Travel Bug (3 page)

“Yes.”

“
Do you really understand why your god is not acceptable?
”

“I would like to think that I do but I do not.”

“
You see this is why Ari would never work in your world with your species. He is too good and too logical for humans to believe in him. They need eternal damnation and eternal hypocrisy. Humanity needs its precious bloodshed and self righteousness. Men need to believe they are innately bad so that they can be eternally good. The fear of death has made them impotent with panic. So blind are men that they believe in a loving god who would torture them forever in a lake of fire! Men are not ready for your god but I am impressed by your wondrous imagination!
”

“Thank you, my master.”

“
Most welcome, now please wait while I decide your fate.
”

This loving being, Enoch concluded, did not wish to harm him in any kind of way. He simply wanted to decide what his fate, not meaning punishment or death would be. If there was a god, perhaps he was nothing more than a higher form of life than man. Enoch had found that god now in Xenu! There was no doubt about it whatsoever. He would accept his decision because this wondrous ship was as close to utopian heaven as any human would ever see with his own eyes.

“
The decision has been made.
”

“Oh?”

“
Look with your own human eyes, my child.
”

“Yes, I will…”

“
Is it now wondrous and full of splendor?
”

“Indeed, lord. It truly is.” The beauty of what he saw was so powerful and magnificent that he could not find the words for it in his tiny brain. The human brain like human language was quite limited.

“
Congratulations, my human friend.
”

“Thank you, lord.”

“
You needn’t worry for the future now. You will fit in with us here in the lovely heavens of space.
”

“Yes.”

Enoch could read minds now. So Ari was in the hall of fame, so to speak of failed gods. He was a noble god that showed potential evolutionary growth among a primitive, fearful species. Xenu introduced him to council a robot who seemed very friendly for a non-human.

“
He is your servant now, human.
”

“Thank you, lord.”

“
Tonight we will dine on human food to celebrate an advance in your species. Congratulations.
”

“What will happen to me after the feast?”

“
I’m sure you are a perceptive man. You might have noticed that there are beautiful, lovely rivers of water in my gardens.
”

“I certainly have.”

“
Swim in them, bathe in them, Enoch, until the end of time. You know the story of the fountain of youth is true. It’s here and now like my gardens, it belongs to you.
”

“Thank you, my master.” Tonight we feast, Enoch thought, because like Zeus before him, Ari will be remembered as great among the gods of history. We celebrate humanity now because there is one less god to believe in!

OLD SCRATCH

I hope that whoever finds this journal will take good care of it because it cost me my soul to write it. The magic that I did was not among the best of my profession but I used the best tactics of my profession. You see years ago, when I was 12 years old, I made a bargain with the devil. I found him behind my house in the woods. I surrendered my life and soul to him and in exchange I became a master of the dark arts. I would be a magician and the audience would be under my spell.

“My family is hungry.”

“I will feed them for a price.”

“I know what the price is.”

“You are willing to give your soul up for that, my boy you can do much better.”

My father screamed in the woods for me to come home to do my chores. He yelled, “Timothy Crane” over and over. I went running back to him. Father had his typical stern look. His use of the cane no longer caused me much pain since he was so exhausted from hunger, he could barely strike a good blow. That bastard of a pastor took all my family’s money and all from our village. Rev. Thorn was a strict Calvinist who believed that the more money given to the lord’s work, the better the chances of being one of the elect. I hated him. Soon after my first encounter with Satan, my father died of a heart attack. Rev. Thorn said that he really needed more money from us. My father’s death was no excuse and we could end up in hell. I hated him so much. One day I couldn’t stand it and at the age of fifteen, I confronted him.

“Leave my family alone, we’re very poor and can’t pay you.”

“You will pay now or pay forever burning for all eternity.”

“Rev. Thorn, you are not God and you don’t know the fate of souls.”

“Boy, I will ban you from this church and that means banning you from our community.”

