A PARABLE (WITH NO KNOWN OUTCOME)

Once, there was a man. He was neither slender nor fat, his head was well-shaped, his muscles did bulge.

It was a gray and rainy day, yet the man did walk; he walked to the store to get some tobacco products. He was addicted, you see.

Along his walk, he noted things like the gray squirrel slicing to the top of the branch, he noted a neighbor's front yard gargoyle (complete with a lighting system) and he nodded his approval.

He walked.

Satan blindsided him from his left. God was an afterthought on his right.

Satan said, "Just buy some, you skank whore."

God murmured in the man's right ear.

Satan said, "Don't listen to that pussy punk motherfucker. All you need is here."

The man walked on; raindrops sluiced off his fedora's bill. He thought, I want silence in my mind. I just want God-blessed silence.

God spoke, then, but the man chose not to hear Him.

Satab said, "Good deal, sucker. You're with Us."

The man walked on. The skies were gray, there was intermittent rainfall; the man felt at Home.

For a few blessed steps, there was silence in the man's mind. He walked and breathed and appreciated Nature.

And then, God spoke up: "Son, you need to do some deep deep thinking. You need to face your demons and, I'm here to say, you have to best them. You've a lot of Love to give this world; you just have to cut the demon off."

"Easier said than done, Yaweh," the man muttered. "Easier said than done. Why don't You ask me to move a fucking boulder? That? That maybe I could do. What you're asking is nigh impossible, Sir. What you're asking is paramount to a...life change."

God nodded and trees swayed in His wind.

"God, I don't know," the man said.

Satan chimed in. "Don't listen to that billion-year-old fuck. He's a whitewash. He's nothing. I am king. I have the pleasures. What the fuck does that old coot have? Nothing. A cloudy throne? So fucking what? I am the king."

The man walked. Raindrops dripped. In his blood, the heroin was swirling. It made a dreary day palatable. The heroin made the man appreciate the blessedness of the drizzle. It made him...Heavenly.

Work, girlfriend, house, bills...all the concerns floated away. And he thanked Satan.

And he walked. The Future he was walking towards ceased to be paramount. The Future that he was walking towards ceased to be tangible--it lost its meaning. The man walked and he thought. And forgot. And thought. And forgot.

And he thought, This?! Is this what I signed up for?! Hell. No. I wanted picket fences, man. Whadda fuck?

Satan said, "You listened to me. Good boy."

God spoke from his right. He said, "You purposefully shunned what I had to say. You dropped the ball, son."

The man walked on, through the gray rainy late-afternoon and he thought. And he thought. And he thought. And he bristled at his earlier transgressions. And he bristeled. And he walked, through the rain, to the store to buy cigarettes...and a sixer. And a fifth of vodka and a balloon of the H.

And he walked out of the store and he turned his eyes skyward. "God, Jesus," he said, "how can I extricate myself from this self-made bondage? How do I bust the cycle?!"

And Jesus Christ answered and he said, "Fuck you, lackey. We've been here--always. You chose your path, you made your fucking bed. Lie in it. When you're serious, We'll answer. Until then, fuck off."

And Satan snickered and he said, "We'll always have a bed for you, here. Just call on me. I'll hook you up."

And the man walked on, towards home, from the Crime-Free Heroin Store in the gray sky, and the rain dripped off of his fedora's bill.

***