21

The Jade Emperor watches from the mezzanine, hair slicked into a pompadour, black leather jacket, white t-shirt tucked inside a pair of blue jeans. Two heavenly servants are gawking at the car parked behind him, brocaded interior, gold rims, whitewall tires painted in Chinese script. Randy snaps at them and they scurry off, looks over at The Jade Emperor then down to the empty dinner tables, a paper peach lantern on each glowing in the swirl of ballroom light. The buffet lines the back wall, platters of chicken feet surround a blue and white Ming bowl filled with Asian pear macaroni salad. A ladle dips into braised pork balls, pours it over a bed of rice as two Heavenly servants carry a jiggling green dragon jello mold, set it in the center of the splayed peaches that fan out like the wings of a giant bird.

“You’re making me nervous with that thing.” The Jade Emperor looks over as Randy pockets his watch. “Shouldn’t The Empress be here by now?” He slicks his already slicked-back hair. “You told her about the thing?”

Randy hugs his clipboard to his chest.

“I informed her of your request.”

“And?”

“She was…displeased.” The Jade Emperor lets the silence hang. “I believe,” Randy searches for the right words, “the cultural significance of Grease was lost on her.” There’s a loud crash. They peer down at a platter of Sichuan green bean casserole smashed on the mahogany floor. “I do have a few last-minute things to attend to if you wouldn’t mind…”

“What about Lao Tzu?”

“Your majesty?”

“Is he coming?” Randy nods, “And The Bull Demon?”

“A ‘maybe’.”

“Zhinü?”

“Prior engagements.”

“Should I text people or would that seem desperate? We set out a hundred places. We’re going to look like idiots if more people don’t show.”

Randy glances in the mirror at his black leather jacket, duck-tailed hair sculpted into a V.

“Fortunately, the way we look has no bearing on the attendance.” He hears bustling from the hall, walks over just in time to open the door. “The Empress your majesty.”

She enters in a yellow poodle skirt, matching cardigan over a white blouse, two diamond dragons pinned to her blonde wig.

“What the hell is this?” The Jade Emperor looks her up and down. “I wanted slutty Sandy. Black leather Sandy. She’s the best Sandy.”

She brushes by him.

“I know what you wanted, but this is what you’re getting.” She pinches her skirt feeling the scratchy wool. “My father would be turning over in his grave if he saw me like this.”

He touches her shoulder.

“You look great.”

“I feel ridiculous.”

She checks her makeup in the mirror.

“Honey, you said you wouldn’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“This!”

She snaps her compact closed.

“You know what you’re real power is?” She smoothes a wrinkle from her sweater. “Making me pity a king. And to think I fell for it again.”

The lights dim, the music dies as a hush falls over the ballroom. Randy opens the car doors, as they slip in and everyone takes their position.

The Jade Emperor turns the key as the engine roars and the lights on the dash come alive.

The Chrysler Imperial Cloud Car 
hovers on a giant lotus blossom
smoke billows from the green petals
as the car lifts
glides over the balcony
high above the crowd 
a heavenly servant clicks on the spot
follows as they sail toward the stage
the smoke falling
spreading out
as the floor disappears
and the sound of one hand
clapping the other
echos a hundred times
throughout the heavenly chambers

The seats are detached from the car and pushed to the back of the stage as The Jade Emperor and Empress wave to the crowd then make their way to sit down. The drummer waits for The Jade Emperor’s butt to hit the throne as the bass drags and the guitar blares through the silver Magnatone. The lead singer does a little dance before singing into the mic,

“I live in an apartment
on the ninety-ninth floor of my block
And I sit at home looking out the window
imagining the world has stopped”

The Jade Emperor cradles his Royal Heavenly Goblet filled with the finest nine thousand year old peach liquor and takes a sip, scans the crowd watching everyone dance.

“Looking for someone?”

His eyes rest on Lao Tzu in his QT uniform.

“The Knower of the Way didn’t even dress up.”

“He looks just as ridiculous as everyone else.”

“We do the same thing every year. I thought we could change it up a bit.”

“The eternal is unchanging. It doesn’t flaunt in fancy cars and white tuxedos listening to this decadent racket. We should be playing yayue,” She takes a sip, “though who am I to say this to the ruler of heaven.”

“What makes dragons and jade so immortal? That was a style at one point. It didn’t always exist down there.”

She turns her head to look at him for the first time.

“It didn’t exist down there? We don’t follow what they do down there. They follow us, or have you forgotten?”

Hey! You!
Get off of my cloud
Hey! You!
Get off of my cloud
Hey! You!
Get off of my cloud
Don’t hang around ‘cause
two’s a crowd on my cloud baby

The song ends as the lights dim and a spot is thrown to the floor. A man walks out dressed head to toe in black velvet. He holds a long pole with a soft plush heart dangling from the top. It lights up as he shows it to the band, The Jade Emperor, The Empress, the crowd then to the red curtain draping down. A large shadowy head pushes its way through then stops. He jiggles the heart and it’s drawn out through the slit as the spot lands on a large googley-eyed Betty Boop. She looks side to side then enters the stage as fifteen men file out holding her long sequined snake of a body.

A gong is struck and the drums kick in. Her body contorts. The men dance. Turn her into a pretzel. Her eyes move with the music as she’s hoisted in the air. Her body makes a circle below, winds around then they switch. Her head drops as her body circles above. The black-velvet-man runs across the stage and Betty’s head pops off, follows him around, chasing, as her body shakes and falls to the floor. A long sparkly trail of organs hangs from her neck, as she licks up the felt blood drops that fall from the heart now frantically dancing on the pole. The gongs are smashed and the drums pound as The Jade Emperor takes another sip of his immortal peach liquor.

