23
A heavenly soldier runs screaming down the hall. A thunderous shake sends him to his knees as he’s engulfed in flame, turned to a crisp black shell that’s scattered by the next explosion. His ash floats past the rows of office doors, past the papers singed and smoking in their wood-framed boxes, through the bars of a jail cell and onto the tip of a wet pig snout. Pig takes a hit off a joint, holds it in then lets out a choked cloud of smoke.
“We’re all going to die.”
Jupiter laughs till he has to wipe the tears from his eyes.
“We are going to die though.”
They sit in a jail cell, door hanging open, passing a joint back and forth. Jupiter’s rotund planet-shaped body makes it difficult to find a comfortable spot on the bench. Pig leans forward watching the smoke curl off his fingers.
“You know what pisses me off?” He points at the ceiling. “They’re up there thinking, ‘He’s going to have a change of heart’. He’ll look deep within himself and find out that underneath that monstrous exterior he’s....” he struggles for words. “…he’s not going to abandon his friends. He’s going to...”
”Be a hero,” Jupiter says staring at the backs of his hands.
Pig blows a smoke ring through the bars of the cell.
“There’s the good guys and the bad guys and then,” he rests his hands on his chest, “there’s the conflicted individual.” He takes a drink of leftover peach punch, holds the cup with his fat pig fingers. “Selfish man makes good. See’s the error of his ways and at the last minute, does the thing that makes all the difference.” He elbows Jupiter to pay attention. “I’m talking about me,” he thumbs his chest, “going up there,” holds his arms out like he’s gripping a pole, “taking my rake and bringing it down on The Empress’s head.”
He swings with his empty hands.
“So, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is…that’s exactly what they want me to do?”
”Who?”
”They. Them.” He folds his arms across his chest. “And so, because I am the way I am, I don’t want to give it to them.”
”You don’t want to do the right thing?”
”I don’t want to do their thing.” He leans back. “It just happens to be the right thing this time.”
”Did you hear they put a pig heart into a man?” Jupiter takes a hit. Holds it. “They grew it in a lab then put it in somebody.”
Pig furrows his brow.
“Why are you telling me this?” Grabs the joint back. ”I just said all these things and then you said something that has nothing to do with the things I said.”
“You know what I’ve always wondered?” Jupiter puts his hands on his belly. “Do I have little planet organs or is it like a hot molten core in there?”
“Maybe I should go. If I don’t that means I’m stuck here with you, and after it’s over someone’s going to come down and tell us what happened and I guess that‘ll be it.”
“I think I found something.”
Jupiter pushes on his side.
“I’m going to go.” Pig stands, wobbles a bit, but doesn’t leave. “You coming?”
“I don’t want to die.”
He sits back down.
“Right.”
Jupiter unzips a black vinyl drug case, reaches in and pulls out a plastic bag full of peaches.
“I have some of these,” he offers.
Pig’s eyes grow as Jupiter fishes his tiny planet hand inside then gives him a slice. He takes a bite as the ground shakes and chunks of plaster fall from the ceiling. A giant dragon claw pierces through then disappears leaving a gaping hole as lightning fills the hall. Pig walks to the bars and looks up trying to see through the black smoke. He turns back to Jupiter who, having eaten all the peaches, has turned the bag inside out and is licking the juice off the sides. He leans against the cell wall, his pig ears at attention, drums his fingers against his belly.
”What?”
”Shhh.” He closes his eyes. “I’m listening.” They sit with the sounds of the battle muffled by the ballroom floor, spilling over the mahogany then down through the hole in the ceiling. He opens his eyes and points above them. “You hear that?” Jupiter follows the line from his finger. “That’s the sound of The Bull Demon’s ax, and that,” he traces an arc over to the other side of the cell, “is the sound of Monkey’s cudgel.”
“You can tell just by listening?”
Pig nods knowingly.
“When you’ve hid from as many battles as I have you get to know the sounds.” He sticks a finger in the air. “That whizz-pop. Monkey just transformed into 100 monkeys. He only does that when he’s in trouble, which means he’s fighting Erlang” Jupiter strains to hear. “A novice might think a battle’s like a symphony, that it ends with a crescendo and that what you’re waiting for is the drums and the gong and a bunch of commotion, but it’s the opposite. Battles start loud, shield bashing, gnashing of teeth, but they end in a whimper. People get tired. More focused. The good fighters buckle down. That’s one way to know it’s getting close. There’s a quiet and then the loser starts talking. Feels it slipping away and overcompensates with what’s left. A last insult thrown instead of a knife. That kind of thing.”
