The Final Coming

The Final Coming

Dedicated to Doris King

Chapter One

Satan sat on a stool at the bar of the Avion in Kennedy Airport's Terminal 4. He wore a dark sports coat over a white collared shirt with no tie, and sat at an angle on his stool keeping an eye on both the door and the baseball game on the television above the bar. One hand rested on dark, slim slacks, the other gently holding a thick glass running low of Jim Beam Bourbon, both framed by stiff cuffs with silver links in the shape of the human symbol for infinity. The crowd at the Avion was a mixed bag: businessmen dressed for work\/travel, couples heading for vacation destinations, the occasional family with a young child or two, the parents killing time and attempting to dull their senses before a long flight. There were no regulars at the Avion.  

As he tilted his head back to drain the last bit of bourbon from the bottom, he could see, through the side of his glass, a man enter the bar; a Middle-Eastern looking man, in his thirties, short and dark with shiny clean but ragged facial hair. The image was distorted but he knew who it was.  

"You're late. How unexpected of you." Satan held up his empty glass, rocking it back and forth to illustrate to the bartender that it was empty. Looking back at the man, he said, "You've got some catching up to do."  

The man was God, and he did a low wave of his hand indicating that he didn't need a drink. "There was a long wait at customs."  

"Customs! I love it! All-powerful being and you put yourself down at the end of a line. Always the martyr when you visit." Satan beamed.  

God ignored the comment, sat, and swiveled his chair so that he faced Satan directly, and with a smile he made an obvious gesture of looking him over from head to toe. "I like the look."  

"We call that 'elevator eyes' in this part of the world, and it is frowned upon in most settings." Satan tipped his glass towards God. "You may need a sexual harassment seminar." Satan looked across the bar at an unexceptional looking woman in her thirties, and when she made eye contact he lowered and raised his eyes in an obvious and provocative manner. She immediately looked away, but for just a moment she looked back. "In private, though, they need it."  

God looked at the woman who smiled softly, then became uncomfortable, gathered her things and left. Satan shook his head with a little laugh. "See? They like me, and you just 

make them feel bad about themselves."  

God looked back at Satan and smiled. "Well, it's a little more complicated than that."  

"Yeah, see, I've got to be honest with you." Satan replied thoughtfully, "I don't think it is. I think the only complicated aspect of all of this is you." He raised his hand to gesture toward the people in the bar. "They are unbelievably simple. And a waste of your time, I might add."  

God's smile diminished and he became businesslike. "I didn't come to argue."  

His compliment rebuffed, Satan's tone turned angry. "Well then, what did you come here for?"  

Before God could respond, a young girl of about ten years old entered the bar. She was beautiful with black hair and light blue eyes, and though she was nearly shapeless, a short skirt exposed her long legs. A middle-aged man old enough to be her grandfather eyed her as she walked in, and his eyes drifted from her face to her legs, over and over again. The little girl looked at him and smiled coyly, as if she understood and enjoyed his thoughts. As he turned on his stool to watch her pass by, her skirt seemed to grow shorter, and the man couldn't take his eyes off of her long, shapeless thighs. The girl turned her head, walked over to God, and as she lifted herself to sit in Satan's now empty stool, the man looked directly up her skirt. She looked at God, and in Satan's voice said, "Now that was awkward."