The black-velvet-man stumbles, falls, as Betty descends, feasts on the pulsing heart. The stage turns red. The gel lights flood the floor, strobe, as her head cracks open and streamers shoot out into the crowd. The drums stop and out leaps a cute furry monkey. He dances around the stage, over her crumpled body, the heart, the torn-apart head. A blue river is shaken behind, turns into a waterfall held by men on ladders. Monkey jumps through the fabric into a giant gold Burger King crown. He plays in the middle, hopping from side to side, climbs the peaks before the paper crumbles and falls flat on the floor. 

A trap door opens and a 2-D Yama jumps out. Monkey lets out a shriek. The painted backdrop of hills and clouds whirl behind him as he runs. It slows to the peach orchard. A few poster-board trees are brought on as Monkey picks a ripe one from its branches, gobbles it up, the spot hits him, strobes, as the set changes to The Heavenly Royal Banquet Hall. Cudgel in hand, he smashes everything in sight, paper lanterns, paper food, jugs of wine. He tears up the throne and carpet, the tables, chairs and platters.

As he finishes a thunderous gong is heard and a giant mountain descends from above. He cowers beneath as the frame hits the floor. He peeks out of a small cutout as a man dressed like the Hamburger Helper runs on stage and slaps on a Buddhist seal. Applause breaks out across the auditorium as Tang Sanzang enters. Flowing robes, staff, riding a man in a white horse suit. He tears the seal as the mountain splits and the monkey emerges only to have a small gold band placed around his head. They exit as the music changes and the mouth of a cave is wheeled on. Pig comes out, big fat cotton belly, rubber pig nose, dressed like Oliver Hardy, small fat tie, Hitler mustache, holding a nine-pronged rake. 

A family walks and he plucks the youngest daughter away. Starts to dance. The thunderous drums are replaced by a lone pipa as they glide around. Twinkling Christmas lights pushed through black gauzy fabric shine as a low-hanging moon bobs down and sways with them. The music stops and Pig rips off her baggy peasant clothes revealing a white Marilyn Monroe wedding dress underneath. 

Monkey walks on to scattered applause as Pig whirls around, lifts his rake only to be beaten and forced to kneel. They walk in place as the scenery is changed to a desert. A giant fan is switched on as tumbleweeds are tossed. A river billows out as Sand hides behind it. Men dressed like swords rush on stage, jump around then quickly leave as Sand leaps through the fabric, his demon quelling staff in hand only to be beaten and forced to kneel.

The four of them stand center stage as the demons come from all sides. White bone, Red Boy, The single-horned rhinoceros and so on. Monkey waves them off with his gold-banded cudgel. The craggy mountain lights up as a disco ball drops sparkling the stage. The scriptures descend from high. Much applause as Buddha arrives. Tang Sanzang’s body is dumped in the river and wheeled off as a projection of him is sent up to heaven. The gates open. The Jade Emperor and Empress on either side wait with open arms. The music concludes in a crescendo as the crowd applauds. The red curtain is drawn and the band kicks up again.

The Jade Emperor stirs his drink in boredom.

“I’m going to mingle.”

He makes his way to the buffet table, fills his plate with weird pickles and crackers, meats with long skewers and barbequed chicken feet. Lao Tzu is on the other end doing the same. They exchange glances. Lao Tzu looks at the giant platter of shrimp, dips one in the cocktail sauce and pops it in his mouth.

The Jade Emperor picks a few shrimp for himself.

“So you’re still mad at me.”

“I’m Lao Tzu,” he says thumbing his QT uniform. “I don’t get mad.”

The Jade Emperor fishes around the pretzel bowl.

“Look. I’m sorry I sent you down to earth and made you get a job.”

Lao Tzu puts his plate on the table.

“And?”

The Jade Emperor looks up at the ceiling.

“And you can come back to heaven if you want. Honestly, I can’t even remember why I banished you.”

He takes a scoop of macaroni salad and slops it next to the shrimp.

“Because…” he lowers his voice, “you got a yin yang tattoo on your butt and when you decided to show it to me, I called you an idiot,” Lao leans closer, ”which you are.” The Jade Emperor stops chewing, starts to laugh. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny.”

“It’s not!”

The Jade Emperor takes an ice cream scoop of the green jello-molded dragon.

“Seen Monkey around?”

Lao Tzu narrows his eyes.

“He found me at QuikTrip. He was looking for Tang Sanzang.”

“And did you tell him?”

Lao glowers and looks at the untouched cheese plate.

“No.”

“After this take Erlang, find that Great Sage of ours, bring him back, and this time, don’t let him escape.”

He bows reluctantly as the Jade Emperor scans the crowd, see’s Elvis talking to Guanyin, gives a little wave. Someone taps his shoulder and he turns to see The Bull Demon in a James Dean jacket, gold ring in his nose, red eyes, giant curved tusks, sharp fangs munching on a plate of goldfish crackers. 

“Great party,” offers him some goldfish, “are they a thing?”

“Guanyin? She doesn’t…you know. She’s above that.” The Jade Emperor sets his plate on the buffet table. “Elvis on the other hand would sleep with this bowl of macaroni salad if you sculpted it into boobs.” He pours himself a drink from the punchbowl. “So, how’s the demon business? Eat any monks lately?”

The Bull Demon sighs.

“Not to sound like the old man that I am, but, it’s hard these days. Not many monks. Everyone flies. Not like in the old day when some traveling monks would show up at the mouth of my cave.”