“You’re a genius,” Jupiter looks at him in awe, “at being a coward.”
Pig frowns.
“I like to think of myself as conflict-avoidant.” He crosses his arms. “I’m a pacifist really.”
“You eat people.”
“I didn’t say I was perfect.”
A jaguar covered in monkeys drops through the hole, its long white teeth stained red, chunks of fur hanging from its mouth. The monkeys pull at its hair, beat it with their fists as the jaguar explodes into a piercing blue light then transforms into Erlang, who whirls a double-edged three-pointed spear around his body, sticks it through the chest of a monkey pinning it to the wall then leaps back through the hole as the horde chases after him.
Pig stands.
“Is it time?” Jupiter asks red-eyed and nervous.
“My leg cramped up.” He shakes it then sits back down. “So how’d you get those peaches? Take them off a tray when no one was looking?”
“They’re in a storage compartment.” His voice quiets to a whisper. “I stole the pits when Monkey crashed the party. The first time. I’ve been growing my own ever since.”
There’s a giant clang, a yelp then a thud as The Bull Demon falls through the hole. He lays there breathing hard then tries to get up, slips on the blood then lays there some more. With a great groan he rolls over, looks up, sees Pig, a joint hanging from his mouth.
“The battle for heaven and you’re getting high.”
Pig points a fat finger at him.
“You’re a giant demon that’s literally covered in blood.”
The Bull Demon heaves himself up. Pats his belly.
“You think I’m giant?” Smiles as enters the cell. Gives Pig a hug then takes the joint from him. “Been a long time.”
”How’s it going up there?”
He takes a hit, leans back on the bench with Jupiter.
“Oh you know, everyone’s transforming and there’s sparkly magic and people are yelling and acting like everything’s important. It’s fun but I can only take so much before I’ve had enough.”
“How much longer?”
“Twenty. Thirty minutes. You should see Monkey. He’s on another level.” The Bull Demon hands the joint back. “He was asking about you.”
“Yeah? What’d he say?”
”What do you think he said?”
Pig waves him away.
”What is this about really?”
The Bull Demon shrugs.
”What is anything about? I started fighting because everyone else was fighting.”
Pig ashes on the floor.
“And you don’t find that a bit ridiculous?”
The Bull Demon raises an eyebrow.
”I’m a four hundred pound demon in the shape of a bull. I find everything a bit ridiculous.” He scratches in-between his horns. “Besides, my wife’s here. Have to put on a good show.” The Bull Demon nudges Pig with his elbow. “You see The Jade Emperor’s head fly across the room? I was just talking to him.”
“Can we not have the ‘it’s funny how short life is’ conversation. The man was a million years old.”
“Didn’t act a day over 14,” Jupiter says tonguing the last of the juice from the bag.
”What do we have here?” The Bull Demon looks over Jupiter licking the sides of ziplock then back to Pig.
“We’re….doing drugs.”
“Just general drugs?” Pig shrugs. “You know what? I don’t want to know.” Slaps his legs. “I have to get back anyway.” Pig stands, motions for Jupiter to do the same, pats himself down like he’s forgot his wallet. “Not coming huh?” He heaves his battle ax onto his shoulder. “I thought you were one of the good guys now. Protector of the heavenly fire pit.”
“I’m a demon!” Pig says indignantly.
”You’re supposed to be reformed.”
“I did reform. For awhile. Then I reformed back. Tomorrow I’ll form into something else.”
“Your friends,” The Bull Demon looks over his shoulder, “aren’t doing too good up there.”
Pig frowns.
“I’m a coward, is that it?” He starts pacing around the cell. “A hammer comes down and smacks your knee and your leg kicks up. Is that bravery? I’m the one that felt the pull of battle and resisted. I decided. I came down here, like a thinking discerning human being and contemplated what’s actually happening instead of running into war like some god damn animal.”
The Bull Demon towers over him.
“You’re a demon when you’re hungry. You’re a human when you’re full.” He pokes him in the chest. “Know who you are Pig.” Waves Jupiter along. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“So now I’m taking life advice from a demonic bull? Fine. That’s fine.” They both leave as Pig continues to stand in the cell. “What’re you my therapist?” He sits back on the bench listening to their footsteps grow faint. “Can’t make it eating monks so now you give demonic hallmark card advice,” he picks up the empty peach bag on the floor, turns it right-side-out then runs his fingers along the edge closing it. A scream echoes overhead followed by a shower of dust. “Shit.” He leans his head against the wall and closes his eyes, listens to the sounds bounce around the room then down through the hole in the ceiling. “All right Pig.” He reaches in his pocket for his phone. “I should’ve done this a long time ago,” dials a number then places it against his ear.