“This is a small Appalachian village filled with many poor folks. You’re taking advantage of their superstitions and fear is nothing less than criminal, sir.”

“I see.”

“I want you to release us from the church.”

“No.”

“Then take heed.”

“Your prayers don’t go above this roof, boy.”

“They do. Tonight I will say a special prayer for you.”

“Leave my church, Timothy.”

I did pray and I prayed hard. I figured that God wasn’t doing a good job providing for my family so I would pray to his opposite. I went to an abandoned shack deep in the woods. I thought that I heard a scratch on the door. Perhaps the devil or one of his minions had come to me to claim my soul in exchange for granting my wish. I listened again for the scratching but didn’t hear anything. I smiled a devilish grimace that would have made a wicked man faint. I would not know if the devil could be counted on to grant such request until the next day.

“Rev Thorn is dead,” said my mother.

“Oh?” I inquired.

“Yes. The man died in his sleep of a heart attack.”

“Oh, how terrible,” I answered.

“It gets worse, son. His entire church caught on flames. He must have knocked his lantern down. Our pastor was down on the floor burning do death. It was awful.”

“Just terrible,” I said. It was very hard to keep from laughing.

“I need to rest, son.”

Mother died within a year during the terrible storm we had that winter. I had no brothers or sisters. The absence of tithes made our bellies full that last year of my life. My farm was booming and I made a lot of money. I made enough to begin to follow my dreams. When I was a child there was a magician named Burt West. He came to our little town and did a magic show. His card tricks, levitation tricks and of course sawing the lady in half were the best I’ve seen even now. The people in town started to tip him and Rev. Thorn was furious. He drove him out of town and claimed that the devil himself, old scratch was behind his amazing powers to do magic. The magician left in disgrace. I protested and told my father that he was a good man who brought joy to our sad village. He gave me the beating of a lifetime for questioning Rev. Thorn.

“What kind of magic can you do?” asked the manager of the Alderson Stage.

“I can do any magic you want,” I answered him.

“Tomorrow night, you can audition,” he said.

I sold the farm and went to follow my dreams in Alexandria because I wanted to be like Buck West. I was twenty years told. I traveled outside of town until I was in the woods all over again. Then like before I found an abandoned shack to say my wicked prayers once more.

“If you are there, I pledge my soul, I really mean it this time to you, dark lord. I want to be the greatest magician of all time and I know no tricks at all! You must help me. You delivered me from evil, from Thorn who laid my village to waste with his greed. He made us starve and cost us our crops. I invoke thee to grant my request.”

I waited patiently.

“Scratch, scratch, are you there?”

I thought I heard something.

“Scratch, scratch, are you there, my dark lord?”

I opened up the door in anticipation of eternal damnation but there was nothing at all. Then I had a revelation. All those stories of the devil taking your soul in exchange for fame were nonsense. He didn’t have time to take souls for such petty reasons. I was on my own and had to learn a few tricks for tomorrow.

The stage was set. I had to compete with performers that were the likes of which I had never seen. Others did magic and had additional talents as well. Some did magic, others sang, danced and juggled. The other magicians were better than me that was for sure. I had one thing they didn’t have and that was the ability to lie. I told the test audience that I was a real sorcerer and had great powers. They, of course, asked what the source of my power was and I was obliged to answer them.

“Satan,” I said with devilish pride.

“What?” they asked.

“The devil is my source.”

“Oh my,” someone gasped.

“Do you think that I have no powers? I can read minds my friends and if you turn me down, don’t allow my presence on this stage, you will come to be most sorrowful. You see, my friends, I cannot control old scratch, he has my soul and he is full of rage. I need your guarantees that you will make me the headliner. If you don’t then I simply cannot guarantee your safety. When you witness my dark miracles, you will never be the same again.”

“Show us your powers,” said one of the judges.

“I shall.”

“We can’t wait,” said the excited audience.