“So what are you going to do? Sell insurance?”

“I thought about turning it into a museum but I couldn’t find a bank to….apparently eating people and being an all-powerful demon doesn’t mean much for your credit.” The Jade Emperor pours him a drink and hands it to him. “Thanks, and then I start thinking, is this the life I want? Tourists walking around taking pictures, gawking at my severed head collection?” He finishes it in one gulp. “Used to have an army of a hundred thousand. Covered the hills and valleys. These days…who wants to be the demon that haunts a tiny hill in the middle of nowhere? They all go to the city. Underground subways. Dilapidated apartments. How can you compete with that?” The Jade Emperor nods, slowly starts moving away. “The demons that do hang around are on their phones all day. No weapons. No fiery auras and thunderous proclamations of power. Now you make some asshole in Tokyo feel shitty about himself by posting a snarky comment, but then what? You don’t get to eat them.”

“It’s a young man’s game.”

The Bull Demon shakes his head.

“How’re things up here? Surprised The Empress would let you do this.”

“What do you mean, ‘let me?’”

“Who’re you talking to?”

“Yeah, well, she’s not happy about it.” He pokes the ice cube in his drink with his straw. It bobs down then pops back up. “I don’t know if I’m going through a midlife crisis but I just don’t care about any of this. What do we do up here? Sure, there’s heavenly splendor, but if I have to look at another auspicious cloud I’m going to puke. How long can you appreciate…” he throws his hand in the air, “all of this? I’ve been appreciating it and appreciating it and honestly, I’m worn out. I’m done. I mean, you tell me, what do I do here? What do I really do?”

“You’re The Jade Emperor. You rule heaven. Once a year people make offerings and then you judge everyone. C’mon, not the worst job in the world.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get me wrong. There was a time where I cared, but after judging, judging, judging and then watching the same thing happen year after year, you have to ask yourself…you know what I’m talking about?”

“So…what, you just make it up?”

“Randy made this algorithm that we feed the requests through but it takes forever because all the documents need to be scanned. Apparently everything’s a big picture when you scan it. He explained it to me once but I wasn’t listening. I mean, I don’t even know how it works and it’s probably doing a better job than I ever did. What does that say?”

The Bull Demon takes a bite of nacho salad, nods in approval then goes for more.

“I had to go to the dentist the other day. Me. The Bull Demon. Sitting in a chair looking at some stupid magazine they ripped out and stuck to the ceiling. Glossy picture of a waterfall. Water pouring down. Lotus blossoms in the wet grass and I’m looking at this stupid thing while a beautiful young woman, who should be terrified of me by the way, digs in my mouth. Doesn’t even care I have fangs. And it’s like, how did it get to this? I should be eating her. But I don’t even want to. So can I blame her? It’s my fault she’s not frightened, right?”

The Jade Emperor takes a drink.

“My dentist has one of those screens that’s attached to the chair with that arm-thing but nothing’s ever on except that screen saver with the color-changing logo bouncing around. I don’t know why but it’s mesmerizing.”

“Three cavities. Three! I’m not supposed to have to deal with this shit. You dismember an entire family and cook them for dinner, the last thing you think is, ‘I should brush my teeth.’”

“Look who’s coming.” Princess White Fang walks by and smiles. They both wave. “I heard she’s sleeping with Red Boy.”

“No way.” He watches her leave. “Heard you got someone new.”

“Who told you that?” The Jade Emperor looks behind him. “Not true.” Takes another drink. “Not yet at least.”

“What are you going to do with another woman?”

“I’m more interested in what she’s going to do with me.”

The Bull Demon shakes his head.

“You'll never learn.” Takes a bite of macaroni salad. “Princess Iron Fan and I are back together.”

“I saw you make an entrance. Thought it was a formality.”

“We’re giving it another shot.”

“You’re a bull demon and she’s a petite woman with a giant iron fan. How could it not work.” He pops a pretzel. “Haven’t seen Monkey have you?”

“Here?”

“Just…around.”

The Bull Demon scratches his chin. 

“I haven’t seen him since…I can’t even remember.”

“I know you guys are friends. Thought he might’ve stopped by.”

“Causing trouble again, huh?” He scratches his chin with his giant demon claw. “You want some advice? Leave that monkey alone. Nothing but trouble, but you can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I can’t stop helping myself to these chips.” The Jade Emperor pops one in his mouth. “Anyway, if things go sideways I want to know I can rely on you, or at the very least, that you’ll stay out of it.”

“I got enough problems.”

“Good,” he finishes his drink. “I’m going to see about a woman.”

He walks through the crowd making chit-chat, shaking hands as more guests stream in and the room starts to fill. Elbows and shoulders press against him as the band starts up and everyone raises their hands in the air. Someone tugs on his leather jacket and he looks down to see a furry-faced monkey. He jumps back as the mask is lifted and a hairy dwarf with horns laughs, gives him a wave before disappearing in a sea of tulle. The Jade Emperor makes it up on the stage, pushes through the curtain, mills around before seeing two guards positioned on either side of a holding cell, looks through the glass. Darlene is sitting on a bench looking through her purse.

“She got on stage and was saying curse words,” the one on the left says. “She told everyone to,” he leans in, “go fuck themselves.”

“Let me in. It’s bad enough you’ve shanghaied my date.”

The door swings open as The Jade Emperor enters. The Heavenly Guard peers in then closes it behind. They both stand there listening to the muffled conversation. The one on the right coughs. Looks over.  

“Frank.”

“What?”

He motions his head toward the door.

