is so dark.”

“Yeah, well, punchlines get old fast if you don’t mix it up. What are we playing for?”

“Air conditioning”

“Again?”

“Central. A window unit isn’t exactly practical here. You know, with no windows that actually open.”