There were only a few friends and family of the theatre manager in this small theatre. The stage was just large enough for about four or five performers to go on at once. This was not some grand show but I had to make the people think that it was. I looked at the people who were waiting with baited breath.

“Now I will read your minds.”

The audience grew into a grave like silence.

“You,” I pointed to a young woman in the front. “You are afraid that I will damn you by making you watch my magic.”

“Yes,” she answered me.

“I will make the sands of time disappear while I stare deep into the eyes of you fearful mortals,” I said.

“God help us,” said the manager.

“God has no place here while I look deep into your souls.”

“Oh, my,” someone shouted.

“You,” I said to a man in the front row. “You never tell your wife that you lust, constantly lust after other women. I can see how you look at them because I talk to the devil. In exchange for my soul, he has given me the second sight of hellish wisdom. You see, I see through you.”

“It’s true,” he answered shamefully.

His wife slapped his face and I laughed my head off.

“You,” I said to a woman who was hiding her face. “You, I know all about you. You are afraid, madam of growing old and dying. Trust me, the devil is waiting and laughing. You are middle aged, half way to giving up your soul to the dark lord I serve and who gives me these amazing powers.”

“Oh God,” she said and then fainted.

The audience was mesmerized. The poor fools never even had a fighting chance. All I had to do was prey on their fears. This was so easy. Of course, I felt a bit guilty but wasn’t this essentially what Rev. Thorn did? Rev. Thorn was the basis for my childhood’s shortness, my parent’s death and the starvation of our village of idiots. I looked to him now. He played on stupid beliefs and so did I. Unless, I thought, of course that the devil really was at work here. I mean he did kill Thorn at the request of my prayer.

“You,” I said to the theatre manager.

“Yes?”

“I think the devil and I know you. You, sir are afraid that people will not come to your theatre and you will be broke. Sir, you have no wish to be a disgrace nor to have second rate performers come on this stage. The evil one and I know what you think and what you fear. Confess your weakness, sir.”

“I confess, I am weak and afraid. Please help me,” he said.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

“I don’t want to offer my soul, sir. I have a wife and three children.”

“You needn’t worry, sir. It’s fine. The devil and I have an agreement and it’s just between us. You can reap the benefits of my dark magic and still be safe in the arms of Jesus when you leave this world.”

“Excellent.”

“The fires of hell will burn me forever but they shall not touch you and yours, my fine gentleman. I am at your service, always.”

“Thank you.”

I did five shows a day and the money I was paid by the manager pleased me. Surely he had to give his pastor something extra for dealing with devil. The shows were all sold out and the audience was quite amazed.

“After we see the burlesque dancers, the devil’s disciple will be appearing to perform his satanic magic this evening,” the manager would announce. The audience would gasp. “I believe that we have one of the greatest acts in the history of theatre. I must confess that he is a wicked man.”

I brought strippers and comedians who told immodest jokes oh yes, the devil came to the little theatre and he brought in a small fortune. The fools thought I had a kind of telepathy but that was nonsense. I was just another bad psychic.

“Thanks for holding back the powers of hell,” said a repeat customer.

“Oh, you bet,” I replied.

I was damn near thirty years old now. If you never experienced the sounds of a pleased audience then I must say, you have not lived a full life. There is nothing in this world like the rapturous sounds of their applause. Nothing even comes close, to be honest. That’s where I was. The thunderous applause of hundreds of people, standing room only in this little theatre every night and it was wondrous. Then I prayed to the devil again. I asked him to make me the greatest magician in history and he did not respond. He was silent, the son of a bitch! I had to move on and soon!

“If I don’t leave this theatre then there will be a great curse on you and your family,” I told the manager.

“God be praised, I will.”

“Thank you.”

“My family will pray for you even though we know deep down inside that it’s in vain.”

“Much appreciated,” I answered him.

“I mean you worship the devil. We may as well pray for Jews or Catholics!”