“What do you think they’re talking about?”

Frank takes a peek then stands back at attention.

“You trying to get us killed?”

“No…I….”

Two drunk dragons wander in and start making out by the ice machine.

“You can’t be back here.”

They ignore him. Frank shakes his head. Looks at this watch.

“You working a double?”

“I’m working till this thing’s over.”

“What’re you doing after?”

“Going home and going to bed. What’re you doing?”

“I don’t know. Thought I might…” he adjusts his uniform. “I’m thinking about,” he lowers his voice, “going downstairs.”

“You sneak down too, huh?”

They both look at the door. Wait for it to swing open.

“Few weeks ago I went down and forgot to materialize.”

“I hate it when that happens.”

“I was going to meet this woman at a hotel but I’m this spectral visage. No body. Nothing. Wispy tracers and shit. We’d been planning this for months so I wasn’t going to stand her up. I float up to our room and there’s this old man, crying and praying and he looks up at me and says, ‘Jesus?’. Didn’t miss a beat. I answer, ‘Yes, my son’. Goes on to tell me about his ex-wife, his daughter, and the whole time I’m thinking, shit, he’s going to want some advice. Some real advice. Jesus advice. And what am I going to tell him? My mind’s racing, and he’s getting worked up and then out of nowhere, he reaches up to the ceiling, falls face down on the floor and dies. Heart attack. Bam,” he smacks his hands together, “like that. That’s when it hits me.”

“Wrong room?”

“Wrong week. Felt like such an idiot.”

“Who hasn’t pretended to be Jesus? That’s the oldest trick in the book.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your great downstairs story?”

Frank checks the window again. Darlene and The Jade Emperor are sitting on a bench. He has his arm around her and looks like he’s explaining something.

“I have a girl I visit once in a while.”

“Girlfriend?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t cemented our relationship status. It’s casual. Anyway, when I go down, I really go down. You know what I mean?”

“Sure.”

“She lives in LA and I stay in her apartment, but this night I was supposed to meet her for dinner and then a movie at El Capitan, but I wanted to get a little loose beforehand so I stop at this bar. The Sandlot? I can’t remember. I’m drinking and, look, this is going to sound weird, but…I have this thing, when I drink, when I really drink,” he leans in and whispers, “I like to smoke a little crack.”

The other guard’s eyes grow wide.

“You smoke crack?”

“Only when I’m down there and only when I get drunk. Up here. Don’t touch the stuff. I know it’s supposed to be the most addictive thing on the planet but it doesn’t work that way for me. Anyway I’m drinking and I’m getting to that point where I’m looking around thinking, where can I score? I start walking the street. Bunch of tourists. Nothing. Then I see it. The door to Madame Tussaud’s wax museum propped open with a chair. People are in there cleaning. I can hear the vacuum and they’re yelling at each other in Spanish. It’s late. I’ve missed the movie. So I slip through the door and start walking around. There’s Madonna and Nick Cage and The President. Whatever. Then I go into this room and it’s dark and red and spooky and all that’s in there is, I kid you not, the severed heads of The Three Stooges.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Swear to God. I look around and, what the fuck, I decide I’m taking one. I grab Moe, because its gotta be Moe, right? I’m wearing this trench coat and I tuck the head under which makes me look like I’m pregnant but I figure that’s better than walking the streets with a severed head. By this time I’m getting hungry. I missed dinner. Totally forgot about my girlfriend.”

“I thought she wasn’t…”

“You know what I mean. I’m starving so I make my way to a grocery store. Walk the aisles holding this head under my arm cause it’s getting heavier and sweaty and the wax is starting to soften and I can’t get a good grip anymore. I go up to the register with three frozen steaks and she just waves me through like, ‘don’t even think about stopping’.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah, so then I’m lost, trying to find my way back to Shelly’s and I get there, but I don’t have keys. We’re not that close, right? I stand by the front door hoping someone will come out but I get tired of waiting and head around back to the fire escape. Climb the metal stairs. Smash the back window with my hand. Get blood all over the head, my coat, the kitchen floor. I shove the head in the fridge, throw the steaks in the oven, turn it up to 400 and pass out.”

“Did she ever find out?”

He shakes his head.

“Wasn’t the first time I stood her up. She knows me well enough to take herself out. Dinner. A movie. The whole thing. Calls one of her girlfriends. They stay out drinking till God knows when. Gets dropped off three, four in the morning. Makes her way up the stairs and the apartment is full of smoke, I mean coming-out-underneath-the-door-smoke. Like a bad sci-fi movie. She opens it, fights her way to the kitchen, turns off the oven, pulls the charred steaks out then goes to the backdoor and see’s all the blood. Follows the trail into the bedroom and finds me in my trenchcoat passed out on her fancy Egyptian sheets. She yells and screams but I’m not responding so she goes to the kitchen to clean up and that’s when she opens the fridge.”

“And?”

“Shit. I left out the most important part. When I went into that wax museum. It wasn’t The Three Stooges. Why would you have the severed heads of the three stooges in a dimly lit room? Found out later it was Stalin, Hitler, and Mussolini. The great dictators of the world. Shelly, poor girl, opens the fridge and sitting on top of last night’s Pad Thai was the bloody head of Adolph Hitler.”

The door swings open and The Jade Emperor walks out with Darlene.

“What would your parents say if they knew you were back here?” The Jade Emperor points at the drunk dragons who stop kissing, bow profusely before disappearing through the curtain. “Nothing worse than a couple of horny teenage dragons.” The Jade Emperor extends his arm to Darlene. “May I have this dance?”

