This is for me and my friends' writing group, I'm not used to writing fiction. The subject was ¨Spirituality¨. Whatever.
Three figures are shrouded in whispy, white smoke. It's impossible to ascertain from which of the three silouhetted figures a thin voice cuts the silence.
¨Jacob McDonald, you stand before us in this cosmic microsecond to realize your Eternal Destiny.¨
A small, thin man, balding, lifts his gaze from his toes to the direction of the speaker. ¨What's goin on?', he stammers as he looks around at what appears to him to be the interior of a magnificent igloo that's been constructed of cotton balls. Or clouds. Probably clouds. A heavy fog rolls at his feet, about shin deep. When he thinks about it, Jake can't remember ever standing on so soft a surface. It's as if he were levitating.
¨Excuse me?!!!¨, a deeper and more resonant, more authoritative voice booms.
¨I said what's happening? Where the heck am I?¨, Jacob Mc Donald asks in an awe-struck voice. ¨Am I where I think I am? What happened?¨
¨If you feel that you stand before the door to eternal bliss, then you are correct¨, a third voice responds, this the voice of a kindly, motherly woman. The voice continues. ¨It appears that you have lived your life as an ignorant coward¨, the voice sounds in a disapproving tone. ¨Is there any debate to be made on your behalf?¨
Jake looks into the fog bravely, though it is clearly written upon his face that he's terribly afraid. He's distantly distracted by the near-wieghtlessness that standing in the warm carpet of fog provides.
The second voice, heavy and somehow simultaneously threatening and soothing rings in Jacob McDonald's brain. ¨You have nothing to fear, sir. Nothing at all. Provided you've met the criteria for passage into the Realm of Truth. If not...¨" the voice trails off, leaving Jake for a few secnds to chew the possibilities in his mind.
Within seconds, the gentle female voice rings in. ¨If we find you truly guilty of purposefully shielding your mind from isness then you will have to retire through the basment door.¨
This statement provokes Jake to glance to his left where he suddenly notices an iron door behind one of the silhouettes. The door is clean and white. It gives one the impression of the door to the obstetrician's table. Or to that of a morgue. It's one flaw is that the exit sign hanging over it seems to need the lightbulb replaced. It flickers. Jake's remotely surprised that he hasn't noticed the door before now.
The first voice, a bit nasal and detached, almost bored, interrupts Jake's interest in the newly-discovered door. ¨Mr. McDonald, it appears by my records that you have not lived your life in accordance with The Way of Eternal Truth. The penalty for this is to spend eternity in the Basement.¨
Jake can't help but let his eyes dart quickly to the white door with the broken sign and then back again to the trio of black, humanoid shapes that seem as if they had been enveloped in fog since God had first created such an element.
¨Forgive me, your… your honors¨, Jacob McDonald manages to blurt in a cowed voice. ¨B-but I can't see where I've broken any rules¨. He clears his throat and throws back his shoulders just enough to gain dignity without appearing defiant. He attempts to make eye contact with the figure in the center, the tallest of the three that he assumes to be the leader of the judgement panel. ¨I've lived a proper life¨, he declares, a little more loudly and with a measure of confidence and conviction.
¨How so?¨, the woman's voice asks, not unpleasantly but with a hint of accusation.
¨Ma'am¨, Jake begins.
¨Please address the entire panel, Mr. McDonald!¨, the deep voice thunders abruptly.
¨I apologize, sir...¨
¨MR. McDONALD!!!¨, the voice erupts. ¨I will NOT instruct you again!!! Do NOT address the panel as individuals. Please.¨ The voice quiets once again to a calm, almost fatherly volume. ¨Explain yourself.¨
Jake whimpers meekly, ¨I'm sorry Mr…. I mean, your honors.¨ He glances at the white door again. The EXIT sign above it is now blinking faster and arrhythmically. ¨But I can't see what I've done to upset you. I've followed the Bible as it is the Word of God. As it is.¨
With this, Jake draws himself up and looks toward the looming black figures. ¨I admit that I'm a sinner, but I have given my life to Our Lord, Jesus Christ. My sins are few, your honors. I've only known one woman in my life. She was a virgin when we first started dating when I was a boy.¨ Jake stands taller, feeling the righteousness in his voice as he hears his own words.
¨I ordered my wife to explain the value of chastity to our daughter. When Nikki was 14 and had turned her eyes away from the road that God had paved for her, I sheltered her at home. When she unleashed my bastard granddaughter into the world, I did what I could to make sure that the baby had a happy foster home to go to¨.
Jake adds quickly, ¨And I sent Nikki to a girls' school where she wouldn't be tempted any longer. He smiles, confidence spreading across his face. ¨When I talk to her on the phone, she assures me that she's doing wonderfully. Sister Elizabeth, her principal, confirms it. She's a good girl.¨
He continues. ¨I helped out with my church every Christmas to feed the homeless. I was even asked by my congregation to present those poor folks with a sermon before we fed them. I'm a good Christian.¨ Jake straightens up a little taller and stares at the three shadows in the mist.
The bored, thin voice that he imagines might belong to a snarky 26-year-old temp breaks the silence that has rapidly grown barren. Jake's feet itch.
¨Mr. McDonald? Hm...¨ He sounds genuinely concerned. He's double checking the files. ¨Would that I could, I would let you in. I'm sincerely disappointed to have to tell you, however, that I'm going to have to ask you to stand at the door on your left.¨\
The sign over the door is now blinking chaotically, furiously.
