A Deal with The Deity

They say don’t make a deal with the devil, but they never warned me about God. So there I was, young and foolish, having committed the error of trying to leap across a death-defying drop while completely plastered, when, somewhat predictably, I ended up stuck at the very bottom of everything.

They told me that heaven was up, but I fell down. What was with that? I remember looking at this girl — she was maybe mid-thirties, with a great tan and a quizzical, squinty look on her face. Her ironic beret and waistcoat placed her somewhere in the mid 1990s, which was weird, as I always expected God to be sort of timeless?

“You know what, man?” she said, “I feel like you deserve a second chance. You’ve fucked up. We all fuck up sometimes, I mean, Peter’s meant to be here right now, but here I am, all a-fucking-lone, you get me?! Fucking workplace relationships. They warned me, you know? They warned me about him.”

I stared at her, blankly, expecting some kind of further context. Her words tripped up gently into one another, then collapsed at the end of the sentence.

“I said, ‘am I right’, Todd?”
“Sure, sure.”
“Great, cos I’m gonna give you a gift that nobody has ever had before.”
“So who are you?”
“God, Todd, I’m God. Look around you — pearly gates, fluffy clouds, angels, you get the picture?”
“Why is everything so fuzzy? I feel like I’m missing glasses or something.”
“Ah, you get used to it. It makes everyone look about 3% more attractive.”
“So I’m staying here, then?”
“No Todd, hey, aren’t you listening to me?” She jabbed me in the chest, but, weirdly, it didn’t hurt. “You’ve got another chance. You’re the only one. I picked you out ‘specially. I figured ‘hey, maybe this guy can really turn his life around’. I mean, it can’t get much worse for you, right? And anyway, it’s kinda boring just letting people through here all the time. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to about stuff, and, well I like your shoes Todd, you seem like a pretty interesting guy.”
“Thanks?”
“Yeah, maybe interesting isn’t the right word. But you certainly seem to end up in interesting situations.”
“Isn’t that, like, your domain?”
“No! Free will, remember! I can only smite people nowadays, and I tend to avoid doing that. It’s so hard on the wrists, you know?”

She clutched at a wrist and rolled her eyes back in her head, groaning theatrically. At least, I thought it was theatrics.

“So am I gonna be, like, reincarnated or something?”

She snorted and looked straight into my eyes, wincing slightly as if it was quite hard to focus (which it was).

“Todd. Listen, man. You are gonna be a Todd for a very tong lime. Long time.. a long time I said.”
“Um…”
“Yes, you *will* die!”
“I thought I already did?”
“I didn’t finish my sentence, Todd. OK?!”

A bench appeared in a puff of magic or something. She dropped onto it heavily and pointed a wavering finger at my face.

“You will die when you’re ready to accept death. And not any sooner. Alright? No dying on me till you’ve hit your inner peace time. OK?”
“Sure, sounds like a pretty sweet deal? What happens if I get hit by a bus or something, though?”
“It’ll bloody hurt.”

The world went pink and there was a rhythmic whooshing sound in my ears. Lights flashed everywhere and there was a siren, too. It was a lot to deal with.

Chris D’Agorne also writes for How to Rewild.