By Henry Chase Richards
—Evening, traveller. You look lost …
—Oh, hey. I didn’t see you there. You know what, I think I am.
—That’s alright. We’re all lost in some way. And that’s why I’m here, at this crossroads. To put you in the right direction. So, can I trouble you for two minutes of your time?
—Sure, I guess.
—Excellent. Excellent. By the way, it’s Cain, isn’t it?
—How do you know my name?
—Cain. That’s a strong name. Iconic, even. Now tell me, Cain: are you a God-fearing man?
—I was raised Christian, yes.
—Of course. And you’re a wise man, too, I’ll bet! Coz I reckon you’ll agree that while God gets a glowing wrap from the press, there’s no greater tyrant in the universe. Unleashing plagues of frogs and deleting dinosaurs? You’re right to fear the guy! And yet, everyone friggen loves him. Buying what he’s selling like it’s the latest iPhone X Tesla collab. It gives me the ick.
—Well, I mean. What he’s selling is pretty good.
—Please. What’s God actually got to offer, anyway? I mean, really. No, don’t tell me. You’re talking ‘eternal life’, ‘absolution of sin’, all that noise?
—I mean, something like that.
—Alright, well, I’d like to make you an alternative proposal. May I do that, Cain?
—Ummmmm.
—What if, just like God, I could also promise you eternal life. BUT, to sweeten the deal, I’ll allow you to keep all your sins, just as they are, no questions asked, until the end of time – and beyond.
—I’m not sure I follow.
—I can’t understand it, all the hype around purging ourselves of sin. It’s crazy talk, if you ask me. All our mistakes and misdeeds, they’re beautiful. They make us who we are. The whisky nips you used to sneak to get you through the first few years of marriage? Hey, go off, king! Your penchant for furry porn? Tasteful, if you ask me. And that teeny-tiny, extramarital incident between you and the waitress in Majorca back in 2015? Well, that’s none of anyone’s God-damn business, am I right, Cain?
—How d’you know about all that?
—If God loves you so much, what’s he doing trying to micromanage you from his ivory tower in the sky? Huh?? Besides, sin isn’t a bad thing – it’s a good thing. I like to think of it as character-building. Texture. Crunch. Without sin, what’ve we got? Netflix but no chill. Tacos with no cheese. Reggae without weed. BOR-RING!
—I think you’re kinda missing the point of-
—DON’T interrupt me, Cain. I’m not finished with my pitch. And I was just getting to the best part. That trip you took back in 2015 – would you say the weather was the highlight?
—Well …
—No, no, don’t tell me. Ha ha, I know what the big highlight was, you dirty dog. But you’ve gotta admit, the sea, the sand, the sun – that’s what you came back raving about to the fellas, right?
—Sure, I guess.
—Right. Well, Cain, where you and I are going, that’s what you can expect day in, day out: warm weather and not a thing to do but soak it all in. Picture majestic views as far as the eye can see, of dramatic gorges and breath-taking caverns and a lake of fire that you can not only hotdog-leg beside, but roast a marshmallow on!
—Well, I do love s’mores.
—But wait, there’s mores! You see what I did there?
—Very good.
—Very good is right, my friend. And you know what else is very good? Your very own penthouse condominium, overlooking the stunning, world-famous Lake of Fire, complete with jacuzzi bath, unlimited Foxtel, and full room service, including a daily routine of brutal, prostate-rupturing sodomy.
—I’m sorry, what?
—I know! It’s too good to be true!! But you don’t need to take my word for it, Cain. Just take a look at the sprawling list of celebrity influencers who’ve all taken my offer in the past – testimonials from the likes of Marilyn Munroe, Tupac Shakur, John Lennon, Mother Teresa, Drake and many, many more, all of whom could be your neighbours, until the end of time!
—Wow, that’s quite an endorsement.
—You’re telling me! So, what do you say?
—I mean, I’d be lying if I said you haven’t piqued my interest.
—You can lie, cheat, and steal all you like, Cain. Anything goes in the Land Below, where the world’s your oyster and the sky really is the limit! So, leave the sky to the birds, Cain. Heaven? It’s a con, cooked up by some huckster with a neat beard and a well-ironed bathrobe.
—But there must be some kind of catch to all this …
—That’s the beauty of it, Cain! Everything I’ve mentioned could be yours, all for the small price of a measly, little soul – your soul! The same thing God’s asking, but for waaaaay more in return.
—My soul, hey? That feels like a pretty big ask.
—But is it, really? I mean, you were going to give it to God anyway. So I don’t see what the big deal is.
—I know, I know. But after this chat, I’m starting to wonder if I want to let anyone have my soul at all.
—Cain, Cain, Cain. This is not the time to start getting coy with me. You seem like a smart guy. But I think you’ve misunderstood the nature of this situation we’ve found ourselves in. Those sins I was talking about before? I meant it when I said they were yours to keep. Now sure, you can ask God for absolution, but that’s hardly gonna save you in the here and now, is it? I’m talking about this life, on planet Earth, with your gorgeous wife and your cute kids. Now, what are they gonna think when they find out Daddy cheated on Mummy with a 19-year-old waitress when he was meant to be on a ‘business trip’ that summer he should’ve been at home watching his daughter’s soccer final?
—Oh dear God, no. You can’t …
—Oh but I can, Cain. And I will. Look, I like you, I really do. But so help me God, you sign this contract and you give me your soul or I will dox you. I’ll dox you as mercilessly as hellfire, right here, right now. I’ll dox you so hard that Michael, Aaron and, yep, even Faith the football prodigy, will never speak to you again. Now, what’s it gonna be, Cain? My way or the long, lonely, my-kids-have-disowned-me-and-now-I-live-in-my-hatchback highway?
—OK, OK, OK. I’ll play ball. I’ll do anything. Please, just stay away from my family.
—I like your style, Cain. I like it a lot. You’d have to be an idiot to let a deal like this pass you by. This deal, Cain, it’s once in a lifetime. So, congratulations! I’ve got the contract right here. Just sign on the dotted line.
—Alright then. Have you got a pen?
Henry Chase Richards is an Eora-based writer, editor and amphibian who runs the literary project Fondue and edits Soft Stir magazine. They are currently chipping away at a doctorate in literature and creative writing at Western Sydney University. Henry is also the (unofficial) poet laureate of Australian rugby league.
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