“Welcome to Oriental Occasions your number one source for hot Asian girls. Press 1 if you’d like a…” He presses 1. ”You’ve selected to chat with…” He presses 0. “I’m a fully automated system that can help fulfill your desires, please let me know what…” He presses 0 again. “Our operator will be with you shortly.” A heavenly column crumbles as a sizzling green laser cuts down the hall. Pig drums his fingers and waits.
“What can I do for you today sir?”
”Yes. I’d like a hot Asian mean girl please.”
“Like a dominatrix?”
”No. Just regular mean. Like I’m getting coffee and she ignores me.”
“You want someone that pretends to not want to talk to you?”
”Ideally she wouldn’t be pretending, but that’s more or less it.”
There’s a pause.
”Well, I don’t want to talk to you. At all.”
Pig’s eyebrows raise.
“Are you a hot Asian girl?”
Another pause.
”I’m Asian.”
”Close enough.”
Pig pokes his head out of the cell, looks down the hall in either direction. He’s put on hold and smooth jazz plays as he waddles out of his cell stepping over a Heavenly Guard, an iron fan stuck in his head. There’s a click and the music disappears.
“Hello?” He moves the phone to his other ear. “Are you there? Hello?” He follows a blood trail that looks like someone’s been dragged across the floor. “Could you just cough and let me know that you’re listening and not responding? I know I asked to be ignored but if you could just give me a little cough that way I know you’re not just…you wouldn’t believe where I am right now.”
A woman’s voice comes over the phone.
“Sorry, I had another call.”
He hears the sound of slurping through a straw then a metal cup set on a table.
“Are you just saying that or did you actually have another call?”
“I had a call.” The sound of a keyboard clicks in the background. “I might get another soon.”
“Where are you?”
”Umm.” There’s a pause. “I’m in a room.”
“Me too. I’m also in a room. Actually, I’m in a hall but I can see into rooms.”
“So you lied already. Great.” She exhales loudly. Pops her gum in her mouth and starts chewing. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re seeing I guess?”
He stops to look through a hole smashed into a wall. A room’s on fire, the paper’s curling turning black, the chairs melting into themselves as the tables bend and crack.
“It’s an office.”
“I bet you have a really boring job.”
“It’s not the best.”
“Please don’t start telling me about it.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what I do here anymore.”
“Oh god.”
“We’re having a party though.”
“I bet that’s exciting…for you.”
A headless heavenly guard staggers towards him, blood spurting from his neck as he collapses. Pig watches as it pools around his feet.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No. To the question. I’m not answering that.”
“So…” Pig opens a door to a stack of race car beds leaning against one another melted like a giant grilled cheese, the springs of the mattress exposed as a thick green smoke pours out of the room, “what are you into?”
“Not a lot honestly.”
“I meant sexually.”
“I know what you meant.”
Pig closes the door, walks further, fans the smoke, covers his eyes as he pushes till it opens into a giant rotunda with a fountain in the middle, the water boiling. A mermaid sits on top of a phosphorescent abalone shell, her arms extending up to the mosaic ceiling.
“So how did you get in to,” he steps over a dead goldfish, “this line of work?”
“I got a master’s degree in comparative literature.” Thousands of fish flop on the marble tiles, eyes staring up, mouth open, the gold shimmer slowly receding into a muted green. “Are you rich?”
Pig nudges one with his foot, rolls it over on its side.
“Symbolically? Yes.”
“Hold on. I’m getting a call.”
The smooth jazz returns. Pig wanders down another hall listening to the soft sounds of an alto sax melodically meld with flutes and wind chimes. He stops in front of a door with a big gold plaque that reads, “Heavenly Confiscated Objects” and then underneath, “Do Not Enter Without the Proper Forms.” He pushes it open and goes inside. The smooth jazz clicks off.
“I’m back.”
“Hey. I’m in a room now.”
“Congratulations.”
“I don’t want to blow your mind but I’m in heaven.”
“What’s heaven like?”
Pig looks around.
“There’s a bunch of cubbies, like in kindergarten, where you put your shoes. They’re lining the walls,” he walks up to one, “and there’s bags inside with long numbers. This one says, ‘073894058125’.”
