Madison Glass

"Lick me," I say. "Lick me Madison."

I look around.

"That's hot," I say. "Lick me again."

We're sitting next to the beverage-refrigerator at Safeway. The next aisle over, an old man's panting. I can't see him but he's panting hoarsely and with phlegm in his throat which makes the sound hollow and watery.

"Oh, lick me," I say.

"Stop it," Madison says. "You'll never be forgiven and when the Rapture comes, Jesus'll tie you in a movie-theater, smack you for a while and leave."

"What movie?"

"Something about sinning and punishment, with thorny branches and a fuck-load of blood."

I try to imagine a fuck-load of blood.

"I'm bored," Madison says. "I'm really bored."

"Let's do something."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Okay." Madison stands.

Outside, the parking-lot's empty and wide. The sky's dark and distant and muted by tall street-lights. There's a man. The man's very tall and very wide. The man's face is a thin contorted shadow but his hair's long and wavy and moves slightly in the wind.

"Hey," the man says.

"Hey."

"Got a cigarette?"

"Don't smoke," I say.

"Deadly habit," Madison says.

"You should probably stop," I say. "Before the Rapture."

"The Rapture?" The man removes a flask from his overcoat, drinks long, then offers it to us.

Madison snatches it. "What's this? Whisky?" Madison sips carefully.

The man studies Madison. "I'm Jesus," he says. "Some people say things like, 'I'm like Jesus' or whatever but I really am. I'm Jesus."

"Must be pretty difficult." I'm laughing.

"People don't understand the strain."

"Oh," Madison says.

"I've been Jesus for like three-thousand years, every day, without sleeping or anything, not even my state-mandated breaks and lunch-periods and no one to redress my grievances or whatever. Can't take the organization to court and sue for back-pay. I'm tired." The man sits on a small concrete island. "I'm really fucking tired. I have these waking dreams where I'm sleeping and then realize I'm not sleeping and there's this little penguin slapping my face, and the penguin says, 'coconut' or something."

"Penguin?" Madison says.

"I like penguins," I say. "Penguins are very gentle and intelligent."

"No," the man says. "Penguins are angry violent things with razor-fins and big evil teeth."

"Penguins don't have teeth." Madison's glaring.

"Oh," the man says.

"You're not Jesus," Madison says. "You're fucking liar like all the other fucking liars who fucking lie all the fucking time."

"We should stab you," I say.

"We should double stab you."

"Hey…" the man says. He holds his hands up.

This is when the penguins appear, with razor-fins and big evil teeth.

"Jesus," the penguins say in unison. "Jesus. Jesus. Jesus."

A penguin steps forward. The penguin's holding a knife. "Jesus," the penguin says. The penguin jumps and pirouettes while holding the knife perpendicular from it's body with it's razor fin.

Jesus' head flips backward and hangs from a thin string of flesh. I can see Jesus' spinal cord and esophagus and other things. Then the penguins are on him. Feeding.

"I'm bored," Madison says.

"Me too," I say. "Let's go somewhere else."

We go somewhere else.