She slips her arm through his as they walk down the stairs and into the crowd. The Jade Emperor gives a signal to the band. The drummer raises his sticks as the “ooooohs” and “aaaahhhs” begin as the lead singer steps to the mic and sings,

Earth Angel
Earth Angel
Will you be mine?

They dance slowly around the crowded floor, careful not to bump into anyone. Darlene looks behind her as she’s dipped and brought back up. The Jade Emperor stares in her eyes, their hands clasped together as they take small careful steps around the room.

My darling dear
Love you all the time

All the eyes fix on the couple as the spot lights them up. The Bull Demon leans against the buffet sipping his drink, his arm around his wife. Randy stands at attention backstage peeking from behind the curtain. The Empress frowns from her throne as Nezha and Erlang and Lao Tzu and all of the guests clear the floor as Darlene is twirled, her blue checked dress billowing up each time she’s spun, her pigtails dangling each time she’s dipped, her ruby slippers tapping the wood planks of the floor as the disco ball is dropped from the ceiling sending a million tiny shards of light sparkling all over heaven.

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.

13

Zhang Li stirs his tea surrounded by the morning bustle, the peacock handler heating up his ramen chatting with a drowsy royal bather texting her no-good son-in-law who’s once again called in sick on account of his ‘broken’ toe. The Empress’s makeup girls are gossiping, clicking their nails on the counter as The Heavenly Gardener enters with a "Hey fat boy,” smirking as he waits for the microwave. Li ignores him, finishes his tea, pours the Mr. Coffee into a jade cup then heads for the door.

“That time already?” The Royal Bather asks not looking up from her phone.

He gives a curt Zhang Li smile, the one he’s famous for, then pads down the carpet, coffee chest high as he enters the kitchen, squeezes through a pack of Heavenly Chefs smoking and laughing about someone named “Hong”, politely nods to the servers folding and rolling their skirts trying to hide the stains then pushes through the swinging doors to The Heavenly Banquet Hall. There’s the flower arranger, a cherry blossom in his teeth, two young servant girls rolling out fifty-foot table cloths and the ceramic statue of The Protector Of Peaches, languidly holding a ripening peach, offering it up to the man polishing it with his terry cloth towel.

Li cuts through The Heavenly Garden, past the succulents and hydrangeas overflowing in seas of pink and purple, the stone dragon snaking it’s way around a scepter, water pouring from its mouth, splashing in the seashell basin below as a group of peacocks strut, their tales folded, pecking at the cobblestone floor for seed. Down the hall musicians are tuning their instruments, others have towels over their faces, soaking up the last bit of cold as they sweat out the whiskey from the night before. He stops in front of a disheveled violinist, peels the towel from his face and hangs it on his music stand. The man shields his eyes then relaxes seeing Li’s large frame standing over him.

“Didn’t see you last night.” He wipes his face with the back of his sleeve. “Hear what happened to Lao Tzu?” Li nods. “Don’t know what’s worse, waiting on them,” he points a finger to the floor, “or…” squints at the light streaming through the stained glass. “These god damn…” shields his eyes again, “whoever decided to put east facing windows in the Heavenly Jade Hallway is…”

“Don’t say it.”

He folds his arms across his chest.

“So what was so important you couldn’t come last night?” Li searches for an answer then looks at his watch. “What’re you doing with that thing? Time is for the living or however the saying goes.”

He tilts it so the gold reflects in the light.

“It’s a heavenly watch. It keeps heavenly time.”

The violinist laughs.

“That’s a Swatch watch. You’re not fooling anyone with that thing.”

Li looks down at the gold plastic casing, the large dial with oversized numbers then raises the coffee to his chest.

“I expect this morning’s song will be as wondrous and heavenly as always?”

He snorts.

“It better be. We’ve been playing the same damn song for three thousand years.”

Li heads down the hallway, stops in front of two massive doors, nods to the guards on either side, inspects himself in the distorted reflection of the gold embossed dragon then lifts the seven-clawed-knocker and raps lightly.

“Your majesty?”

He waits.

Knocks again.

“Your majesty,” he says with more force, presses his ear and hears an unfamiliar voice.

“I ain’t sayin’ Clay ain’t bad. I’m just sayin’ I stopped liking Cassius Clay once he changed his name to Mohammed Ali. What kind of shit is that?”

He pulls back, his brow winkling as he calculates the punishment of cold coffee vs. entering uninvited then cracks the door and peeks in. The Jade Emperor is splayed out on his circular yin-yang sheeted California king, gold and red dragon boxers, a Casey's pizza beside him, eyes glued to the 88” TV. He picks up a slice and takes a bite as Li quietly shuts the door behind him, carries the coffee over and sets it on the bedside table. The Jade Emperor takes a sip as Li bends over a DVD box on the floor.

a black man
with a gold crown
a thousand feet tall 
leaning on a sea of skyscrapers
fist raised to his chest
smiling

“Another American movie,” Li says setting it on the nightstand.

The Jade Emperor gives a slight nod as the shot cuts to an elderly Jewish man.

“A man has the right to change his name to whatever he wants to change it to and if a man wants to be called Mohammed Ali…God damn it. This is a free country. You should respect his wishes and call the man Mohammed Ali.”

Li works his way around the room, picking up stray socks, coffee cups, wadded up tissues. He stops in front of one of the two curved curio-cabinets that flank the screen, wipes the glass down as he examines The Jade Emperor’s collection of Americana.

