Surreal Life Orgins Part Two: The Game

Chapter 12: The Intoxicaion

Gluttony is a sign; we eat because something is eating us.

“Oh boy … Greed is sure is screwed,” Lust said as she entered the sin’s “VIP” lounge, whereas the sins stay when their work has been finished (“VIP” because it has moderately-hot coffee and not a-constant-reminder-that-you-live-in-Hell-hot coffee)

“By, whatever do you mean?” asked her father.

“You didn’t hear?  That dork was apparently was planning to use his superiority he has been blessed with, to use us, to overthrow uncle … and from what I heard … even the powers that be.” answered Lust.

“Where did I go wrong with that one?” wondered Pride rhetorically.

“Taking over two worlds?  One alone would take effort … he truly is insane,” Sloth laughed.

“A mortal, I think Bodhidharma once said, ‘The ignorant mind, with its infinite afflictions, passions, and evils, is rooted in the three poisons. Greed, anger, and delusion,’” quoted Lust.

“Hey!” shouted Wrath, “Shut up!

The conversation on Greed’ ignorant plan between the other sins continued on for over an hour, when a whipped and slightly toasted man in a greasy-sweet jacket came in, leaned on the doorway, and addressed gourmandizing personified as such, “OI, fugly … the boss’s got a job for you.”

            After about a half an hour of posing Jeremy with trivial pursuits such as, “You don’t have eyes, can you see?” and “How is it possible for you to move without muscles?” the octet reached Papa’s favorite room, the wine cellar.

            “Damn shame that this has got to git gone too,” disclosed Papa, “Hundreds and hundreds of different types of grog, soon to be gone at sun rise.”

            ‘Well, with the pack on your back now no longer occupied with Jeremy, you can save some of it,’ penned Kno.

            “We can’t do that, we don’t have the time.  Sunrise is only a little bit over a half hour away!” opposed Joni.

‘You should always waste time when you don't have any,’ disagreed Kno, ‘Time is not of the essence.  Patience is.  Rule 408.’

As Papa went to grab nearly twenty bottles of rum, as what happened to the rest, became separated from the remainder of the group.  Only this time, the wall as made from imperishable, sound impenetrable, pexi-glass.

Right before the wall closed, Papa turned around and heard Joni tell Kno, “See, I told you…”

            When Papa had the sense of hearing a conversation, he did not turn to face it, but merely listened.  He learned from his nights at the bar that it is wise to overhear a tête-à-tête well in advance to joining it.

            “There, now they can’t see in but we can see out.” said the voice of a woman, the same voice Samson depicted as being Lust’s.

            “Can I eat him now Lustie?” asked the voice of a man.

            “Not yet,” said Lust, “You have to sway him first.  If you eat him now, then Vatru will be angry at boss, and then boss will become angry with us.

“Hold on … Eat Me?” shouted Papa as he turned, “What kind of operation is that God forsaken “God” operating?”

Lust (who was in her sprite form) and the apparently hungry man (who looked to be a blob of fat with a pair of legs), stared at Acapella, puzzled.  They had not expected their private conversation to be less so.

After a brief moment of silence, Lust finally said, “At least try to persuade him, Gluttony.  If he’s not convinced by the time I return, I will just make a Fingerefinxi of him, and then you can eat this booze loving fool, and never let him out.”

At that Lust flew away to Hell and the fat blob transformed into something that somewhat resembled an ugly radio-host; complete with a bald, misshapen cranium, a pickleized nose, merely three, salami-sized fingers on each hand, and a cloudy tracksuit that was literally held together a tea kettle and some rope (not to mention the blubber, not fat, but blubber).

The one who Papa concluded to be the sin of glutton said too him, “So, Mr. Acapella, I wish to know … why?  Why do you help these strangers that you just met?  I see no point in this.”

“It’s simple,” answered Papa, “it’s not for them, it’s for my crowbar, and it be go against my oath in to Thee Knight’s Brotherhood of Kwailalilii, and to avenge thee death of my dear bucko, Butch … and maybe some grog, but that’s beside thee point.”

“There’ll be crowbars in my area of Hell which I rule,” proposed Gluttony in a promising tone.

“Perhaps so … but I know how Hell works, I found Tikarrondé’s memoir on his deal with yer boss. I’d be sent to Perfidia, thee ring preserved for traitors.  Leaving now and sending those wee ones to Hell be count as treason.”

Gluttony was, by-far, not the brightest sin, or demon for that matter, but he knew that even Pride would be baffled at how a man like Papa had known words like perhaps and treason.  If one where to discover why men like Papa had known words like perhaps and treason, they would determine several fixations of the cosmos, something that even Gods, Goddesses, and Semi-Gods knew minimal information about. (They had only discovered the In-Between one hundred years ago)

After shaking himself out of his brief state of bewilderment, Gluttony sat down on a crate of wine and said, “Well, guess we’re gonna just wait ‘till Lustie comes back, makes the Fingerefinxi you, then I can eat you.”

“What’s a Fingerefinxi?” asked the fat man as he noticed something shiny at his feet.

“A fake, a copy, an imitation,” explained the sin.

“I don’t want to be eaten,” said the motel manager as he picked up the shiny thing, which, to his delight, was the crowbar used to open the wine crates.  The first thing that came to his mind, like all others with a newly acquired crowbar do, was to bash the evil before him.

And so he did.

When he did Gluttony, as an animalistic instinct, opened up his mouth as wide as he could, (which, at that point, cut through his stomach) and chomped down.

But, rather than eating the drunk, he ate the wall that separated The Crowbar Knight of the Supernatural Isle, and the rest, allowing the rearmed man to escape.

When he leapt through the hole, everyone stared at Acapella with shock.

No one expected him to make the right decision, let alone escape.

“I’m surprised that I’m shocked, for after all these years of knowing him, he has always come through,” said Jeremy, thought about that statement for a second, then added, “Well … once in a while.  Well … once or twice.  Well … once, but that was a moderately respectable time.”