“Heaven sounds a lot like the office you work at.”
“More than you’d think.”
“I guess you want to open it and tell me what’s inside.”
He rips it open.
“It’s a mug.” He turns it. “With a dog driving a Cadillac.”
“Is it magic?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe if you break it the spirit of the dog will come out and will like haunt you forever.”
Pig smashes it. Stares at the ceramic shards on the floor.
“I think it was just a mug.” He opens the bag next to it. “This one’s full of corn nuts.”
“Are you sure you’re in heaven?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but your heaven is pretty stupid.”
Pig pops a corn nut in his mouth.
“I’m not going to argue with you…what’s your name?”
“What’s your name?”
”Zhu Baijie.”
”I’m not telling you my name.” More typing. “So what are you doing in heaven?”
”There’s a battle going on right now.”
“I didn’t think you’re supposed to fight in heaven.”
“It’s frowned upon.”
“And you’re not fighting?”
“No.”
”Are you, like, a conscientious objector or just a pussy?”
“What’s the difference?”
“You've got to have a reason…”
“I have lots of reasons.”
“…that isn’t about yourself.”
Pig opens up a long rectangular box and pulls his rake out.
“Son of a bitch.”
”What happened?”
“Nothing. I found my rake.”
“That does sound like nothing.”
“It’s a big deal actually.”
”I have a rake. In my garage. I got it at Home Depot.”
“This is a fighting rake.”
”I hit a homeless guy with it. He littered in my yard. Actually, I don’t know if he was homeless. He hadn’t showered in a while. Maybe he had a shitty little home I don’t know about.” A kid starts crying. “Hold on. I have another call.”
The soothing sounds of Kenny G abruptly take over as Pig wanders out of the room, his rake slung over his shoulder, a bag of corn nuts in his hand. The smoke from the battle is flowing down a staircase making a carpet that drops from stair to stair and then spreads out on the floor at his feet. Lighting flashes, lasers melt buffet tables, spears are thrown into the sides of walls as Kenny keeps playing his sax.
“I’m back. My manager just wanted to make sure I was charging for the call.”
Pig takes a few steps up the stairs, looks over the top to see two dragons intertwined, clawing at each other’s bellies. Darlene staggers forward, pulls her sword out of the head of a heavenly servant as a dozen burning Monkeys fall from the sky.
“I think I might have to go.”
”Is it because I said that thing about the homeless guy? I was lying. If that makes you feel better.” There’s a pause. “I’m a good person.”
Mara crawls across the floor, her left arm severed. She makes it under a table as jade knives rain down and dig themselves into the wood.
”I’m a good person,” Pig says slowly, mesmerized by the battle.
”Are you?”
”I was repeating what you said.”
”I am a good person though”
”I’m a pig.”
”Obviously.”
“No. I’m actually a pig.”
“I’m not arguing.”
”You don’t understand.”
“I think I do.”
Nezha swings from a chandelier, his six arms flailing as Guanyin floats on a cloud, her palm leaves unfurling as she wraps a heavenly servant and stuffs him inside her vase. The Bull Demon hurls his ax which sails across the room smashing into the drum set.
“You’re a complete stranger. We have no chance of meeting. Why’re you trying to convince me you’re a good person?”
”Why are you trying to convince me you’re a pig?”
The red velvet curtain behind the stage catches fire, the velvet curling in on itself as the flames climb up to the rafters.
“Because it’s easier than not being one.”
The stage collapses in on itself as clouds of black billow out from the floor.
”This is one of the weirdest calls I’ve ever been on. Weirder than that guy that wanted me to pretend to be tied to a tree.”
”I was tied to a tree once.” He watches Mara hold her arm, the blood gushing through her small hand. A heavenly guard approaches, sword raised. “I think…I might…something’s wrong.”
”What’s the matter?”
”I have this tight feeling in my chest.”
“Is it something you ate?”
”It’s hot and throbbing. I don’t know. I might be feeling…bad.”
”Did you do something wrong?” Flaming monkeys rain down from the sky. The heavenly guard raises his sword as Mara closes her eyes and looks away. “I’m sure you’re a good person, you know, underneath.”
“I’m not actually,” Pig raises his rake, “but sometimes, it feels good to pretend.”
He charges up the stairs, locks eyes with Mara, smashes the guard standing over her flinging him across the room as the last column crumbles, the ceiling caves in and the walls of the palace bury everyone in a pile of heavenly ruble.