40 oz QT cups 
fuzzy dice
hot wheels
pink muscle men
gummy snakes coiled around 
bowling trophies with gold plaques 
that say “Rick Gunya - 2nd place” 
plastic lobster Christmas lights hang in front of 
an old copy of People
the red jagged rip
separating Brad and Jennifer
cuts its way down to
a Descartes action figure
head bitten off
glued back in place
slightly askew looking over to 
a rubber Predator 
holding a small misshapen spinal cord 
mask off
grinning a terrible alien grin 
staring googly-eyed 
back at Zhang Li

"Someone told me Casey's pizza was good." The Jade Emperor pauses the movie, throws the half-eaten slice back in the box, wrinkles his nose. “It's not, by the way."

Li finishes wiping down the glass.

“Would you like me to remove it your majesty?"

"I'll eat it.” He picks up another slice. “It’s fine,” looks at Li standing in front of his collection. “Zhang Li,” he says feeling the name in his mouth. "Why does everything have to be so….” He sits up. “Just once I’d like a servant named Rick or Steve or Randy."

Li puts his hands behind his back and tilts his chin at attention.

"Would you like to call me Randy, your majesty?" The Jade Emperor rolls over on his side, thinks it over then gives a nod. Randy picks the robes off the floor and throws them in the wicker hamper, makes his way to the bed. “Is your majesty ready for The Heavenly Report?”

He tosses the remote on the bed.

”Let’s get it over with.”

Randy pulls a scroll from his sleeve.

“You have a Royal Heavenly Banquet scheduled this afternoon with The Empress. She asked you not be late and that you wear something more,” he clears his throat, “official.” He waits for a response, and seeing none is coming, continues, “We’re still having that issue in the kitchen. I’ve asked The Heavenly Dragon of Thunder and Lightning to look into what it would take to get a larger electrical box installed so the breakers won’t keep getting flipped when we run The Heavenly Oven and The Heavenly Dishwasher at the same time.”

“Fix it. What else?”

Randy scans down the list.

“The Heavenly Peach Banquet is almost upon us and The Empress has reluctantly accepted some of your changes with slight modifications that I hope you will…”

“Whatever she wants. I get to keep the cars right?”

Randy looks up.

“Would your majesty like to hear her stipulations in full?”

“Your right. Skip it. I’m sure it’s fine. What else?”

He hesitates over the next line.

“The Heavenly King’s were dispatched as you requested.”

The Jade Emperor sits up.

“And?”

“They are…” he ponders the most diplomatic way to phrase it, “still in pursuit.”

The Jade Emperor takes his thumb and pushes it down on the pizza crumbs then sticks it in his mouth, looks at the slices left in the box.

"Tell me if this is crazy but…peaches on pizza?” He looks up for approval. “There’s pineapple. Why not peaches?”

Randy frowns then walks over to the window, draws the curtain just in time for the second glorious heavenly sunrise. A thousand rays of pure gold peak over a waterfall as a flock of birds swell up to make a black swirling heart that bursts into twelve heavenly rainbows that shoot out in all directions across the sky. Randy looks over to The Jade Emperor who is busy reading the back of the DVD.

“Special features? It’s just the trailer and an interview with the director.” He glances over at the majestic rainbow mandala in the sky. “Only twelve?”

“I will have a word with The Heavenly Master of Mist and Rain,” he says making his way over to the Heavenly Closet, fingering through the robes before pulling out a black one with a giant dragon on the back.

“I’m serious about this peach thing. You think I’m going to forget. Peaches on pizza. This is big.”

Randy opens his mouth then decides against it, cracks the door, whispers to the guard outside then closes it again. The Jade Emperor pulls himself out of bed and stretches in front of his three way mirror.

“What kind of day is it going to be Randy?”

“A perfect day your majesty.”

“Cut the crap. You don’t have to...” He pats his stomach. “Read the iChing while I do my stretches.”

Randy pics up an iPad, touches the iChing app, virtually throws some coins then reads,

“The Thunderstorm inseminates the swelling Lake,
then moves on where the Lake cannot follow:
The Superior person views passing trials
in the light of Eternal Truths.
Any action will prove unfortunate.
Nothing furthers.”

He sets the iPad down as The Jade Emperor leans into a lunge.

“I thought these were supposed to be eternal truths? Now I’m just thinking about a thunderstorm having sex with a lake.” He leans into the other leg. “I don’t like the sound of it Randy,” stands and reaches his hands toward the ceiling. “Passing trials?” Bends over and touches his toes. “I did watchJudge Judy last night.”

“I believe it’s more of…a metaphor.”

He stands and cracks his neck.

“Forget it. Bring me my robe.”

Randy drapes it over him, brushes out the wrinkles, slips on the Heavenly Just-So-Slippers then stands at attention.

“There is one last thing,” he says making sure to look him in the eyes.

The Jade Emperor scrutinizes his face looking for signs of worry.

“I got someone pregnant again.”

"Not that your majesty. I have a report back from,” he looks back toward the door, “the place that shall not be named."

"Oh," the Jade Emperor crosses his arms. "You sent someone to...the other heaven?" His voice tightens. "What was it like? Was it nicer than here?" Randy holds out a roll of parchment which he ignores. "So he sacrificed himself for humanity. We’ve all made sacrifices.”

Randy clears his throat.

“We certainly have.”

The Jade Emperor gives him a look then decides to ignore it.

“I hear they’ve got good coffee. Is that true?”

“I’m sure it would be in the report.”

He starts pacing.

"How many people know about this?”’

”A handful.”

“We’ll I don’t know what to do.” The Jade Emperor stops in front of the window, looks out to his Heavenly Court.

