19
A trail of red ants march through the dirt. A few stop and inspect a patch of burnt earth then climb over a Cadillac hubcap before disappearing into a tuft of grass. Mara watches till the last has gone, her small frame casting a long shadow over Sand’s grave. A flock of birds flutters by the fence, their heads jerking toward her as she peels the sticker off the post. It curls as she hands it to Pig, a bouquet of flowers wearing sunglasses.
“Your friend’s dead,” she says scanning the yard.
“Oh.” He looks at the sticker again. “No sign of Monkey?” She shakes her head. “He’ll show up.”
“I don’t know.” She looks at the cars scattered across the lot. “Something bad happened here.”
“Was this who we were looking for?” Ricky asks confused.
“Yes.” Pig scrunches his face. “Not really. He was…” He sighs.
“Do you want to say something,” Mara offers.
“Say something,” Ricky prompts.
Pig scratches his chin.
“You know you like to make speeches so you might as well get one out now.”
He nods. Kicks the dirt. A small cloud rises and is carried off before disappearing in a swirl.
“The last graveyard I visited,” he clears his throat, “was a tourist attraction. I was on the road and stopped at this clown motel.” Mara raises an eyebrow. “I’m not kidding. I’m pretty sure it was called “Clown Motel” or “The Clown Motel”. It was just a shitty motel on the side of the road but supposedly it was haunted. At least that’s how they got people to stay there. Small town folklore. You know how it goes. Anyway, there was a graveyard next to it. Used to be a mining town. Some terrible explosion killed a bunch of people. Why it was haunted I guess, or at least, that’s the story they told. Didn’t bother looking into it. The ghosts of dead miners with nothing better to do than open and close drawers in the middle of the night.” He shrugs. “Nice work if you can get it.”
“Is this going somewhere?”
Pig waves her off.
“I stayed there is the point, and right before bed I took a walk through the graveyard. Rows of small crosses. Each with a bit of tin where they’d punched the names of the people, their age and then underneath, how they died. Cholera. Mine Explosion. Murdered in the alley. I liked that. It’s what I want to know. How they died. I might not understand a single thing about them but knowing that made it feel like I knew them. I’ve been around a lot of death and there’s a certain intimacy in knowing their last moments. Always felt like it told me…something, but maybe not. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.”
He scrunches his face up. Puts his hands in his pockets.
“Anyway, there was this grave right when you walked in, had the person’s name, age and then underneath it said, “Life became a burden.” I looked at that and I thought, ‘that’s exactly right’. It’s not, ‘she hung herself’. Life became a burden. That stuck with me, and sure, there’s a relief knowing that however small and insignificant that burden was, it’s gone, and part of me feels better knowing that, but the other part looks at those letters punched in that piece of tin, and all I can do is shake my head and move on, because there’re some things that’re so sad you can’t even look at them.”
He reaches down and picks up the hub cap. Dusts off the Cadillac logo.
“I didn’t sleep much that night. I remember thinking, ‘maybe I’m being haunted by the ghosts in the desert,’ but I’ve met my fair share of spirits so I knew it wasn’t that. It was…I don’t know. Here was this person I didn’t know and I remember thinking, ‘You should feel bad. You’re not feeling bad enough’ then I got distracted and didn’t think about her at all. It was gone. Completely.”
He tosses the hubcap in the dirt.
“That’s how I feel when I look at him lying there. Sand. Dead. In the ground. I should feel worse. I should feel bad seeing him like this, and I do, a little, but I know once we drive away, I’m not going to think about him or remember half the things we did, and he’ll fade into another story I tell to impress some woman when I’m explaining how a Monkey, a Sand Demon and a Demonic Pig led a doe-eyed monk halfway around the globe to fetch Buddhist manuscripts that were supposed to change the world.”
Mara looks up.
“That was the most sensitively egocentric thing I’ve ever heard.” He smiles. “That wasn’t a compliment.”
“You asked me to say something. What did you think I was going to say?”
“I don’t know. Something about him. Who he was.”
He shrugs.
“I don’t know who we was. We weren’t that close.”
Mara waits for more, but nothing comes.
“So you’re done?”
He nods.
“Yeah.” Drops the sticker. Smashes it into the dirt with his hoof. “Done with this whole damn thing.”
He walks back to the car as Mara turns to follow.
“You’re giving up? Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“And you’re fine with leaving that psycho in charge?” She points to the clouds. “After everything he’s done?”
Pig turns.
“The Jade Emperor’s not responsible for this. You can’t blame him for this. Besides, I don't know if you’ve noticed but we’re psychopaths. I’m a psychopath. You’re a psychopath.” He looks over to Ricky. “Are you a psychopath Ricky?”
