When Thomas Tank, devout atheist, is offered ‘a simple job’ from God, things go Biblical real fast.
And by Biblical, I mean, violent, bloody and deviant sexual of course.
Excerpt below: Warning! Adult language and stuff!
Elemiah pulled up outside a dingy looking basement bar.
“Here we are,” he said. “Through the entrance down there. Now piss off.”
“Gracious as always,” Tom answered, climbing out of the car.
He walked down a narrow flight of urine-smelly stairs, and into a grubby looking establishment with low lighting and chairs occupied by dubious looking characters. The most dubious looking character of all was sitting on a stool at the bar. He was chatting to a tall brunette in a tiny skirt and skimpy purple top that was struggling to contain a pair of enormous breasts.
Tom walked up and sat on the seat next to God, coughing to attract his attention.
“Just a minute love, bit of business okay?” God said to the woman before turning to face him. “So, not exactly a resounding success then?”
“Hello to you too,” Tom replied.
“I told you to finish her, you just manage a minor flesh wound.”
“You never told me she was a rogue assassin Saint!” hissed Tom back. “’A Piece of Cake’ was the phrase!”
“Well, fair enough. Actually, she’s killed everyone I’ve sent after her to date, so you did a good job considering. I reckon that’s worth half a point, so we’re still in the game. Fancy a drink?” He nodded at the barmaid and pointed at Tom. “Another for my friend here, put it on my tab.”
“Having fun are you? Boozing and fondling the locals?” Tom nodded in thanks as a beer landed in front of him.
“What can I say? Us gods have always been lecherous bastards. You should have met Zeus! I used to go out on the town with him all the time. Man he could put them away. Good times, good times. They’ve all gone now of course.” God sighed.
“You mean… died out because no one worships them any more?”
“Nah, buggered off to some other dimension. Said it was too boring here. Shame really, they really had colour, and you should have seen the tits on Aphrodite.” He held his hands out descriptively. “What a pair of melons they were. She was always up for a good seeing to up the ass as well, I miss that for sure. Ares pops in now and then, but he’s not a great drinking buddy, always ends up in a fight. Still, that’s the god of war for you. Can I get another one here darling?” He waved a finger at the barmaid, a little unsteadily.
“How can you get drunk?” Tom asked, sipping his beer carefully.
“How’s that now? Just because I’m a god means I can’t enjoy myself once in a while? I allow myself to, that’s how. Got to do something to pass the time. Sitting listening to prayers gets old real fast.” He rolled his eyes. “You should hear the whining bastards…” He made the ‘quotes sign’ with his fingers and spoke in a high pitched voice. “ ‘Please God, let little Timmy get better,’ or… ‘Why did Grandma have to die?’ Or perhaps… ‘Please don’t let her find out I’m shagging the kids.’ Fuck, give it a rest and get on with your lives already, I mean, who gives a shit?” He took a deep swig from the glass the barmaid had just placed in front of him.
“I… see.” Tom took a deeper draft from his own glass and pondered the implications of this. He was interrupted by God sliding a small card over to him.
“Your next target.”
“The Reverend Patrick White,” he read, raising his eyebrows. “You’re doing away with one of your own?”
God shrugged. “Meh, plenty more where he comes from, and it was the Devils’ turn to choose. Don’t worry, there’s a Satanic cult down in South America that’ll be short of their leader next week. It’s all swings and roundabouts. Anyway, this should be easy, the church is just up the street, and the Devils’ agent is miles away. It’ll be a shoe-in.”
“You said the last one would be a piece of cake too,” Tom muttered, but God had turned away and was busy flirting with a brunette once more.