“You want my advice?” Randy says stripping the bed and pillow cases. “Don’t do anything.” He tosses them in the wicker hamper. “As they say, ‘The superior person views passing trials in the light of eternal truths.’”

“Yes, they do say that. But they have been wrong before.” He takes his place in front of the door, stares off deep in thought. “How does a storm have sex with a lake?”

Randy places the crown on his head.

“However it wants your majesty.”

The doors swing open, the trumpets blare and the violins swell as The Jade Emperor strides down the carpet, the colored light from the stained glass dances along with the music as Randy follows behind with his coffee. The peacocks, startled by the song, flap their wings and let out a horrible screeching sound, eventually settling as they enter The Heavenly Garden. One stops in front of The Jade Emperor, cranes its neck and peers up at him. He scoots it out of the way with his foot then sits in his chair on the veranda as the music dies and his coffee is set on the table.

Randy see’s two heavenly hosts approach, heads them off, takes a large folder they’re carrying, whispers something then sends them away as he resumes his post.

“What was that?”

Randy looks over.

"It was nothing.”

”I know nothing when I see it.” He takes a sip. “That wasn’t nothing.”

”Your majesty.” Randy gives a slight bow. “Remember when you got mad at the Ho family because the youngest stepped on your robe when your were coming out of that restaurant, the one you like so much, with the gold umbrellas?”

“And?”

“Well, you told us to give his wife cancer, which we did, but now he's made an offering of $5,000 so I didn't know what you wanted to do."

The Jade Emperor mulls it over.

"Do you have it here?"

"We put it in the royal treasury."

"Of course.” A plate of steak and eggs is served which he pokes at with his fork. “Has he…been good?”

”I have his file,” Randy says holding out the thick folder.

He cuts the steak and takes a bite as Randy withdraws the folder.

”I’m sure he’s doing his best,” rubs his temples with his thumb and forefinger. “Damn it, you know how I feel about making these decisions before breakfast.” He takes another sip. “Cure her cancer, but…make her worry about it for another year or two.” He stands pushing his chair out. ”This is supposed to be my chamber of solitude Randy! How am I supposed to…” A peacock stops and stares. “And these birds. Look at them. Their beady little eyes. They freak me out.” It cocks its head then pecks at the ground. “And how come they never fan their tales out for me?”

Randy looks down at the bird, its magnificent plumage hidden under a coat of shimmering green.

“I believe it’s a mating gesture, your majesty.”

”Well, talk to them, will you? They should fan it out a little more. Not just, you know, when they want some.” He walks out, coffee in hand, past The Heavenly Porch Furniture and down the stairs to The Jade Pool, drops his robe as Randy catches up with him just in time to slather his back with lotion. He dives in, takes a lap then lounges on his vinyl curly-pool-dragon as Randy takes his spot on his deck chair, puts his visor on, and unfolds The Heavenly Dispatch.

"Randy?” He lowers the paper and raises his chin at attention. “I've thought it over and I want to try something new today.” The Jade Emperor paddles closer with both hands. “Instead of the whole ‘majesty’ thing. What if everyone calls me...Mr. Heaven?”

Randy folds the paper in his lap.

"Mr. Heaven, your majesty?”

“Mr. Heaven sounds more…I don’t know. Couldn’t you see a manga titled ‘Mr. Heaven’?” He puts his jade sunglasses on and leans back against the hot vinyl. “Why aren’t there more mangas about me Randy? I’m the ruler of the heaven. Instead it’s The Monkey King this and The Monkey King that. Why him Randy?”

“I believe it’s his…rambunctiousness.”

“Everybody loves the rebel. Nobody loves The Man.” He pulls his sunglasses down. “God damn it, Randy, when did I become The Man?”

“You are the ruler of heaven.”

He paddles over for his coffee, takes small sips as he soaks up the sun.

“Anyway, if you could let people know I want to be called that but don’t let them know I know. Just say that’s my name now. I don’t want to look…” He searches for the right words. “You know what I mean. Make it casual.”

“I will talk to the Heavenly Royal Announcer,” Randy says unfolding his paper and reading the top headline,

ANOTHER PERFECT DAY? YES.

He skims though the articles then turns to the back and starts on the crossword, fills in some clues then taps his pencil on the deck chair. The Jade Emperor peeks over.

“Give it to me Randy?”

“Eight letter word for a semi-autonomous region in Tanzania?”

“Zanzibar.”

“Correct as always,” he says counting out the letters and filling it in.

“How the hell do I know that Randy?”

He looks over the top of his paper.

“Because, you’re Mr. Heaven.”

The Jade Emperor smiles as he leans back.

“That’s right. I am.”

An hour and three cups of coffee later Randy is pulling on The Jade Emperor’s last gold boot, polishes it with his shirt then stands as they take their position in front of two massive red curtains.

“I almost forgot to tell you. Your gift has arrived for The Empress. I put it in the requested spot but I would once again advise that…”

“It’s here!” The Jade Emperor draws the curtain back and enters,

One thousand foot arched ceilings
with beams of light shining like columns
The hall is packed with heavenly guests
all seated and waiting impatiently
as the heat from the beams
makes it quite hot
and the air conditioning
falls through the heavenly cloud floor
which does not make for good insulation
The heavenly guests look up as the violins swell
and the trumpets blare
as Jade Emperor walks over to his throne 
carved with all the animals of the zodiac
and sitting in front of the
nine shining stars reflecting of all creation
is a grey ottoman
he ordered from Target

“Now entering the Throne Room…” Everyone stands as the announcer clears his throat, reads the paper twice making sure he got it right. “Now entering the throne room, with his new name, Mr. Heaven.”