Ricky looks up from his phone.
“I don’t think so.”
“Ok. Ricky isn’t a psychopath, but c’mon, do you really think we’d do any better? That if we scaled the gates of heaven, overthrew the great Jade Emperor, that what would come after would be good?” He sticks his thumb to his chest. “I’m a demon pig, if you haven’t noticed, and if I tried hard I might be a slightly less demonic Pig, but I’m still going to be a demon pig THAT EATS PEOPLE.” He starts pacing. “Why does everyone want to drag me along on their stupid quest? I’m not built for this. Do you understand? You and Monkey go around cutting people’s heads off, struggling for whatever you think is going to happen after you win. Things will be different. I don’t care. The world will be better. I don’t care. Buddha will smile down on his big fat cloud in the sky. I DON’T CARE. I don’t want it. Any of it. All I see is…”
He stops. A look of horror spreads across his face.
“What?”
She glances behind her.
Green vines running along
the waxed yellow paper.
An umbrella
stuck in the ground
fully opened
shifts ever so slightly
in the breeze
The Heavenly King of the North steps from behind a smashed Escalade, arms crossed, green robes billowing as he raises his hands. His umbrella spins in the air hovering over them.
Mara and Pig scoot closer together.
“What should we do?” Pig says quietly.
“You want to help me?” He nods. “Then eat me.”
“What?”
“Eat me.”
Pig looks at the umbrella spinning above.
“It takes all the fun out of it when the person wants to be eaten.”
“Eat me!”
He opens his mouth, chomps down and swallows her in one bite then throws down his rake. The umbrella descends as The Heavenly King approaches. Pig pats his belly and grins.
“Thought I’d save us the trouble.”
“Trouble?” The Heavenly King puts his hands on his hips. “You just ate Mara’s daughter. I was sent to bring her back. Now…I don’t know what to do.” He looks at Pig then over to Ricky. “Who are you?”
“This is Ricky,” Pig says stepping between them. “He’s not important.”
The Heavenly King pushes him aside. Looks Ricky up and down.
“Are you even Buddhist?”
Ricky scratches his head.
“I did yoga with my girlfriend once.”
The Heavenly King sighs then throws his umbrella in the air. The parasol blocks the sun as the ribs light up in a star pattern, the green vines curl around the edges then spiderweb out into a complex octagonal honeycomb pattern that turns into pure light and shoots down sucking Pig and Ricky inside as it closes around, spins, then spirals into The Heavenly King’s right hand. He flips it around, sheaths it like a sword then looks around for approval. There’s a dog by the scrap pile who stops licking himself, his ears perked at attention.
The Heavenly King sighs again then in a flash is standing in The Heavenly Detention Center. He opens his umbrella and Pig and Ricky tumble into their cell. The door slams behind them. Pig lies on the cement floor catching his breath. Rolls over on his side. Gets to his feet.
“You alright?”
Ricky nods.
“That was awesome.”
“It was awesome Ricky. I remember the first time I saw…magic stuff. It seemed really awesome, but this is the third time I’ve been sucked into an umbrella that shoots geometric honeycomb light patterns, and I have to say, even that gets old after a while.”
Pig puts his hands through the bars and peers down the hall.
“So you’ve been here before?”
“Not in this exact cell, but let’s just say I’m familiar with the protocol.”
Ricky paces the cell. There’s a bed pushed into the corner, cotton cloud sheets neatly tucked in. Next to that a porcelain sink and a toilet.
“So this is heaven.” He stops in front of a mirror. Runs his hand over his face. “Not what I was expecting.”
Pig continues to lean on the bars.
“What’d you expect the jails in heaven to look like?”
“I didn’t think there were jails in heaven.”
“Pffft.” Pig laughs to himself. “Kids.”
He walks over and leans on the bars with Pig.
“What’s going to happen to us?”
“I’m not going to lie Ricky. They’re going to kill us.” Pig looks over. “But in an awesome magic way. They don’t just shoot you in the head. Here, death has to have a twist. They might, I don’t know, turn you into the bullet that kills your own mother. Everything’s a lesson. At least that’s what they want you to think.” He straightens up. “Don’t be fooled. They’re not trying to teach you anything. The real lesson is there’s no lesson and once you learn that hen….” He trails off.
“Then what?”
“Shut up. Someone’s coming.”
Jupiter waddles over carrying a clipboard, his arm in a sling, looks down the hall to make sure no one’s coming.
“What happened to your arm?”
“None of your business.” He adjusts the strap. “You know you’re in BIG trouble. I’m not going to be able to help you this time.”
Pig reaches through the bars.
“I’m not asking for the keys.”
“What then?”
“You know.”
Jupiter’s eyebrows raise.