EXIT EXIT EXIT EXIT EXIT
¨PLEASE!!! SAINT PETER!!!¨, Jake snivels.
The deep voice sounds once more, this time with a bass that does nothing to mask its' contempt and impatience. ¨FOR THE LAST TIME, MR. McDONALD!!! DO NOT ATTEMPT TO ADDRESS THE PANEL AS INDIVIDUALS!!!¨
¨Calm down, calm down¨, the pleasant voice of the first-grade teacher slides in.
¨You're right, dear¨, the deep voice nearly purrs in what sounds like relaxed resignation.
¨Jacob McDonald¨, the mild and mesmerizing woman's voice continues without missing a beat. ¨Or I guess we'll just call you 'Jake'. Is that okay? You like 'Jake' as I understand it?¨
The color has drained from Jake's face. ¨Yes, ma'am¨, he manages to peep.
¨MR. McDONALD!!!!!!...¨
¨Oh, HUSH!¨
¨Yes, Allison¨, the small voice pipes in sternly and with a seemingly newly acquired authority.
¨Sorry. It's almost time for lunch¨, the baritone voice sounds as if it's shrugging. ¨I'm a bit edgy. You know how I get.¨
¨Professionalism, dear. Professionalism.¨
¨Enough please, you two. We're all getting hungry.¨ The tinny voice seems to Jake to manage to direct itself at him, though it's been emanating from all around him thus far. ¨Mr. McDonald...¨
Jake is now fighting back tears, afraid to address anybody for any reason. He doesn't know which of these specters is Allison, but he feels that he's bothered that hungry entity enough. He simply nods, one eyebrow cocked severely on the north east side of his face.
The little voice continues. ¨Perhaps you didn't understand what was at stake. For that I'm truly sorry. But the fact remains that you've scored exceedingly low on the HAYC test...¨
¨WHAT IN GOD'S CREATION IS THE HAYC TEST?!!!¨, Jake sobs.
The voice of Betty White, if you will: ¨It's short for the 'Hector's Are-You-Cool' Test. Hector came up with it. Hector's a genius!¨
Allison's heavy, leautthery voice chimes in. ¨You're fuckin a right! Don't you dare say he isn't...¨
¨HUSH!¨
¨Sorry...¨
¨Yes, so you see the HAYC test takes anywhere from 13 to 107 years to complete. It essentially tests one's ablility to think for oneself, and to act upon those inclinations. A mixture of what you would think of as a reflex test and a logic puzzle.¨
Jake stands and stares in horror as he awaits his fate. His sentence.
¨So yes, dear, it just puts a pebble in my shoe to find out that you scored an F minus right down the line. What would your mother say?¨, Betty White's voice rises to a scolding tone.
Jake responds meekly, ¨I dunno. Where is she? Can I ask her?¨
¨AW JESUS DUDE SHE'S DRINKIN A MARGARITA WITH YOUR UNCLE JOE OUT ON THE PATIO!!...¨
¨ALLISON!!!!!¨, the skinny voice and the friendly mom voice bark out in unison.
¨ SORRY!!! geeze...¨
¨So yes, Mr. er…. Jake. I see from your scores on the HAYC that you've ignored all logic and reason in favor of adhering to the parts of the bible that you felt were convenient at whatever particular time.¨ Jake almost hears pages turning in a register. ¨For instance, you held hungry people hostage for 45 minutes or so because you knew they wanted some turkey.¨
¨And let's not forget, Hector dear, that the only time little Jakey ever bothered to worry about hungry people was in December...¨
¨What about Thanksgiving?!!!¨
¨I see that here, too, Mr. Jake¨.
¨Dear, why didn't you try to screw Ashley or whatever her name was?¨
¨The Bible said I shouldn't. I was just following orders, ma'am.¨ Jake quickly corrects himself. ¨I mean uh…. whoever you are.¨
Allison's voice has curiously begun to sound similar to that of Mr. T's. ¨Damn, sucka!!! They gonna run outta taco shells in the cafeteria, fool! Hurry up an answer the bitch!!!¨
¨ALLISON!!!!¨
¨ANSWER THE QUESTION, FOOL!!!¨
Jake shouts in frustration and dismay, ¨I WAS FOLLOWING THE WORD OF GOD!!!!¨
¨Oh, dear...¨, the sweet old lady voice says quietly. ¨There is no god, Jake. Your life as you've known it was basically Hector's IQ test. You've proven yourself to be a gutless moron. Excuse me for being blunt. But dear, it's true.¨
¨Yes, Mr. Jake. There may be nicer ways to tell you that you're a gutless moron, but we're wanting to get in on those tacos at the cafeteria. See, your mother and your Uncle Joe never really bought into all that Jesus nonsense. Your mother cut it a little close, but Joe passed the HAYC test with flying colors. Emma Goldman still holds the record, though.¨
¨Emma's one bad mothafucka!¨
¨She is, dear. Now please shush. Yes, Jake. Tsk tsk… So if you'll please go stand at the exit door….¨
¨Where's my dad?¨, Jake blubbers.
¨YOU'LL SEE HIM IN THE BASEMENT, FOOL!!¨
____________________________________
Later, in the basement….
¨Dad!¨
¨Jake! When did you get here? Wait, I'll catch up with you later. I gotta get this pan of taco shells up to the cafeteria!! I'll tell you what? You go change the lightbulb in the exit sign over Heck's door and I'll set up the cafeteria, then we can meet back down here and have a Bible study!¨