The Jade Emperor cover his face.

“This is so humiliating,” uncovers it. “I’m already here. I’m sitting right here! Do you want me to come in again?” He looks out into the audience. “Forget it. Just sit down.”

The audience is seated as the announcer’s voice again booms across the room.

“Everyone stand for Dǒumǔ, Mother of the Great Chariot, Mazu, Queen of Heaven, Golden Mother of Tortoise Mountain, Xiwangmu, Goddess of Life and Death, Mysterious Lady of the Nine Heavens, Mother and Wife to the Jade...I mean...Mr. Heaven. The Empress!"

Raucous applause breaks out as she floats in on a lotus blossom, eight arms holding eight different objects, long black hair pulled up in a bun. She steps off the blossom and sits on her throne as the cheers continue, demurely smiles and lowers her hands, as the heavenly guests take their seats as the room grows quiet. She looks down at the grey cushiony ottoman then over to her husband.

"Darling,” he gives a big smile. “It's a present. For you. I thought you might want something more…exotic. You know, something that wasn't red and gold and had dragons all over it."

Her eyes narrow as The Jade Emperor walks over.

"Look, it's got this storage compartment so you can put, I don't know, little statues in it,” he opens and closes it, "and it's made out of Polyester so it's easy to clean and it has what they call an ‘espresso wood finish’. And what else does it say?" He pulls out his phone and scrolls through the description. "The ottoman combines a classic design with modern flair. The polyester cover gives a timeless touch,'" he looks over for her approval, "that adds a functional yet stylish accent to any living space,” his hand motions across the throne room. "and look, on their website they have this image and if you click on it, you can move it around and see it from all the different angles. Oh, and you can take a picture and send it to them and then you can see what it looks like!"

She looks at the picture then back to him.

"Are you telling me,” she folds all eight hands in her lap, “that you took a picture of the Royal Heavenly Throne Room and sent it to," she glances down at his phone, "Target?

"Baby,” a small sweat breaks out over his body, “when you say it like that it sounds...bad."

A Heavenly Server holding a plate of peaches pushes his way through the crowd, looking at the paper ticket he was given and not much else. Randy rushes over to try and stop him but it’s too late.

"Zhang Li,” the Empress says noticing the commotion, “are those my Immortal Heavenly Peaches that I serve at the Heavenly Peach Banquet every 6,000 years? Bring them here." He bows before her and offers up the plate as she picks up a slice. "What are you doing with these?"

"They are for,” he looks over nervously. “his majesty’s pizza."

She places the peach back on the plate as if it were diseased.

"And was this pizza prepared by The Royal Heavenly Cooks in our Heavenly Kitchen?"

Randy bows further.

"It was not your highness."

"And where may I ask did the Jade Emperor procure this pizza?" Randy looks over to The Jade Emperor. "Don't look at him Zhang Li. Tell me where you got it."

Randy lowers his head further and says quietly, "A gas station. Called Casey's. In Nevada," and then with a little more emphasis, "I've heard it's quite good."

The Empress arches her back as she stares a hole through the back of his head.

"So the Jade Emperor was going to put my Heavenly Immortal Peaches, the one’s that grant us immortality, on a pizza that you got him from a gas station in the state known as Nevada? Do I have this correct?"

Randy is now visibly sweating and bows even further so his face is touching the ground.

"Not quite your majesty. Nevada is also a town…in Missouri."

"Oh, even better,” a smile curves across her face. "I'm glad the Jade Emperor decided not to get one of those fancy Las Vegas pizzas and instead went to," she says this part slowly, "Nevada, Missouri,” see’s Randy trembling. “Don’t worry Zhang Li. You may rise.” He bows profusely then stands. “I do have one other question for you. My ears must not be working properly because I swore that when my husband was introduced, they called him…”

Randy cringes. “Mr. Heaven, your highness.”

"That was it" she looks over for the first time to her husband, who, with each passing moment is shrinking further into his throne. “Has anyone else had a name change I should know about today?”

Randy looks down at his feet.

"I am now to be called…Randy.”

The Empress raises an eyebrow.

"I would like you to do something for me Zhang Li," she says, her tone getting softer but somehow more threatening. "First I would like to you to take my Heavenly Immortal Peaches and feed them to my thousand-eyed-tiger then I would like you to come back and take this," she says pointing to the Target Ottoman, "and burn it in Lao Tzu's furnace until there is absolutely nothing left of it. Then I would like you to tell my husband, The Jade Emperor, that his presence is required for dinner tonight." She takes Zhang Li’s hand in hers and looks calmly into his eyes. "Do you understand everything I've said?"

"Yes, your highness!" Zhang Li says picking up the plate and rushing out of the room.

The Empress and her husband sit in silence overlooking the throne room, their subjects staring back. Someone coughs and a few people turn to look. The Jade Emperor clears his throat, taps his fingers on the arms of his throne then manages a glance over to his wife.

"So...you didn't like the ottoman?"

Her glare sears through the side of his face.

"There are more important things to deal with than this," she says pointing to the grey polyester. "Mara is here and he wants to know what you've done with his daughter."

The Jade Emperor gulps as the doors of the throne room are thrown open and the halls burst into flame as a great black shadow of a horned demon enters, his crown of skulls and blue skin set ablaze, a long green snake curled around his neck as he walks with thunderous footsteps, his pig nose sniffing the strange mix of sulfur and incense, the tiger skin wrapped around his waist billows with each stride, as his third eye frantically searches the room and fixes its gaze upon him.