Introduction: Oh Shit, Part 2

The man stared at Slaton for what felt like an eternity, the dark eyes boring into Slaton with such intensity that he started to tremble slightly. A new Muse song entered into the fray to break the silence:

Break me in,
Teach us to cheat
And to lie, cover up
What shouldn't be shared?
All the truth unwinding
Scraping away
At my mind
Please stop asking me to describe him

Finally, Slaton managed to speak, despite his unrelenting terror pulsing through his veins.

“What do you want?” he sputtered nervously.

The well-dressed man let out a small chuckle. The tension was gone from his eyes. “Oh, I just happened to be in the neighborhood. You have some funny neighbors. Did you know that Mrs. Jensen down the street is committing adultery with two men at the same time right now, while her 2-year old takes a nap, and her husband is away on a business trip? Three houses down, John Basking has a meth lab in his garage.” He stopped for a moment to pull out a very large hand-wrapped cigar from a jacket pocket, lit it with a sterling silver Zippo lighter, and continued. “Here we are, in a perfect storyboard middle class suburban American neighborhood, and you have horrible things happening everywhere you look! I mean, you can’t make that shit up. It’s classic!” He blew out a ring of smoke at Slaton, and started to laugh in earnest.

“If you came here to have a discussion on middle class American life, you can just leave right now,” Slaton muttered. “I already know the world is blind to its own hypocritical nature when it comes to good and evil.”

“No, you’re wrong,” replied the man as he shook his head. “Humans refuse to confront it. Do you understand the difference, Slaton? The world goes on as it always will since its creation.” Another puff of smoke, and the man smiled. “Men are nothing more than a Godforsaken speck on the universal timeline, a small zit on the universes’ chin.” The man sat up slightly and leaned towards Slaton. “Come closer, I have a secret to tell you.”

Slaton shook his head. “No. You’ve already told me enough. You’ve already broken me down enough at it is, and I don’t care about your philosophi-“

“Come here, you worthless meatsack,” interrupted the man, practically hissing the words as his eyes glinted dangerously. Slaton had no choice, and got out of his chair, trembling as he kneeled down close to the man. The man licked his lips, and placed his mouth inches away from Slaton’s ear. Putrid hot breath, smelling of tobacco and a hint of cloves blended into Slaton’s senses, intoxicating him.

“you, you… humans,” growled the man, “have been abandoned by God. He has left you and your pathetic kind to find your own way through the universe. Do you understand? His greatest mistake was to create humans in His own likeness, and His understanding of that has left Him heartbroken and forlorn. He had such high hopes for your kind. You have killed and raped, pillaged and plundered in His name for thousands of years, and He has finally had enough of it, for it is a mirror of His own mind, and that sickens him. He…is….gone….”

“You lie, Light-Bearer,” whispered Slaton as tears slowly began to trail down his unshaven cheeks. The man laughed again, and stood up.

“Perhaps. I do tend to deceive when it suits my purpose,” the man sardonically replied. “However, this is not one of those times.” The man walked over to a Tool poster Slaton had splayed across his wall. “One of my favorite rock bands, these guys. They get it, the whole kit and caboodle.”

I have to finish, or at least send what I have done before he kills me, Slaton thought to himself. “Í have other posters of theirs in my closet,” he gestured as he wiped away tears and slowly made his way back to his computer desk.

“Hmm. Do you mind if I take a gander?” the man asked.

“Do I have a choice of saying no?” Slaton sarcastically said.

“Ah, Yes,” the man grinned, puffed from his cigar and walked over to Slaton’s closet. “Choice is what caused a large portion of this predicament you humans now find yourselves in.” The man started shuffled through the clothing, shoe boxes and old videogame machines in Slaton’s closet, searching for posters.

Now! Slaton quickly typed some remaining last words on his letter, typed in an email address on his Gmail, and hit send. I wish I had time to explain it all to her, but she’ll have to piece it together on her own. A great sense of relief washed over Slaton as he turned around to see the man holding up a poster of a pig with a fork in it.

“Magnificent,” the man murmured. He turned his attention back to Slaton, and sat back down on Slaton’s bed.

“So now what?” asked Slaton.

“Do you know why I showed you my plan?” the man queried as he drew air into his cigar. “What would be my purpose of showing a human my masterpiece of design and function?”

“I was wondering about that, and as far as I can tell, there really isn’t a good reason.”

“Wrong again, my boy. A plan this magnificent, this perfect and chaotic needs an audience! You just happened to be walking by, and I thought to myself, ‘here’s a slob I can trust to understand his duty once I have given him his direction to go.’” The man moved over to Slaton, and bent down to whisper in Slaton’s ear. “I know what it is you type on your computer. I chose you for this purpose because I know you are weak, and you have done what I had hoped you would do.” The man backed off and grinned at Slaton. “I want the world to know, because humans must know in order for my plan to succeed.”

My God, Slaton thought to himself, this is part of his grand plan. He wanted me to spread the word. I am nothing but this man’s tool to use… As recognition spread throughout Slaton’s thoughts, he started to sob.

“Father, forgive me,” he whispered.

“No, he won’t,” the man responded. “As I said, he no longer cares. The rest of this,” the man gestured spreading his arms, “this world, is now a big playground for whatever the fuck I want to create. And I want Chaos!” The man put out his cigar on Slaton’s bed, and pulled out a handgun with a silencer on his pocket.

I’ve done what I can. I just hope he doesn’t realize who I sent the letter to. A sense of peace, despite the threat of his impending death, flooded over Slaton.

“I am ready,” he said, and closed his eyes. The man laughed again.

“I don’t need to kill you,” the man pompously said. “You humans have done a brilliant job of doing that yourself since you were first created.” The man set the gun next to Slaton, and patted him on his head. “You know what to do.”

Slaton looked at the gun. “Why put a silencer on it?”

The man looked at Slaton with mock indignation. “What, and wake the neighbors? Always selfishly thinking of yourself, aren’t you?” The man then gave a thumbs up to Slaton. “I’ll see you on the other side,” the man said as he walked out of Slaton’s room.

Slaton picked up the gun. I have to do this. It’s too late for me. I have done what I can, he repeated to himself. He put the gun in his mouth, turned off the safety, and put his finger to the trigger. Magdalene, and Mother, forgive me. He closed his eyes again, and pulled the trigger.

The man could hear the thump sound as he walked down the hallway from Slaton’s bedroom. He took off his fedora and placed it on his heart, and muttered a prayer. Down the hallway, Mathew Bellamy could be heard:

it's time we saw a miracle
come on it's time for something biblical
to pull us through
and pull us through
and this is the end
this is the end of the world

The man laughed. “How fitting,” he mused as he put his hat back on and walked out of Slaton’s home, into the darkness of night.