“Really?”
“We’re going to be rotting here for god knows how long. It’s the least you can do.”
“You’ve been here five seconds and you’re already rotting.” He taps the clipboard against his leg. “All right. One hit.”
He pulls out a joint, lights in then passes it to Pig who takes a drag then steps back into the cell as Jupiter puts his arms through the bars.
“I said one hit!”
Pig takes another.
“What? A little weed never hurt anyone.”
A smile spreads across his pig lips that flattens. Turns sour. He staggers back and slams into the wall as a giant sword is shoved through his belly. The blade cuts its way up to his neck as his intestines pour onto the floor and a small blood-soaked girl rolls out, grabs Jupiter by the collar, pulls him against the bars, the whites of her eyes shining as she points the sword at his head.
“Open it.”
Jupiter fumbles the keys as the door swings open and Mara and Ricky rush out. Pig is still trying to get his intestines back in but they keep slipping out of his hands. He wrestles them into his arms then runs down the hall after them, a trial of blood pouring behind.
They duck into the first door they see, a gold lacquered plate that reads, “Heavenly Royal Palace Promenade to the Stars”. It’s dark and they sit breathing and listening and waiting to see if any sirens blare, any footsteps follow. Nothing. Mara feels along the wall then flips on the lights.
Racks of brocaded ball gowns
pinks and blues and yellows
wrapped and pressed
the plastic softly sticks
as Mara pulls them apart
the tulle and fringe and flowers
pencil and poodle skirts
green dragons embroidered
across the pink cotton
lay in piles
a thin sheet of wrapping paper
between them
tea length swing dresses
mandarin hip-hugging Cheongsams
decorated with musical notes and Marilyn
golden shimmering petticoats
peter pan blouses
with two small ripe peaches stitched on the collar
rows of cardigan sweaters
sequins, lace and heavenly rhinestones
sprinkled like powder sugar
on the shoulders and down the front
kitten heels with gold-threaded cat eyes
long black gloves hang from silver clips
glitter purses
slender gold straps
sweater clips
bullet bras
kimonos covered in silk portraits of
James Dean
Neil Armstrong on the moon
Black and white television static
with a voluptuous red inner lining
bleeds out
as Mara touches
the soft velvet
“Hey, Cinderella,” Pig holds his intestines, the blood pooling on the floor. “Remember this?” She points to a chair, pulls out her needle and thread. “How ‘bout an extra to tighten my…” She pushes the needle deeper. “Oww!” Puts the last stitch in his belly then finishes up. “That hurt.” He stands. Takes a white tux off the rack. Reaches in the pocket and pulls out an invitation printed on heavy card stock. “You are formally invited to the 52nd Royal Heavenly Peach Banquet”. He looks up. “This is tonight.”
“I know.”
Mara ducks behind a rack and slips into a gold dress.
Pig turns the card over.
“I always wanted to go to one of these stupid things.” He picks up a silver glitter Mardi Gras mask, fixes it over his pig snout then looks in the mirror. “No one could possibly recognize me.”
Ricky steps into a tux that’s three sizes too big as Mara zips herself up. She picks her sword of the table and wipes it across a rack of cardigans.
“So we’re just going to walk into the Peach Banquet carrying a bloody sword and hope for the best?”
Mara kicks the door open.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
Pig nods.
“I like a woman who knows what she wants.
The three slip out, make their way down a series of hallways, up a flight of stairs and into the dance hall.
Hundreds of servants hang
paper mache moons and glittered stars
blue streamers twist down
a red velvet curtain fifty feet high
Guitars and amps and drums
The band tunes up as
a man sweeps the floor
another smiles as they pass
sets out crescent-shaped nametags
The royal cooks carrying silver trays
set them on the table
as the disco ball is lit
and a thousand points of light
swirl across the dance floor
A soft blue halo kicks on from above as a fan blows the streamers and moons and stars. They sway high above the guests as they start to file in, decked in 50’s regalia as the band starts up and Mara and Pig start to dance, her sword pressed between them.
“It's just like heaven being here with you
You're like an angel, too good to be true
But after all, I love you, I do
Angel baby, my angel baby”
“You’re dancing awfully close,” Mara says adjusting herself.
Pig presses closer.
“If the sword falls,” he swings her around. “They are going to kill us.”
Ricky stands against the wall tapping his foot to the music as they move around the dance floor. Erlang Shen walks in with a whole group of heavenly beings, his third eye looking around, ear lobes dangling to his shoulders as he adjusts the cuffs, a silver phoenix embroidered on his shirt, dragons coiled around his socks.
“Erlang just walked in.”
Mara turns to look.
“Which one is he?”
“The one with the third eye in the middle of his head. He’s the Jade Emperor’s nephew.” He moves them behind an older couple, tries to hide as Erlang walks over to the snack bar. The Bull Demon and Princess Iron Fan enter to much applause. A crowd has gathered by the entrance taking pictures with their phones, asking for autographs. There’s a man standing by the door with a microphone that pushes it in The Bull Demon’s face.
“And what are you wearing tonight?”
The Bull Demon snorts.
“What business is it of yours? You’re lucky I don’t eat your face.”
His wife puts her arm around him then turns to the microphone and smiles.
“I’m wearing a Jenny Ji,” she says twirling in her sleek black dress highlighted with subtle gold banana leaves patterned down to her heels. She raises the fan she’s holding made of Argus feathers and bats it a few times before she puts her arm around her husband and takes him to the dance floor.
Behind them, Guanyin and Red Boy enter to even louder applause. Cameras flash as she shields her eyes, her simple flowing white robe, a green willow branch stitched up her shoulder and down her back. Red Boy follows behind in a suit of flames, a gold band around his head waving to everyone and signing autographs.
Lao Tzu is next, dressed in his QuikTrip uniform and nametag. The microphone is thrust in his face.
“What are you wearing Mr. Tzu?”
Lao looks at the mic then to the man holding it.
“I wear nothing but the pains of existence.” He brushes by him. “Get that thing out of my face.”
When you are near me, my heart skips a beat
I can hardly stand on my own two feet
Because I love you, I love you, I do
Angel baby, my angel baby
“This is the kind of psychopath he is,” Mara says trying to keep an eye on the entrance. “Every song is going to be about heaven. We’re in heaven. Everyone knows we’re in heaven. We don’t have to have songs about heaven while we’re in heaven. It’s ridiculous.”
Pig doesn’t answer. He's too busy watching more people show up. He takes another nervous glance around the room.
“So what’s the plan here?”
“What do you mean? We cut his head off.”
“And then…after? Do we,” he turns her, “help ourselves to the buffet?”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen after.”
Pig ponders this.
“You know all this time I thought I was the irresponsible one, but now that we’re here, I’ve realized there’s a certain responsibility in being lazy. If you don’t make plans, you can’t fuck anything up. I don’t have to think through sitting on the couch. Low stakes. No stakes. No plan. What comes after sitting on the couch? More sitting on the couch. I know I’m not smart enough to do something like this, so I don’t do it.”
“That’s so responsible of you.”
She turns him and leads him deeper into the dance floor.
“You, however,” he shakes his head. “I gotta say, there’s a part of me,” he pinches his fingers, “a tiny part, that respects,” he bites his lip, “not your vision. It’s your laziness at actually grappling with what we’re about to do. That I understand. That I respect.” He adjusts himself as the sword starts to slip. Pulls it up a little higher. “I feel like something’s come between us.”
Mara doesn’t respond.
“Is that a sword in your…”
“I hate you.” She presses closer giving him the look of death. “Look where we are? We’re about to do something that people will be talking about for thousands of years and what are you thinking about?”
Pig looks over at the food.
“I was hoping we could try that buffet before you decide to change history forever because I don’t know if the world you’re going to bring about is still going to have buffets.”
“You’re impossible.”
“It’s a little charming though, right?” Pig turns her as they dance toward the buffet. “If I get you close will you pick up one of those orange crackers with the weird cream on top. The one with the green sprinkles.”
“No.”
“I’m just going to dip you and you can grab one and hand it to me.” He dips her and she hangs there not moving. He swoops her back towards the dance floor.
“You are going to make me die hungry and that’s unforgivable.”
“You’ll live.”
“I won’t live. That’s the point.”
The dance to the edge of the stage.
Please, never leave me blue and alone
If you ever go, I'm sure you'll come back home
Because I love you, I love you, I do
Angel baby, my angel baby
“This is pretty romantic isn't it? You and me. Dancing in the dark. Waiting to cut off someone’s head.”
Mara smiles but immediately regrets it. Looks him in the eye.
“Just keep dancing Pig.”
The lights continue to swirl as the song ends. People at the buffet set their tiny plates down and clap as the band tunes up. The bass player lights a cigarette as the dancers start to mingle, crane their necks to see who’s arrived. Pig and Mara stay pressed together, the sword between them digging into his tux. He shifts his belly as the first chords of “My Blue Heaven” waft over and everyone starts dancing again. Mara rolls her eyes as a big smile breaks over Pig’s face. The piano chords fill the air as Fats Domino’s deep voice fades into a lone sax just trying to keep up with the drummer banging on his drum set. Pig moves her around the room, bumping into guests, his silver mask sparkling in the bits of light that fill the room as more people filter in and the Great Peach Banquet begins.